Princess (Ziam)

Thanksgiving Special

Happy Thanksgiving!

For those if you who feel lonely during the holiday season, please know that you aren't. I am always here to talk-- there is always someone, somewhere.

You guys asked for this, so you are getting it now. :)

Here is your special Thanksgiving update! (Although they are British, so please keep that in mind lol)

Part 1: Before You

Liam

       I sat at the end of the table, watching silently as my mum set down all of the food. I looked around the room, seeing the Christmas tree that my mum had already decided to set up. She said that she was trying to be more efficient this year than ever before. She wanted to take care of every thing she had to do beforehand.

     I sat with my hands tucked in my lap, wringing my own fingers together as if they were the napkin that sat beside my empty plate.

     We were waiting for my father to arrive in order to start eating. My mum was still setting the table, and I offered my help, but she insisted that I just sit patiently and relax. I didn't understand why she felt the need to overwork herself all of the time-- whether it be at home or at work. Why didn't she allow my father to pick up some of her slack?

     "Karen?" My father called, and I heard the front door open and close moments before he was stepping foot into the dining room. He looked at the table with a smile, one that only seemed to waver from his face as soon as he saw me sitting at the end of the table. It was almost as if he had forgotten-- for just a moment-- that I existed.

    "Why aren't you helping your mother?" His voice was leveled, but his eyes were an icy glare, displaying no emotions except for the blatant hatred he seemed to harbor for me. He took a step further into the room, placing his hands on the chair in front of him-- knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping the metal of the chair.

    "She told me to sit here." I averted my eyes from his fiery ones. I looked down at the place mat on the table, focusing on the swirled design that it featured.

    "Well, I'm telling you to get up and help her set this table. She's the one who cooked all of this up. She shouldn't have to set the table alone. You know what," My father began, walking even closer to me, and I grabbed the frame of the table with my hands, squeezing in pure terror of his approaching form. "You should be setting the table for us. Make yourself useful instead of just sitting here and--"

     He cut himself off as my mum stepped back into the kitchen, a hot bowl of mashed potatoes in her hands. She looked up and saw my dad, offering up a smile as my father smiled down at me and ruffled my hair with his giant hand. I did my best not to flinch. The gentle touches were now foreign to me-- danger hiding behind their implied intent.

    "Doesn't this all look amazing, Liam," He called out, chuckling as he spoke. "Your mother's really outdone herself."

     "Thank you, dear," My mother said as she set down the final dish onto the table. She motioned for my father to grab a seat, and he squeezed my shoulder-- tight over where I already had a bruise underneath my shirt. I winced, but my mother's eyes were focused on the table, making sure everything was arranged properly. "I didn't hear you come in."

     "Just got here. Liam says you've been preparing all day," He commented, pretending to be calm and collected. It was the parts of him that my mother must've fallen in love with so many years ago. Those parts were now only facades-- different faces he put on throughout the day to distract my mum from the hideous human being underneath. And my mum only saw those sides, refusing to accept that there may be something else there instead. She seemed so happy living her lie.