New Mexico's winter nights are never filled with much snow. The ground would be covered with about ¾ of an inch in snow. Some of the ground won't even be covered at all during this time. The sky is normally clear with twinkling pinpricks of white paint for stars, scattered across dark paper. There normally is a small, singing breeze passing steadily through the air. On this night however, the breeze absented the air and the stars left the sky. The sky had been engulfed by an intense mix of grays of clouds; the world sat in silence to prepare itself for the unpredictable events lying ahead.
"Momma, do you have any wrapping paper," the mini 7 year old me said.
"Why would you need wrapping paper?" she questioned.
"I made presents for my friends. I'm gonna put them underneath the tree tonight so Santa can pick them up and deliver them for me," I explained proudly of my accomplishments.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Tony has some. I don't know where he is. He left earlier."
"I'll just color paper and use that," I replied while grabbing crayons and some copy paper, which sat on the top of the microwave. I then sat down on the cold, grey painted, concrete floor of the living room as my mom plopped onto her bed in the doorless room next to the living room.
I colored away letting my 7 year old imagination flow onto paper. My year younger sister, who I at the time called Bee Bear, sat next to me making a creation of her own. My present making inspired her to make Christmas cards for everyone she cared about. I kept looking at the two foot tall Christmas tree and pictured in my mind how happy Santa would be to see my presents to be delivered.
Mom came in and switched on the T.V. Her sweet scented perfume filled the room. She was surfing through the channels to find a good Christmas show to put everyone more into the Christmas spirit. I finished coloring and wrapping my presents and placed them neatly underneath the tree. They sat on a layer of cotton, a nice addition to the decor of the tree, and thought of how my friends would react, waking up to find that Santa delivered presents to them from me.
Then I began to wonder: where was Tony?
"Mom, where did Tony go?" I asked.
"I don't know. He's been gone for a while, huh? I think he went with Thomas. He should be back soon," she answered with no concern. I wasn't too concerned either. Thomas was a nice guy who lived on Tony's family ranch, so what could go wrong?
I went to the end of the couch where my chunky, brown dog named Jessie's bed sat. I held her white T-shirt in my hand that had Clifford the Big Red Dog on the front with the word "READ" printed beneath the image. "Jessie, come here," I summoned. She came happily trotting towards me. Her little dog body was composed of big features: long, floppy ears and sausage shaped body. I lifted her onto the couch and slipped the little shirt over her head which she gladly accepted. Jessie was my best friend. Better than the ones at school who really only talked to me to make fun of me. We cuddled on the couch as my Mom turned the light off and we watched Michael Buble singing Christmas songs on the small T.V.
I was slowly dozing off. It was warm with Jessie's sweet, soft body on my arm. She fell asleep, which only made me sleepier, a soothing sleeping spell.
SLAM! Before I could completely doze off, my eyes opened as my body sprung up to a sitting positions, like a spooked cat. Jessie was up. Frightened by the sound, she ended up jumping off of the couch barking at the intruder who threw the door open.
No worries. It was just Tony.
"Tony! Where have you been?" Mom asked surprised by the sudden and loud entrance.
"I wershif toemahh," he slurred, clearly having trouble forming words.
"What?" We couldn't put together what he said.
"Cabrona," he said, clearly a little more angered, "Thomas!"
[Silence] Why was he so mad? Fear, a cold electric shock, filled my body. Jessie jumped back on the couch now very nervous and began whimpering. Tony kept muttering sounds that our ears could not form into words.
"Tony..." my mom began, "have you been drinking?"
My eyes did not leave him. My arms remained wrapped around Jessie. My throat remained tight. My back remained stiff. My body remained frozen.
Tony began to unzip his pants. This action made me confused until he reached in his jeans where he pulled out a bottle of Corona beer the size of a large wine bottle. There was about ⅛ of the bottle left with liquid. I glanced at Mom. Her eyes were widened. "You have!" she exclaimed.
[More mutters and mumbles with a side of laughter] " You--y--you need to...stupid woman," he said as we remained silent. "GET OUT!" he now yelled. His face turned red and he was sweating profusely with fury in his eyes. Bee Bear trembled in fear. This man was not the Tony we knew. The Tony we knew was somewhere else. This man upon us was a monster who is taking Tony's place.
"What are you talking about, Tony," Mom asked with a shaky voice. Tony yelled more mixed up words and stomped violently towards my mother. I began to hyperventilate. Jessie barked. Tony's balled up fists reached my mother's thighs. He beat her. He beat her with pure fury. Why was he like this? My naive, young mind didn't understand the side affects of alcohol. My mother lie on the couch blocking her face with her forearms as me and my little sister sat there with tears filling our little faces. Mom tried getting away. He strangled her against the wall.
"Kids! Go get Helen! Hurry!"
I burst out the front door with Jessie behind me. I looked behind myself, hoping my sister would be there. She wasn't. I knelt in the snow with nothing on my feet but my socks. "Jessie," I began as I look towards the road. "We are gonna run away. We're gonna go get Helen first. Then we'll run away." Tears were racing down my cheeks. I prepared a vague yet possible plan. Helen was stronger than Tony. She could hold her brother down as we ran away.
"Sister!" I turned around to find Bee Bear calling me back in. My mind refused, but my body went back in. I found my mother, makeup runny, Tony held down on a bed by his father, and Tony's mother telling us to pack as much as we could and leave. We grabbed our clothing. As we finished shoving the car with clothes, Tony became free and chased me. He kicked Jessie and tried hitting me with a glass bottle. Tony's dad tackled Tony and we jumped in the car. With Jessie in my lap, we drove away.
Who would have guessed that Tony, the man who loved my mother, would try to kill her on this night. Who would have thought. Christmas, "the most wonderful time of the year", the time for giving and spreading healing happiness, would leave us so broken. Not only were we physically harmed, but now I'm stuck with paranoia, trust issues, anxiety. Nothing will be the same. Each year when Christmas comes around, there will be less of a "jolly" mood.
