Day 365 #TTC2016

Day 365

Day 365.

Known to everyone else as Christmas Day.

Known to me as the 365th day without her.

It's the the first thought that enters my mind when I wake up, today is the year anniversary.

"Get up Cassie its Christmas!" all I want to do is roll over and fall straight back to sleep and not have to go through today. But I can't because my little sister is bouncing on the end of my bed.

"Merry Christmas," I forced a smile even though it felt like my face was being cracked in two. I bet she doesn't even know what this day means. She's so young she can forget what last Christmas Day did to our family.

"Come on Cassie I want to open Santas presents," Sylvie bobs up and down, her golden ringlets flying through the air.

"Presents," I widened my eyes, "I thought you wouldn't get any because you've been such a monkey."

I pulled her in for a hug and tickled her sides enjoying hearing her adorable giggle and feeling her breath tickle my ear. I breathed in her sleepy scent and held her tiny body so tight to mine that I could feel her heartbeat on through her Elsa pyjamas.

She's here, I tell myself, I can hear her breathing and feel her heartbeat. She's not going anywhere.

"Aw Cassie you're hurting me," Sylvie wriggled out of my grip and clapped her hands in delight, "it's Christmas Day, the best day of the whole year!"

I wished I could go back to a time when I agreed, when Christmas was nothing more than a day to spend with family and to open presents. When I didn't have the line of scars on my arms to show how much I hated Christmas Day.

I put on a false smile for Sylvie's benefit, I'd make this day good for her because she deserved it. She shouldn't be dragged into our pain. I let her tug me downstairs, mum and dads bedroom door was shut. Mum probably wouldn't be awake for a while, I'd heard her last night wondering around the house.

"Sloane," mum had been yelling, her voice trailing off at the end. I could perfectly picture what she would look like, withering away in her nightgown and reaching for something just in front of her but never quite able to catch it. She stopped right outside my door and I knew what was going to happen next, she started crying. I lay curled up in bed hearing my mum, the person who was meant to be so strong and protective, crying her eyes out.

Hearing your mum heave sobs of heartbreak was something I wouldn't wish on anyone in the world.

Dad came and got her after ten minutes or so of wailing, I heard him comforting her, guiding her back to bed. Just as he did when mum had one of her episodes nearly every night.

So it was just Sylvie and I in the living room as she opened her stocking. She ripped apart the wrapping paper on each present without a second thought and a delighted smile would spread across her face at each one.

She was too young to notice the empty space next to me on the sofa, the seats where mum and dad should fill as they cheered her on, the dull silence that should've been extinguished with laughter.

"Where's your stocking Cassie?" Sylvie turned to me, her bottom lip sticking out cutely. She had the same face as Sloane, the same almond shaped blue eyes, snub nose and slight gap between her front teeth. It wasn't her fault, that she looked like the exact replica of her big sister, that each time mum looked at Sylvie she felt a stab in her heart. None of this was Sylvie's fault yet she could never understand why mum never met her hopeful eyes anymore.