December 24th.

She had lived through this day, quite possibly, one hundred times. No, not in the cliche way you’re thinking. Some lighthearted commentary of two moms bonding over the stress of the holidays wouldn’t be appropriate to reference at this time. She was stuck, quite literally. Stuck in time. She didn’t know how or why it happened. One minute, it was December 31st and she was huddled up with her siblings, mouthing the numbers of the countdown as the crowd in New York screamed in excitement. Nothing came after 1. She had turned off the television, assuming it was either frozen or broken, and walked to bed alone, as it seemed her family had sulked off to their rooms without her. She had finally decided something was wrong when she walked downstairs the next morning and found the Christmas tree they had taken down days ago, standing tall and proud in the corner of their living room.

Nowadays she sat, slumped on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through channels, eyes wide and drained of any emotion. Same shows. Same pajamas. Same snacks to stuff her mouth with and drinks to wash them down. Same reaction from her mother. She could already feel her hand start to sting, awaiting the feeling of her mother’s delicate palm push against hers with unwarranted force. The chips made the same crunch and crack when they hit the ground, as they always did.

“Enough. Time for breakfast,” her mother let out in a stern tone.

“What?” her mother questioned a second later, her tone noticeably contrasting the one she just used. An expression never seen before on that repetitive day washed over her features.

“Nothing,” the girl slowly muttered in response, eyebrows raised in concern. As her mother shrugged and walked away, the girl began to giggle to herself, realizing the mystery behind her mother’s sudden moment of shock. The two of them had uttered the greeting in unison and it had caught her mother off-guard.

She nibbled through a few glazed donuts from the Krispy Kreme box her dad had, once again, came through the front door with. She frowned deeply, feeling uneasy about the fact that she now, one hundred percent, hated eating them. She attempted to calm her racing heart. At about 1:00 -which- now as she glanced at the clock to her left, was a mere seven minutes away, her and her brother would fall into a twenty minute argument that would end with hurt feelings and a sickly atmosphere. You might be wondering, “Why doesn’t she just not argue?” Trust me, she’s tried that before. It only egged her obnoxious brother on more. At a certain point, she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue any longer. She found that, with each agonizing quarrel they engaged in, her brother would grow more vulgar and cruel and she would, in turn, build her defenses up into an ever-growing wall, occasionally peaking around the corner to point, aim, and shoot. Much like she lost track of the amount of times she woke up in the same situation, she lost track of what they would argue about. She could never really remember how it would start…

“Stop talking about something you know nothing about.” Oh no, here we go. Let the games begin. Perhaps a sly comment about his failing relationship or hopeless job hunting slipped past her lips. Ok yeah, so maybe she was often the one to-

Wait what. Her head snapped up, eyes frantically searching the dinner table for the pair of voices. Panic set in as the sight before her unfolded. “Hold up, w-what’s going on? Why are you two fighting? I-no. You’re, you’re not.. Supposed.. To,” she exclaimed, rising from her seat. She sunk back down as she noticed all heads snap in her direction, four sets of scrutinizing gazes burning a hole through her head. To say her brother and sister had looked at her like she was crazy was an understatement. But she very well could have been. She certainly felt like it now.

“What a convenient time to intervene. Come on guys, let’s all watch as she shows off and tries to be a ‘better person’,” her brother sneered in disgust, after a few seconds of silence. “I swear, you’re so pathetic,” he scoffed out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The rest of the noise around her became static. It was like how in the mornings the television would occasionally cut to static like that. Except this time, she couldn’t reach over the worn couch cushions, clutch the remote in her hand, and stare back at her reflection when the screen went to black and the noise stopped numbing her senses. She didn’t even bother to tease him for actually using air quotes. It was the last thing on her mind. Because that was it. The television turned back on in her head, in vibrant colors, the way it should have done the night of New Year’s Eve. She had strived to be a better person all year. It was her New Year’s Resolution, after all. Her parents had been breathing down her and her brother, and even her sister’s neck about having one. “We want this year to be different,” they had sighed desperately, with pleading eyes. They had even bet dinner and a movie to whoever went through with theirs. A kind of bribe. For the good of the family. For fun. Something they hadn’t experienced in years.

So she was coming up short on a stupid end goal that she blurted out at the last second, one year ago or so. Fulfilling her resolution would mean she could move on to a new year.

She could try this time. It was the only way.

So she cracked a joke. A simple, clean, lame joke. More static, crickets, the works. It was the wrong move. Except that it wasn’t.

“I know what you are, but what am I?” her siblings barked in unison, sticking their tongues out. “Jinx, you owe me a coke! Jinx, jinx, jinx!” They glared at each other intensely.

“You guys are not a day over ten years old, I don’t believe it for a second,” her mother’s voice thundered.

“Ah-ahem,” the girl coughed out. “Don’t get me wrong, this is great and all, but do you mind if we have a serious talk?”

It took a while. A long while. They all settled down into an awkward silence. And then an awkward discussion about the past few years and the reality of their life. For a family that at times, was a little too close to be considered healthy, they discovered there were wide gaps between them where other feelings and ideas and thoughts lived. It was a healing process. The wound wasn’t closed just yet, but there were a handful of sincere apologies and explanations thrown into the mix that no one in the room would have ever imagined they’d hear in their lifetime or had even realized that they needed to hear to get through just that year. Something felt right in the air. She could say she was actually excited and hopeful for Christmas Day, if it would come this time around. Her mind had no time to catch up and create high hopes, as everything drifted away outside of the shelter of her eyelids.

“Stop. Leave me alone,” she groaned, voice muffled by her drool-stained pillow, feeling hands grip her shoulders and rock them side to side.

“But it’s Christmas! You have to get up! I swear to God if you don’t-”

She pushed herself off the bed in one not-so-swift movement and cursed, landing on the floor when her feet failed to catch her. Her brother and sister crouched over, dying of laughter, but pulled her up, having enough strength to still do so.

“This one’s for you,” her mother came into view, meeting her halfway at the bottom of the staircase. A smile that crossed her mother’s lips many times the night prior had made an appearance yet again. There was a small box placed on the girl’s palm, small enough to be swallowed whole by her closed fist. She could’ve sworn her parents had never used that wrapping paper before. And the bow seemed off with its unusual structure and color. Who could it be from? A tiny scrap of paper was taped to the inside of the lid. She frowned as she unfolded it, noticing that on one side, it gave the name of her secret santa from that year. When flipped over, unrecognizable handwriting in green and red glittery ink spelled the words “Game over. You won” in all caps.