Haven never expected to start receiving gifts twelve days before Christmas. They seemed to appear out of nowhere right when she needed them most. She wanted to figure out who was sending her these gifts, but the notes left with them didn't give anyt...
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"Deck the halls with boughs of holly!" My sister's voice rings over me as I slowly wake up, terror running through my veins. She continues singing to me like I'm a little child struggling to go to sleep, but this time, I'm having a hard time waking up. What is going on, and why is she singing to me like this? "'Tis the season to be jolly!"
And then I realize what is going on -- Hartley is torturing me, as always. I groan, throwing the yellow quilt over my head, feeling my dreamland drain away from me quickly. Pressing my hands to my ears with my blanket bunched in my fingers, I try to block out my sister's extremely loud singing, but it's like she is a freaking siren from Greek mythology. I'm not sure why she decided she'd scream the lyrics to the song, but it's getting on my nerves. Doesn't she know that I need my beauty rest or else I will be a zombie the rest of the day? I get that she's trying to get Grandma and me into the holiday spirit, but I'm not really feeling it this year (which isn't much different from any year before this one).
My quilt is ripped off of my body and flung to the side, like it was trying to cover up Hartley's mess on the ground, leaving me open to everything Hartley is throwing at me, voice and all. The air is colder outside of my covers, but thankfully I was already warm to begin with. My eyes flash open, and I see Hartley standing above me, a wide grin on her annoying face. Her very own sunshine trickles down on me, and I try to block it out with my moody clouds.
"It's time to get up, Haven!" she says in a singsong voice, to the tune of the song she was singing to me just a minute earlier. That just irritates me even more, and I glare up at her. Her sunny eyes don't dim, though. She's used to my tricks because it's the same every year -- Hartley all excited for the Christmas season, while I'm just not. "Grandma has finally given into the Christmas Spirit, and now it's your turn!"
"What time is it?"
"Eight in the morning."
"On a Saturday morning?" I scrub a hand across my face, sighing. My sister is looking down at me with an expectant smile, one that I know is forced right now even if she's still as sunny as ever. She knows the surface level of my feelings, which means that she knows that I am a little trepid about this holiday season. The thing is, she doesn't know why I'm acting like this, and it's going to stay that way. "Hartley, you don't have to be peppy at every minute of every day."
"Yes, I do," she says, grabbing my hands into hers. She starts tugging on them, but I don't get up. Instead, she pulls me nearly off of the bed, leaving me hanging half on, half off of my bed, following the same direction as my comforter. Fear jumps up into my throat as my legs start sliding off my bed. "Haven, get up. We're putting up the tree, and I know that's your favorite part of this whole season."
My eyes flutter shut as the blood pools in the top of my head. It doesn't exactly feel good, but I don't stop it. I slide the rest of the way onto the ground where her clothes are strewn everywhere, waiting to get put in the laundry or away. Wrapping my blanket around my shoulders, I snuggle into the deep pile of clothes, glad for once that my sister is the messiest person I know. "Is Grandma even awake?"
