Warmth

A draft blew through the room and made the little girl shudder. Her black and blue limbs were huddled together tight as possible in an effort to keep some degree of heat. In front of her, on the dim little TV was an old man, talking about the birth of Christ. She sniffled. Her blue and ivory feet were shaking.

From the stairs a small sickly stick of a man descended. 60 at least, grease and sweat trickled from his receding hairline and a cigarette hung lit between his jagged teeth.

"Go to fucking bed," the man said bitterly. "Tomorrow you get to shovel snow."

The little girl slid off the rotten old couch in her oversized, thin linen shirt, teeth chattering. She wasn't allowed to go to bed until she was told. It was the only place she was warm. She turned the TV off. Her blue and ivory feet climbed up the staircase, hurting with each step. The cold was unbearable, but soon it'd be warm. Soon she'd be under the blanket. Soon--

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY BLANKET?!" a voice screamed. Thudding feet ran up the stairs purposefully, dragging with it the oversized body of a woman in her 50's, clinging onto youth. "YOU BITCH, YOU TOOK IT DIDN’T YOU? FUCKING LITTLE SHIT, AFTER 14 FUCKING YEARS OF PROVIDING FOR YOU..." her words were lost as she shoved the girl to the floor and slammed the girls bedroom door open. "Where the FUCK is it? Are you hiding it? YOU’RE HIDING IT! WHERE?"

The screams maimed the girls’ ears, but not nearly as bad as the blows the woman delivered with her feet. The girl didn't even bother trying to curl up in a ball; she just took it all. The bruises already there darkened. They were never yellow anymore. It hurt.

The kicks stopped, but the words kept going, though the girl couldn't hear them anymore. The woman's body disappeared back downstairs. The girl crawled the rest of the way into her room.

It was bare inside, with nothing but a window, a thin mattress, and a thinner blanket. There was nothing on the blank walls, no dresser, no closet. Just peace.

She covered her broken body with the blanket and laid down on the mattress. She curled up so the blanket could cover her entire body.

Warmth.

From beneath the mattress she produced a tiny Dora the Explorer watch she'd found abandoned in the street. The time was 8:37pm. She laid it down on the side of the mattress and closed her eyelids. But sleep seemed to neglect her too.

She shivered from beneath the blanket and sat up.

From outside a lone firework went off. Red and green illuminated through the barred window. When the noise ceased, all that was reflected was the white upon the rooftops and ground outside. She smiled. She put the watch on her wrist and read it: 12:01am. She stood up. She walked to the door. It was locked.

She kept smiling. Instead she went back to the mattress. From beneath she brought out a hair clip. She clicked the lock open. It wasn't hard. She smiled.

She crept out silently. It was black in the hallway. She embraced the darkness as a cape, the same darkness that had shielded her from the benevolence of her tormentors for 14 years, and beyond that. She went downstairs, skipping over the creaky steps. The front door stood in front of her now. She smiled. From there she could hear the abominations growling at each other, shaking the bed roughly. She turned right and headed into the kitchen. The light was switched on. She went to the leftmost drawer. She stood before it a long time. She smiled. 12:38am.

She opened it. In her hand she grasped a black grip. It was warm. She smiled. She took another. And another. The glint of the metal gleamed onto the ceiling above her. She looked up and smiled. She ran a finger along the razored side. Blood appeared almost instantly. She didn't bother to close the drawer back.

There was a sickly calendar with the Dallas cheerleaders on the small brown refrigerator, turned to December. The days past were x-ed out. She looked around for something to write with. She didn't find anything. She turned the light off and went back to the front door. Her eyes burned red. She smiled. The creaks from the monsters' bedroom had stopped now.

She glided down the corridor that led to the room. They didn't bother to lock it tonight. She stood there for a long time, adrenaline pouring through her veins.

12:58am.

She smiled. Their breaths were slow and deep. Sleep wasn't so negligible after all. She swung the door open without a sound and walked to the edge of their bed.

She stood for a long time, wrapped in warm black hate.

Then with a quick motion, she sunk one of the blades into the man's throat with ease. It went in silently. The man was not. His yellow eyes bulged out of socket and he gurgled blood in his tobacco stained mouth. She smiled. The woman's eyes shot open and she screamed at the silhouette killing her mate. Her efforts to scramble out of bed resulted in falling off the side, tangling herself in the same blanket she'd beat the girl for.

The little girl crawled over the dying creature and pounced on top of the struggling woman. The girl took out another sharp blade and pierced it through her hand. She woman's screams didn't maim her ears this time. They warmed them. She smiled.

The woman tried to swipe the girl off with her taloned fingers. The girl let the nails dig into her face, smiling as blood was drawn. The girl grabbed the woman's fat filthy fingers and put them in her mouth. She bit down. Hard.

The girl took the woman's screaming head and smashed it into the grip, driving it into the polished wooden floors. Screams. Red crawled out of the woman's hand. She spit 3 of the woman's fingers tips out. 1:16am. She smiled.

The girl stood up and began to kick the woman. Over and over. And over. Her tiny legs were swallowed by the woman's body mass, but it didn't prevent the woman from feeling pain. The woman's screams got quieter. Each time her foot came into contact, it was harder. And harder. A crack. She smiled. Over and over. 1:25am.

The woman stopped moving. Stopped screaming. She had ripped her hand open trying to escape the thing driven into it. The girl turned around and was pleased to see a trail of blood leading out the door to the room.

She curb stomped the woman's head and went out.

A naked, wriggling mass was trying to open the front door. It had removed the knife from its throat. She smiled. She let it get out the door. The red made the doorknob slippery.

The body crawled into the snow. She followed, leaving her cape of darkness for a blanket of white. Before it could reach the sidewalk, she delivered a swift kick to his side. Blood discharged from his mouth. She smiled.

The little girl turned him on his back and dragged the knife from his forehead to his scrotum. Gurgles masked his screams. Red flowed from his mouth. It gushed from the laceration. She smiled. Then tore out the eyes that would watch her sleep, shower, and eat. She buried the eyes inside his skin, so he could see how disgusting his soul was.

The red covered her hands now. It was so warm. She smiled.

She kicked snow over the living corpse, burying him in frost.

Black greeted her back in the house that held her captive for so long. Red ran down her arms. She went back to the kitchen. She stood in front of the calendar for a long time. 2:00am. She circled the "25" with the warm red dripping off her fingers. She smiled. It's the best gift she could ask for:

Warmth.