A Christmas Wish

His aftermath

Brown

25 December 1998 (7 years old)

The hospital turned out to be unexpectedly cosy, though there were much fewer people around. It was Christmas, a time of reunion and a lovely festive season. Mom and I did not make plans to spend our Christmas in hospital. Yet, here we are, surrounded by four white walls, decorated with loops of pine leaves.

The police came over to my house last night, after Cass died. That was the time that I decided that no one on Earth was trustworthy, that the world is a terrible place. Dad didn’t even call the police or ambulance after she died, that is how evil he is.

Me? I am no better. I just waited in the cabinet and watched everything happened in front of my eyes. What does that make me? Am I a killer too?

“I just need you to answer a few simple questions. Relax.”

The man in the white coat asked me politely.  Mum said I am here to meet the therapist. We will be having a few sessions and he is supposed to guide me through this hard time. I’m sure the fees must be costly. 

When we went back home tonight, a pang of sadness hit me. I didn’t realise how empty the house feel yesterday, probably because I can’t even feel a thing after Cass’s death. She was so young and innocent. Why did God take away her life and not dad’s? Why?

Mum suggested keeping some of Cass’s stuff and throwing the rest away.

To keep: The teddy bear that Cass holds to sleep, the CD of ‘The Polar Express’ that we watch together every Christmas, Cass’s one and only storybook from Roald Dahl.

We are throwing the rest away. No one would want stuff that is so old anyway. We went through Cass’s stuff thoroughly to make sure that we did not leave out any. There was an envelope, lying underneath Cass’s pillow. ‘To Santa’ marked the front of the envelope with an illegible handwriting.

Cass loved Santa Claus. She believed that Santa do exist and would make her wish comes true. I opened up the envelope and started reading the letter. There were only a few lines:

Dear Santa,

I love dad, mum and Brown.

I want we to be happy like before.

Thank Santa.

By Cass.

Cass’s cursive writing filled the whole paper. Brown put the letter in front of his chest. He decided that this would be his constant reminder of Cass’s death and her short existence in this world.