Christmas Dinner
This is pretty short, but oh…well.
Christmas, the holiday I disliked the most, and Christmas dinner…I hated it more than most of the regular ones, but I had no choice.
I smooth out my white dress, which represents what my family likes to call our “innocence”.
I make my way down the stairs, and into the kitchen, there I eat a salad and some orange juice.
But, unfortunately my dad yells at me to come to the table, I sigh in sadness, and exit the kitchen entering the dining room.
I stand in front of the table, I study the aging wooden floor, trying to avoid our “dinner”.
“Look up, Angie” my mother tells me, sharply.
I slowly look up just in time to see my dad slicing into the skin of young girl.