Cold As December

It was one thirty four in the morning. Everyone was asleep. At least, I hoped so. My hands shook with fear that my dad would hear me. I opened the back door quietly, because it was farther away from my dad’s room.

I winced as it quietly creaked open. I removed my heels and carried them, so I could tiptoe quietly through the house. I felt my way around the kitchen, not daring to turn on any lights, and found my way to the stairs in our pitch-black house. Walking along the side of each stair, I remembered my night. The dancing, the music, the spirit… It was such a great time.  I made it to the end of the staircase and tiptoed to the left and across the hallway to my room, careful not to wake up Autumn, my sister. As soon as I was into my room, I shut the door behind me and turned on the lights.  I collapsed onto my bed and closed my eyes, thinking about it again. I had run through it so many times after it had happened. I sighed happily, completely at ease with letting my eyes rest at this moment. I felt… peaceful. Something that almost never happened when I was at home. It felt like a dream come true.

“December Ann Elserdi.”

Make that a nightmare.

I sat up in bed, my eyes snapping open as I turned to look at the last person I wanted to see right now.

“Daddy! I-“

“Not a word, December. I don’t want any excuses. Get ready for bed now. We will discuss your consequences in the morning.”

“B-but, Daddy, I-I-“ He held up his hand will all five fingers, as if to say stop.

I knew better than to push him further. I sighed, and stood up. Well, I said to myself, you should’ve seen it coming, Des. I turned to the now empty doorframe where my father had been standing.

 Why me? I had such a screwed up life. My mom was dead, and now my jerk of a father had to take care of me. I know I had no right to call him a jerk, even in my head. He was, after all, a single father caring for four kids on his own. Being the youngest had no perks. There was none of the, “Oh, little Jonny gets everything he wants!” (Or, I guess, ‘Little Des.’) There was, though, “Des, why can’t you be like June? Or David? Or Walter?”

  As soon as I quit having a pity party for myself, I went into my bathroom to get ready for bed. June and I shared a bathroom with adjoining doors to connect to it, so it was always a mess. I flipped on the switch and looked at myself. My dark brown, almost black hair was still curled and wreaked of hairspray. My face was caked in makeup, and my enormous hoop earrings were weighing down my ears. Why can’t you be pretty like June?

        I grabbed my hairbrush and worked at the stiff mess of my hair. After brushing it, I braided it behind my back. Even in a braid, my hair reached below my waist.

  I grabbed a washcloth and wiped all the make up off my face. After my bathroom routine, I noticed my balcony door was open. Whoops, I thought. No wonder he noticed me gone.

     I climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. What a night. What an amazing night. I smiled to myself, even though I knew I was toast tomorrow. But whatever, it wasn’t tomorrow yet, was it?

    The next day came too soon. My alarm clock was blaring into my ear, and my father was standing above me.

     “Get up.” He commanded. I groaned, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. I looked out my window and saw that it wasn’t even bright outside yet. I rolled over and slammed my face into my pillow. “What time is it, anyway?” I asked annoyed.    

     “4:30 sharp. I told you there would be consequences.” He answered angrily.