Waking up in Rhys’s arms was second to none. I’d basked in the morning glow, glad Esme’s interrupted sleep meant she hadn’t been up at the crack of dawn as usual. I shot up in bed, but he pulled me back down.

“It’s fine. She’s still asleep,” he said, against my neck. I didn’t know how I felt about Esme finding me in her dad’s bed, but he didn’t seem concerned.

“What if Esme finds me in here?” I asked tucking the sheet tight around me.

“I’m sure she’d be delighted,” he said, snuggling against my side. “Just five more minutes and then I have to get up.” His eyes were still closed, but I couldn’t deny him that, because it would have been denying myself, too.

Twenty minutes later, we finally rolled out of bed and joined the land of the living. We’d had another round in the shower, hot and sweaty under the cool spray of the water before getting ready for the day.

Rhys headed out to yet another meeting and I went to find my favorite little girl. Once I tracked her down, Esme and I sat in the living room putting a puzzle together. We had almost completed it when the elevator door opened and Rachel stepped into the room.

“Hi, Rachel,” Esme said, chirpily.

“Hi, Esme. Hey, Mel,” she said, juggling tons of bags. I hopped up from the floor.

“Here, let me help you with those,” I offered, grabbing some of the bags out of her hands.

“Thanks,” she huffed out, completely out of breath.

“What is all this stuff? Where do you need me to take it?”

“It’s stuff for the tree. Mr. Thayer…Rhys said to leave it here, the tree decorators will be here soon,” she said, setting the bags down next to the ten-foot-tall tree that had been delivered earlier that day. A tree decorator? Who knew that was a thing?

“Hey Esme, do you want to decorate the tree?” I called over to her. She popped up immediately.

“Yes!”

“It’s okay, Rachel. We can handle it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Rhys was quite insistent that the decorator would be here to do it.”

“Don’t worry, Rachel, I’ll handle it. Just tell him it was my fault.”

Ideas raced through my head on how to make this the best Christmas. And I was immediately transported to a time I’d hoped to forget, except for the fact that those memories helped me through so many hard times over the years. Since the night I saw Rhys at the pool, the nightmares as I called them no longer woke me in a cold sweat. I could enjoy them for what they were. And I looked forward to making even more happy memories, starting with this tree.

I’d never had a real tree for Christmas except for one year. I’d actually had two.

They brought me to Shannon three days before Christmas. The social worker’s car pulled up in front of the small white house with blue shutters and a red door. I thought it looked like a house out of a story with its little flower garden out front and a holly wreath hanging on the door. My face pressed up against the cold window, my breath fogging up the glass. The Ashers came to the door and looked like the perfect mom and dad, like from a TV show. Shannon was wearing a pink apron and Ben had the paper tucked under his arm. I hadn’t expected much. Anxiety and fear raced through my mind.

I had trembled as the social worker handed me off to them, my hand wrapped tightly around the garbage bag that held my meager belongings and that was it. I’d been left with these people I didn’t even know. Other kids who waited with me for their placements told me all about the things they’d experienced. I was a foster kid now and while they seemed like nice people, when you grew up like I did and heard what I’d heard, trusting people didn’t come easily. I cried myself to sleep that first night after Shannon left the room, after reading me three stories. I didn’t know what to do.

It was so quiet. No beer bottles clanking, no loud music thumping. The only sounds were the wind outside my window, and the gentle hum of the heater turning on and off. My whimpers must have not been that quiet, as Shannon cracked open the door and peeked her head inside. I was so scared, I sat straight up in bed. It was never good to draw attention to yourself, never good to make an adult come into your room. But there was no yelling or screaming. No threats of what would happen if I didn’t shut the fuck up.

She brought me a glass of water and set it on the table beside my bed. She stroked my head and hummed me a lullaby. I still remember the warmth of her hand and how soothing it felt running through my hair. My last thought that night was how much I wished I had a mom like her. And for a while I did.

The next few days were a blur of activity. They’d taken the decorations off the tree, so we could all decorate it together, complete with a string of popcorn wrapped around and around the whole length of the tree. Shannon had me help her wrap a couple of presents for Ben and we baked probably a thousand cookies. By the end of that week, I never wanted to see another cookie again, well not really, but for a solid twelve hours, I’d say I didn’t want to have one.

By Christmas Eve, I was the happiest I’d ever been. I didn’t even care about presents. Being there was the best present I could have asked for. Every night Shannon and Ben came in and read me a bedtime story. Watching them with each other showed me how things were supposed to be. There was no screaming and shouting, no one threw anything at anyone else, except for a pillow fight we had. Most importantly, no one was nodding out, so high they couldn’t even form words. No needles and bent spoons laying all over the floor and counters. On Christmas Day, Shannon and Ben came to get me from my room and walked me downstairs.

“We’ve got a special surprise for you, Melanie. We hope you like it,” Shannon said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. Last night, the tree had a few presents I’d helped Shannon and Ben wrap under it. I was so excited to see if they liked their gifts to each other. But when I looked under the tree that morning it overflowed with presents. They weren’t for me. I learned a while ago, before I was seven, that Santa wasn’t real. At least he wasn’t real for kids like me, so I knew they bought them, but I didn’t think any were for me. I’d have been more than happy to just watch them open theirs. I’d never had a Christmas like this before. It was like something out of the movies. I hadn’t expected presents, so when they handed the one to me I was over the moon.

Grinning from ear to ear, I carefully opened the present. The wrapping paper was so pretty, I didn’t want to tear it. I wanted to make it last. I hadn’t ever gotten a present like this before. As I peeled off the paper, a grinning bear in a pink box stared back at me. The two of them stood in front of me, arms around each other, looking at each other like they’d never been happier. I couldn’t hold back my smile. Ben took the box from me, opened it and held the bear out for me. I reached out and pulled my hand back, afraid this was all a trick for some reason. Even with all the kindness they’d showed me, I kept waiting for it to all evaporate and disappear.

“Mel, here. It’s yours,” he said, holding out the bear again. I took it from his hand and wrapped my arms around it, so tightly my arms ached. I’d never had a stuffed animal before.

“Are you ready to open your other presents?” Shannon asked, gesturing under the tree.

“Which ones?” I asked, so content with my bear, I couldn’t stop staring at him. I didn’t need anything else.

“All of them, silly” she said, pointing to the rest of the colorfully wrapped presents sitting under the tree. My mouth dropped open and I slid to my knees on the floor to get a better look at the gifts.

“All of them?” I asked. They both nodded and we spent the rest of the morning unwrapping the presents, drinking hot chocolate and eating pancakes. By the end of that day I had all the new clothes I could have ever wanted. New shoes. A new backpack for school. I don’t think I’d ever had anything new in my life up until then.

That year hurt to remember. The keen longing that hits me whenever I think of my room. My bed, my clothes, my toys and most of all my parents, cleaves me in half and I feel like some part of me has been amputated without my permission. Like I can’t breathe from all the tears that clog my throat, threatening to drown me under all I’ve lost. Skipping to school, waving to my mom from the backyard swing, snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie. It’s all a painful reminder of the life I could have had.

We’d put the tree up again the next year just after Thanksgiving. I couldn’t wait to help bake cookies and wrap presents again. I was in my room when I heard Shannon scream. She never raised her voice, never yelled. I thundered down the stairs and saw her in a heap on the floor, Ben crouched down to comfort her. The social worker was back, she’d popped in every couple of months at the beginning, but I hadn’t seen her in a while. A pit formed in my stomach. No. I didn’t want to believe it. No. They couldn’t send me back. No. Ben and Shannon were my parents now.

And I knew it was all my fault. We’d gone out shopping for Thanksgiving. I wanted to ride on the pony rides outside the grocery store, but Shannon told me to wait, we could do it when we left. I was impatient, comfortable enough to disobey her now. She turned to pick up some things off the shelf and I decided I’d go on those rides by myself.

I just waltzed out of the store and onto the metal horse. I didn’t even have any money to make it go, but I knew I deserved a ride on them. My life of deprivation slowly slipping away from me, I felt like of course I should get a turn. I want to yell and scream at myself. Go back in! Go back to her. But I didn’t. The employees locked down the store, but I was outside. The police came and I’ll never forget the sounds Shannon made when she ran over to me. It was like someone had died.

She held me in her arms and shook. I didn’t know what was wrong, I just wanted to ride on the pony. I wrapped my little arms around her and breathed in her strawberry scent. She always smelled so good. With such a small decision from a little child, I completely changed my life. Imploded it without even knowing it.

One look at Shannon and Ben from the last step of the staircase and I knew. I knew I was going back. They couldn’t keep me. My sadness transformed into anger. A ball of it welling inside of me, threatening to overcome me. Why? Why couldn’t they keep me? Why were they letting them take me? I locked myself in my room and refused to come out. Ben had to unscrew the knob from the door.

The betrayal I felt when the door opened, like a gremlin trying to gnaw its way through me. Ben standing there with the screwdriver in his hand. That he would help them take me crushed me. I didn’t care that his eyes were red rimmed and Shannon had her arms wrapped around herself leaning against the wall sobbing. I didn’t care. They were letting them take me and that was all that mattered.

Each step down the staircase, with as much of my life that fit in my suitcase, was a step toward a place I didn’t want to go. Bile rose in my throat as I stared back at Shannon and Ben from the social worker’s car. It was my life story in reverse, but this time I knew it wouldn’t have a happy ending. I think at some point I must have blacked out or stopped thinking or feeling. Because the next thing I knew I was back in my old house, in my old room, surrounded by everything I’d come to hate about it.

The stench of cigarette smoke covered with some floral scent. I could feel the holes in the mattress under the clean sheet Colleen threw over top of it. From the outside, it looked like she’d cleaned herself up, but I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust her.

Colleen kept things nice for a while. The first few weeks when the social worker checked in, but it wasn’t long before I came back from school and she’d gone through all my things. My bags ransacked, my belongings thrown on the floor, dresser drawers pulled out. She’d taken my clothes, my toys. I could only assume she’d sold them or traded them for money or drugs. Or hell, maybe she just threw them out to spite me. I stood in the doorway and it all came crashing down, I was back to being me.

It was months later that I finally snapped. I had to walk home from the bus stop. I didn’t have a coat anymore. No umbrella to shield me from the pelting rain. Water soaked me through to the bone, as Colleen cackled and drank with her friends. My bear, the pink bear I’d hidden, so she wouldn’t take, it sat out on the floor. His insides ripped apart. One of Colleen’s friends had brought a dog with him, and it was busy tearing apart, and gnawing on my bear.

I stared at Colleen, my body vibrating with rage. I threw down my bag and launched myself at her. She turned to me, sluggish as always, moving in slow motion, and I wanted to claw her eyes out.

“Why did you bring me back? Why did you even want me? Why couldn’t you have just let me stay?” I screamed at her as one of the guys pulled me off her and held me back.

“If I don’t get to escape this life, sweetie, you sure as hell don’t, either.” Her eyes were glassy and hollow, and she threw her head back and laughed. Laughing at me and everything she’d ever done to me. I left, my anger no longer getting the better of me. I left and ran to the one place that I knew I’d be safe again. Only that didn’t turn out the way I’d planned. It just broke me a little more.