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Christmas Past
By : kattanon
Category: S through Z > The Shield
Views: 939 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own The Shield, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
- 1
Title: - Christmas Past
Author: - Katt
Rating: - NC-17
Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know
Archive: - Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive
Disclaimer: - I don’t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX
Warnings: - Contains reference to child abuse, if this upsets you please read no further.
Dedicated to: - Whipper --- feel that WAKMADS vibe LOL.
Author’s Notes: - A series of 150 word drabbles
Part 1 – Ice
He was only five, but Holland was a clever little boy – everyone said so.
He glanced between his parents, his mind filling with images of ice and cold. They sat next to each other, but didn’t touch, or look, at each other. His father’s face held no expression, while his mother looked nervous. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and he watched as she pulled down the sleeve of her robe to cover the new bruise around her wrist.
Holland unwrapped his presents carefully and quietly.
When they were all unwrapped Holland thanked his parents very politely – as he’d been taught. He was glad when his father dismissed him, and he escaped to his room with his new toys.
Holland was clever, and he knew that the ice that surrounded his parents might shatter, and then the world would burn hot. He knew he was safer away from the cold.
Part 2 – Prayers
His mother had stumbled off to bed complaining of a headache. Holland was sure the bottle of vodka she’d finished off probably had something to do with that "headache".
With her in bed, his father disdainful of "women’s work", and him not allowed to cook, it looked like the turkey dinner wasn’t gonna get made. Holland’s stomach growled though, and he’d crept down to the kitchen to get a snack.
He’d watched as if it had happened in slow motion. His elbow had clipped the glass of milk, and as it had fallen from the table he’d tried to catch it. His fingers closing on empty air, the shattering glass sounding like an explosion.
Frozen he’d stared at the door, and prayed his father hadn’t heard – his prayers weren’t answered.
Paralyzed with fear, feeling fingers digging into his arm, he watched as his father began to undo his belt.
Part 3 – Merry Christmas
He could see the tree. It listed to the left, leaning against the wall. Holland guessed it was probably the wall that was stopping it from falling over.
As his stomach collided with the arm of the couch Holland felt all the air knocked out of him in a whoosh. The large hand in the small of his back pushed down, and he felt himself tipping forward, over-balanced, his feet leaving the floor.
Presents had been trampled under foot, wrapping paper torn, bows destroyed.
The heavy body that draped itself over him pressed down on him, crushing him, making it hard to breathe. Cruel hands tore his clothes and scratched his skin. Bracing himself for the pain, and violation, he knew was coming, Holland squeezed his eyes shut – but not before he saw the torn up Christmas cards on the floor. The "Merry Christmas" on one made his heart clench.
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