Part of the first chapter from the book I started writing.

**Warpt762x39** · March 16th, 2009, 10:32 PM

At the age of 8 years old, Chris Jones has seen a lot of things in his life that no child should have to see. His father Alan was unemployed, and has been an alcoholic for as long as anyone can remember. Chris' mother, Elizabeth, Liz to her friends, had been supporting the small family as best she could, working as a waitress at the diner on the corner.

She was on her way home after closing up the diner early for Christmas Eve with a plate of food for her husband. She walked in the front door to find Chris hiding in his room and her husband passed out on the living room floor, an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hand. She quietly walked through the living room towards her son's bedroom past her husband. She didn't want to wake him. Things are peaceful in the house when he's passed out. She sat on the floor of the small bedroom next to her crying son.

"What's the matter honey?" she asked him.

"Daddy said that we don't get a Christmas this year." He sobbed.

"Why wouldn't we have Christmas this year?" she inquired. "Christmas is going to be here in the morning. Nothing can make that not happen."

"But daddy said it's not going to come for us." He looked tearfully up at his mother.

"It's time for you to go to bed sweetie. It's getting late and Santa won't be able to bring you presents if you're still awake."

"Okay mommy. I love you." He smiled as he spoke those last 3 words.

"I love you too baby. I'll see you in the morning when you get to open your presents." She stood up and walked from the room and looked sadly at her son. She just couldn't see how her husband could say something like that to their little boy. She thought back to when she first met her husband.

He had been such a gentleman when she met him at the library in high school. He was the tall, good looking baseball player that all the girls had crushes on. She had always thought of herself as an average girl. None of the guys in school had ever paid her much attention until her senior year. That year she had blossomed into quite the swan. It still surprised her though, when Alan had walked over to her table in the library and slipped her a note asking her to the prom. It took her a few days to get up the courage to actually say yes to him, but when she did she became the envy of every other girl in the school.

Prom night was an amazing night for her. She managed to find the perfect dress that fit her just right and her hair finally managed to do what she had wanted it to. At 8 o'clock her door bell rang, her father had answered the door to find Alan standing there in his black tux. Her father called for her up the stairs for her as Alan stood by the door waiting for his date to come down. When she came downstairs she took everyone's breath away. Even her father was surprised at how beautiful and radiant she looked. Alan took her hand and walked her to the limo that was waiting at the curb. He opened the door and let her in like the perfect gentleman.

The prom itself was amazing. She couldn't have asked for a more perfect night. After a night of dancing and chatting with friends, Alan again walked her to the limo that would take her home. As he walked her to her front door he leaned in slowly and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips before whispering a soft good night in her ear. She fell asleep that night remembering every song and every dance. She had found the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

Liz stood there in the hallway watching her husband's slow breathing as he lay on the living room floor. Had she known then what she knew now, she never would have accepted his invitation to that dance. The first year of their marriage was like any other. Excitement at the prospect of spending the rest of their lives together coupled with the stress of trying to figure out how a marriage is supposed to work made for an interesting year. It was hard but they loved each other and they worked hard to keep things together.

Then about a year after Chris was born things changed drastically. Alan was no longer the gentleman and loving husband he had been before. He had started drinking a lot and losing his temper at the smallest provocation. In the beginning he just yelled a lot when he was drunk but he had escalated the last 2 years to beating his wife and young son for the stupidest reasons. One of the worst beatings Liz had ever had at the hands of her husband started over orange juice. She had gone shopping the day before and grabbed orange juice with pulp by mistake. Alan hated pulp in his orange juice in the morning. He said it didn't mix well with vodka that way.

He had seen the label on the container in the fridge just as Liz had walked into the kitchen. He didn't say a word, but strode across the room and grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the door frame.

"You know I can't stand pulp in my orange juice!" he screamed at her as he pinned her to the wall.

She couldn't say anything because of his fist gripping her throat.

"I'm going to teach you that when I say jump, you JUMP!" he shouted as he threw her across the kitchen onto the floor.

As she lay on the bright blue tile floor had walked over and planted a kick into her ribs, shattering them in the process. He stomped on her left hand as it lay on the floor, breaking most of the small bones and 3 of her fingers. Her wedding ring was mangled on her finger, cutting off most of the blood supply to her fingertip. He grabbed her by the collar and forced her to her feet standing her against the fridge. He pulled back his right fist and sank it deep into her stomach. All the breath was forced from her lungs, leaving her gasping for air as she sank to the floor.

Alan left her broken on the floor as he grabbed his keys and drove to the liquor store for another bottle of whiskey.

Liz crawled to the front door where a neighbor spotted her laying there barely conscious. She was taken to the hospital where she was treated for her broken ribs and hand and a lacerated liver from the punch he sank deep into her gut. She spent the next 4 days in the hospital before the doctor declared her well enough to go home. As punishment for costing him money for hospital bills, Alan locked his still recovering wife in the closet for 2 days before he let her out. She tried to leave him but couldn't do it for fear of him finding and killing her, and she couldn't leave her son behind to take the brunt of his temper.

The memory of that incident still haunted Liz, who at 27 was feeling a lot older than her years. She quietly went to the kitchen to fix herself a glass of milk before bed. She heard her husband get clumsily to his feet, not thinking much of it. He was too drunk to cause any trouble anyway.

Alan walked to the side table next to the couch and took a revolver from the drawer. He knew what had to be done, she was going to leave him and he couldn't let that happen. He staggered drunkenly to the kitchen and pointed the gun at the back of his wife's head. She never even saw the gun that killed her. She fell lifelessly to the floor and lay in a puddle of blood.

"Now no one can have you." Alan mumbled under his breath.

Chris had awoken at the sound of the gun shot from the kitchen. He didn't know what was going on but he knew that it wasn't Santa that was making that noise. He saw his bedroom door open to reveal the silhouette of his father. He covered his head with his blankets; his father coming to his bedroom this late at night was never a good thing. It usually meant a beating that would leave him sobbing himself to sleep.

Tonight there would be no beating as his father pointed the gun at the shape that was his son under the blankets. A shot rang out in the small bedroom, the muzzle flash showing the manic look in Alan's eyes. There's nothing left for him to do but end it completely, he put the muzzle of the still smoking gun to his temple and squeezed off one last round.

The clock on the mantle tolled midnight. Christmas did come, but not the way it should have.