Novel & Cerita Christmas Time Is Killing Us

I look over at Yasmin like she’s lost her mind as I tape up another line of tinsel over the napkins and straws. “How could you hate Christmas, you cuckoo bird?” I ask. “It’s like, the cheeriest, happiest, friendliest—” “Annoyingest—” “Most annoying,” I correct her. “Like you.” She smirks, pointing a finger at me. “Annoyingest time of year.” I faux-gasp, placing a hand over my gaping mouth. “Sinful!” “Oh, shut up! Everyone is running around pretending to like each other, pretending to be cheery, pretending they don’t all want to kill each other over politics and religion every five seconds—”

Christmastime was connected to too many horrible memories. Christmas Time. Seven years ago I couldn’t sleep. No matter how I twisted and turned, I always managed to lie on the bruises. Father had been in a horrible mood today. Mother said it had something to do with us being in New York. Tomorrow, we’d finally return to Atlanta, and then his mood would be better. Soon, everything would be better. Soon, Father would have solved all of his problems and we’d finally be happy. I knew it wasn’t true. He would never be happy, never stop hitting us. Father enjoyed his unhappiness and he enjoyed making us suffer.

It was a testament to the unity and deep connections we shared. On Christmas Eve, we gathered in the grand hall, the air humming with an electric energy. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow, as Golder stepped forward, her voice filled with joy and gratitude. She spoke of love, unity, and the true spirit of Christmas. Her words resonated with each pack member, reminding us of the precious bonds that held us together.

Christmas is the time of the year where there's lots of sweets to chow on, snow, ice skating and I get a lot of presents from Santa aka dad. My last Christmas wasn't all that memorable, I didn't go skating as was tradition and the tree wasn't filled with present, just a little here and there. Mary Lou our cook was in depression and from my mom shouting hear and there —she was in a sour mood too— most the food ended up burnt. I cried throughout Christmas until the next day. But this Christmas is going to be better, yes no daddy but there's mummy and there's Aaron and Jesse and Nadine and Peyton. Let's not forget Liv my personal fighter.

Tiny, twinkling white lights bobbed, like they knew something we didn’t. “So,” he said, slowly, the way he always did when he was about to propose something completely and deliciously out of left field. “Technically… It’s already Christmas Eve in Greece.” I blinked. “What?” “Time zones. Very real. Very important,” he said, deadpan, lips quirking. “So maybe… we should open like one gift tonight. For the sake of international equilibrium.” I looked at him, holding in a smile. “International equilibrium?” He nodded seriously. “The respectful thing to do.”

"I ordered your favorite soft pink wedding dress. After surgery, the designer will take your measurements. At our wedding, you'll be the most beautiful bride." I smiled and touched his face. This was my farewell. Tears streamed down my face, and a silent thought echoed. "Ethan, there won't be a wedding for us." As the doors to the operating theater closed, I kept my gaze fixed on the three people I loved most; I wanted to commit their faces to memory. Once these doors closed, I knew I would never see them again. As anesthesia dulled my senses, the world around me faded away. My death was declared at precisely 10:00 pm, as indicated by the wall clock.

WOOD POV My paperwork was ruined. Totally and utterly unsalvageable. I dabbed myself down with a fistful of paper towels in the kitchen, cursing that sweet little slip of a girl for her clumsiness. Mine too. I hated the holidays. The frantic wrapping up of business to account for the slack days between Christmas Day and New Year was nothing but a ball ache. Everyone was vacant and preoccupied with their looming time off, forgetting conveniently that business continued on regardless. Orders to ship out, and schedules to maintain. Fuck the downtime, and fuck the stupid Christmas jingles and Santa hats and ridiculous office decor.

“Oh, shut up! Everyone is running around pretending to like each other, pretending to be cheery, pretending they don’t all want to kill each other over politics and religion every five seconds—” “Yeah, it’s great!” I interrupt. “I don’t want to argue over politics and religion. I just want to sing some Christmas carols, drink some hot chocolate in my ugly Christmas sweater, and forget about everything else that goes on during the other eleven months of the year. Is that too much to ask?” Brit, my co-worker, who hasn’t done much other than hold the things required for me to decorate the shop today, smirks and shrugs. “Is it also too much to ask for you to help me with this long piece of tinse

He is insinuating her to be always think of someone who doesn’t really prioritize her but sometimes uses her for his own self-satisfaction, saying, “Why not spend your time with us enjoying life instead of spending your thoughts on pointless problems? Come on, open the windows, and take in the sights and marvels of the surrounding atmospheres. And join us in celebrating the Christian holiday season, which honors the arrival of the Lord, Savior of all sinners, with the delicious fruits and foods we provided.” With a giggle, one of the five teammates said,

Lenox pov “You know, back home we have this thing we call Christmas. Do you have Christmas?” I ask Ragh to distract myself from the boredom of walking. “No,” he grumbles and glances at me. “What is that?” “Oh, it’s no biggie, only like the best damn day in the entire year, asshole!” I gasp. “You get loads of gifts, the best food and you spend time with your family near the fireplace while it’s freezing cold outside.”