Choice's Curse {d.m.}

Finally

The clean smell of magnolias brushed my nose as I stepped into the foyer, the dark wooden floor creaking beneath my feet. Everything was the same as I had left, like it always was. There wasn't a single vase or book or rug that was even slightly out of place, because of my mother's obsession with giving off the illusion that we were a happy, perfect family. Her ignorance went so far that she pretended not to notice any new bruises or red burn marks that frequently popped up on my skin, never once stopped my father in any of his drunken tyrades unless company was coming over.

For that, I blamed her just as much as the man who had littered my skin with permanent reminders of his view of my worth.

The stairs to my right were wrapped with a garland of holly leaves, and I could just see the edge of an impeccably decorated Christmas tree that was set in the corner of the living room, no doubt put up just to show off to any of my mother's various coworkers that happened to stop by during the holiday season. The sitting room to my left that consisted of a stiff gray couch, a shelf full of classic literature, and a wonderfully large black piano was left undecorated, and for a moment I felt that familiar pull to the instrument, my fingers longing to play once more. The last time I had played had been years ago, before I realized my playing, no matter how proficient, always had a way of angering my father that just wasn't worth the joy it used to bring me.

An odd sort of sadness washed over me, and I tucked it away in the back of my mind, thinking that maybe once these two weeks of hell were done, I could find a piano in the Room of Requirement and let that distant feeling of beauty overwhelm me as my fingers struggled to find the right notes after all this time. I tugged the strap of my bag back onto my shoulder as it slipped down, and made my way as silently as I could up the stairs, trying to savor the last seconds of mental peace I would get until the new year.

Padding up the stairs, I saw that nothing was out of place in the second floor hallway either. The doors were all shut, the carpet was clean, and the rugs that were laid on the floor were straight and neat. My room was the last door on the left, the others being the bathroom, my mother's office, and the guest room. My parent's bedroom was downstairs, though I could hardly recall the last time the two of them spent any moment there simultaneously. I softly swung open my door, taking in the twin bed covered with a black comforter, the shelves lining the walls with books and a few photos and trinkets, and my white dresser, who's peeling paint had revealed last summer that there was an odd layer of gold beneath the white. Everything was pristine, as if no one lived there, and I guess for all intents and purposes, no one really did.

I did my best to make sure the only time I spent at home was the exact period of summer break, because that was about all I could handle of this hellhole. Sure, it looked wonderful, but the darkness and secrets that lurked beneath the perfection made the whole house spoiled.

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, I took a steadying breath and set my bag down, ready to tackle this first encounter with my dear parents. A small knock on the doorframe came from my mother, who was dressed in her usual business casual, her hair in a tight, sleek ponytail that seemed frozen in time.

"Elaine," My mother said, her prim accent present even just in a single word. "How lovely to have you home for Christmas. It's been nearly six since you were last here for it." She opened her arms as if to hug me, but I stayed frozen in my spot by my bed.

"I know," I replied shortly, not bothering to note that she hadn't gone to the trouble of even asking me back until this year.

"Your father is here somewhere, I'm sure," Mum said, her botoxed brow furrowing ever so slightly. "He'd love to see you."

Anger, panic, and regret surged through me all at once. I couldn't believe she had the gall to mention that man to me, especially after the past summer. She probably had forgotten all about the way things had escalated, as it had nothing to do with her stupid job or her company.