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🥘 thirteen. shove it (and lock it away) .⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊
FOUR YEARS EARLIER.
Snow fell outside during the evening hours of Christmas Eve and inside one particular house that belonged to Donna Berzatto, it stirred with chaos. Loud yelling, pots clashing and banging onto the floor, and there were small fractures of laughter. Cars amongst cars were parked besides the snowy sidewalk and into the driveway. The neighbors were gone for Christmas which was why the noises within the house was so loud and why the whole house was filled with cigarette smoke. Atticus Sinclair couldn't keep up with it, especially when his wife was drinking red wine, and he took a step outside to take a deep breath in the freezing cold. He inhaled then exhaled, controllably, five times in general.
Atticus Sinclair knew that Donna meant well enough when she, or rather Mikey did, invited his family of three for Christmas Eve dinner, but he swore that the dysfunctional relationships within the house would make him double down and have a stroke. His wife, Mary, was already drinking red wine and smoking cigarettes which was normal even though she swore that she would be sober during the dinner.
At this point, Atticus merely stayed with Mary so they could seem as a good couple to their daughter and other people within the social circle of the Berzatto, Cicero, and Jerimovich family.
It was a goddamn nightmare in Atticus's opinion.
But the completely filled house wasn't the last thing on his mind. Atticus was painfully aware that his daughter wasn't with them when Mikey had asked where she was aloud and truth be told, Atticus didn't even know either.
He wouldn't blame her though because she was old enough to make her own decisions, but it still hurt that she just up and left. Atticus hoped that his daughter was okay, especially since her recent diagnosis of anxiety and asthma, possibly depression too.
Again, he wouldn't blame her.
Atticus huffed air into his dry hands to create some warmth on his skin and he rubbed his hands together. His cheeks were flushed with red, jumping when there was a loud noise coming from the kitchen, and Donna's loud screeching echoed out of the curtained windows. He ignored it though when he saw a figure walking down the snowy sidewalks and for a moment, he hoped that the person would be his daughter.
But, no.
The person kept walking with their head down.
Atticus sighed softly, blowing hot air into his hands again, and he rubbed his hands together.
