When Boundaries Are Broken. [The Sequel to WFAF.] (1)

Prologue: Hopeful Holidays.

-Riiiiing!-

“Jasmine, could you answer the door please? This turkey is giving me hell.”

“Yeah sure, Dad,” I shouted through from the front room to the kitchen, “It's not like I'm disabled or anything. I mean, I definitely don't have crutches, do I?”

“Stop being a mardy-bum. It's Christmas day, now go answer the door!” He shouted back, sounding egar.

'Who the heck is ringing our doorbell on Christmas day?' I thought to myself as I hobbled, yes hobbled, to the door. They better have a good reason for interrupting my watching of The Grinch or so help me G-

“SURPRISE! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

“HAPPY CHRISTMAS, JASSY!”

I threw open the door and all at once people were screaming at me. Uncle Simon, Auntie Marie and Damien!

“Guys! What?! What are you doing here?!” I exclaimed, utter shock consuming me.

“We came to visit, silly, now are you going to let us in? It's cold out here and we have presents!” my Aunt Marie declared, walking past me and into the house followed closely by a running Damien.

“PRESENTSSSSS!”

I laughed at them both as I held the door open, my Uncle Simon dragging two suitcases behind him.

“Oh, are you guys staying here with us, Uncle Si?” I asked, grabbing a bag from him and hauling it into the entrance hall as I pushed the door closed with my bum.

“Nope,” he replied with a cheeky grin on his face, his cheeks still flushed from the cold outside, “this is the product of your Aunt figuring out how Amazon works. So help me God, she cost us three hundred dollars in excess baggage fees. You best love these presents more than you've ever loved anything. Merry Christmas, kiddo!”

I grinned and thanked him as he kissed my cheek. My Dad came running through to the entrance hall to help Simon into the front room with the cases.

“Surprised, Jasmine? See. Maybe now you'll stop being so much of a moody cow!”

“Dad! You haven't even let me open any of my presents yet and all you've done is stress over a Nigella Lawson recipe. You do it every year, just stick the turkey in the oven. I'm sure It will cook all the same.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“I was waiting for our guests to arrive so we could open presents, Missy! As for the turkey, that can cook itself. I'm over it, we can order in pizza.”

I broke into hysterical laughter at that, knowing that he would go straight back into the kitchen and figure it out eventually. Honestly, he does it every year. I headed back into the front room to greet my Aunt and Damien while my Dad and Uncle Simon plodded off into the kitchen, muttering about spices and basting techniques.

“Jassy! I missed you!” Damien declared, jumping on top of me as I collapsed onto the sofa next to my Aunt. My leg is still injured and, although I am getting my energy back slowly, moving and even laughing tires me out. It really, truly, royally sucks.

“Oof, remember your big sister is still a little poorly, Damien! I missed you, too, honey.” I said as I gave him a cuddle, sneakily pushing him off of my lap and onto the sofa next to me.

“How have you been, Jasmine? You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. Mind, that was in a hospital.”

“Not too bad,” I replied to my aunt, smiling softly, “I'm mostly healed now, save for my leg. And I'm seeing a counsellor but that's not my doing. Personally, I think it's a load of shi – sugar.” I corrected myself, grinning sheepishly, remembering that Damien was listening. My aunt laughed.