matilda oneshots i had to get out of my head

day 11: making special breakfast

hi everyone!! welcome welcome to day eleven and your dose of a tiny bit of holiday angst!

tw for
repercussions of child abuse/trauma

enjoy!!

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Jenny is awoken in the wee hours of the morning by sounds in the hallway outside her room.

Frowning in confusion, she puts on her slippers and cracks the door, listening to what must be Matilda in the hall, creaking down it and down the stairs. Jenny opens her door the rest of the way and steps out. The clock against the far wall reads 3:45 a.m. What is she doing awake?

She follows her curiously down the stairs and finds her in the living room, with the lights to the Christmas tree turned on. Otherwise the room is pitch dark. Matilda sits on her knees facing it, almost unmoving.

"Matilda?" Jenny murmurs. Matilda jumps and whirls around to see her, surreptitiously wiping some tears from her eyes with the back of her sleeve and sniffling quietly. "What are you doing up?"

"I'm sorry," Matilda whispers shakily.

Jenny frowns and goes to kneel beside her daughter. Matilda sobs quietly as Jenny wraps an arm around her shoulders. Jenny frowns in concern and pulls her close, rubbing her hand gently up and down Matilda's arm. "It's alright, firefly. Why are you so upset, now?"

Matilda is quiet for a long, long time, her tears twinkling in her eyes and as they fall down her cheeks, reflecting the white lights shining on the Christmas tree.

Her voice trembles when her lips part and she softly says, "E-every year, there would be so-so many gifts under the tree they spread out from beneath it for a meter on-on every side."

Jenny turns to look at her, and just listens.

"And every year on-on Christmas Eve, I'd sneak out of bed and go downstairs and I'd check all of them. Every single one. To see if it-it had my name," Matilda continues. "And none... none of them ever did. Every one was for Mum, or Michael, or for Dad. Every one. I never saw my name on any. I never had a stocking."

Jenny is almost in tears listening to the child explain.

"I-I'm... thrilled, to live here. It's so wonderful. But... I think about them every day. In science there's always a reason for why things happen. And in stories you almost always find out why things happen, too. And I just-I just don't know what I did wrong."

"Oh, darling," Jenny says as Matilda's voice breaks at the end of the sentence and she breaks down sobbing, face towards the floor. She's limp and molds willingly to her body when Jenny picks her up and cradles her in her lap.

"Why did they love Michael and not me? Why-why didn't they want me? Ever, even though I tried so-so hard?! Why didn't... why didn't they love me?!"

She starts crying so hard she's hyperventilating, and Jenny is a little worried she'll be sick. She squeezes her child even tighter to her and rocks her, squeezes her, holds her, cries right along with her.

She knows Matilda isn't able to take in information in her state, at least not now. Even still, she gently hushes her, murmurs, "I know, darling, I know, let it out. I'm here, I've got you. Shhh, I know."

Matilda cries for at least an hour. Sometimes her sobs slow only to pick right up again, but for the most part, she just releases those heavy, deep, heart-wrenching, stomach-aching sobs that wrack her whole little body and send millions of teardrops soaking into Jenny's pajama top. They both just sit there and cry together, in the brisk, dark, early hours of the morning.