Counting Down the Days for Christmas

Christmas time had finally arrived again, but that year the Fuentes' wouldn't be celebrating Christmas with the Quinn family; they were staying with Vic's aunt and uncle, or so Kellin was told.

Kellin wasn't even nearly as excited for Christmas as he would have been if Vic was there. Christmas wouldn't feel right without his Vic being there with him; not having the Fuentes' family over for Christmas at all felt weird to him.

Kellin knew that Vic didn't want to go and stay with his aunt and uncle. He would always flinch and say "Don't remind me." Whenever Kellin would remind him about it. Kellin was unaware of why Vic was so unwilling to visit his other family members; Kellin knew that he would have been ecstatic at the situation, what with his strange love for meeting new people.

This year, Kellin had been set music homework to complete over the Christmas holiday period. They had to write a song or a poem about their families to go along with the project they were doing in class. Kellin had decided to write a song, because writing a poem would have been considered 'lame' among his classmates. Besides, Kellin loved music and singing anyway.

He sat down on his bed, nibbling thoughtfully on his pen. Before long, Kellin realised that he actually knew nothing about his own family. He decided to ask his mum about them, surely she would know something.

He casually walked downstairs to the living room where his mum was sat, watching some irrelevant soap opera on the TV and drinking a mug of tea.

"Mum?" He asked her, leaning on the leather sofa arm.

She turned her head around to the sofa arm beside her where Kellin was standing. A small smile broke across her face when she saw him.

"Yes honey?" She replied, taking a small sip of her tea.

"Can you tell me a bit more about our family? We have homework to write a song about our families, but I don't really know much about them. And can I just ask something - do I have a dad? All my friends have dads but I don't think I do. Or if I do, then why isn't he here?" Kellin rambled curiously, with a small trace of nervousness in his naturally high-pitched tone.

His mum almost choked on her tea. She knew that he would ask about his dad sometime, but why did he have to ask now?

"Well honey... There isn't really an easy way to say this, but you do actually have a dad. Him and I split up when you were only three. He left a few days before your fourth birthday and I've not had any contact with him since." Mary told Kellin rather bluntly. She hated to break it to him in this way, but she couldn't think of anything that could make the situation better.

Kellin was confused and slightly annoyed. Why did his mum never tell him about his dad? He would have been okay with it then, but why had she left it so long?

"Okay mum..." He muttered quietly, before bolting upstairs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

He sat down on his bed once more, picking up a piece of paper and a pen. He put the pen to the paper, letting the lyrics flow by themselves. He knew what he would write about now.

While Kellin was sat at home on his bed writing a song, Vic was being pinned up to the wall by his throat, courtesy of his uncle.

"Listen up, fag. I will not stand for you disobeying the rules in my house again. Never again! Do you hear me, cunt?" He yelled at Vic, his spit spraying Vic's face. Vic could feel his uncle's hot breath against his skin.

"Y-yes, I understand." Vic confirmed quickly, his voice shaking a little. He was feeling terrified of the man in front of him, considering the current situation he had somehow been landed in. Vic was unaware of what he had done to anger his uncle so much, but he could tell that his final outcome wouldn't be pretty.

"Good. But I don't think I can take your word on that. I think I'll have to teach you a lesson." He snarled at Vic ferociously, shooting him an evil smile.

Vic cowered away from him in fear, having a faint idea of what his uncle meant by 'teaching him a lesson' and it was not a good idea.

Before long, Vic could feel his uncles fist collide with his cheek. Vic screamed out in pain, causing his uncle to kick him in the ribs violently.

"You worthless fag Vic!" His uncle snarled at him viciously, rewarding Vic with another slap to his cheek.

The tears streamed down Vic's face as he cried out in pain. His uncle walked out of the room after he'd had his fun, leaving Vic curled up in a little ball in the corner.

He picked himself up from the floor, dragging his weak body to the bathroom so he could see how much damage his uncle had caused him.

He stood in front of the mirror, peeling off his bloody shirt to reveal horrific bruises. The blood ran down the side of his face from the gash in his forehead, leaving small drops on the white tiles.

He lightly ran his hand over one of the biggest bruises on his stomach. They all looked so ugly. Vic's eyes quickly moved onto his face and it was like he had just looked at himself for the first time.

He took in the tired-looking black rings underneath his normally chocolate coloured eyes. His eyes had lost all of their emotion, they just looked empty and worn-out. He looked nothing like he had done before coming here. He looked so ugly. How would he ever be able to look at Kellin again? Kellin would be disgusted with him!

He picked up his shirt with shaking hands, pulling it over his head. He couldn't bear to look at himself anymore.

He hobbled out of the bathroom and the bedroom that he was staying in. He slumped onto the bed in both exhaustion and defeat, burying his head in the pillow.

He could feel the dried tears that stained his cheeks, despite the fact that he had stopped crying. He had no tears left to cry anymore.

He slowly sat up, pulling his knees up to his chin. He sat quietly on his bed, contemplating the whole situation. It wasn't as if that was the first time his uncle had hit him - no, it had happened before.

He wasn't sure what it was about this time that was so bad; maybe the beatings were worse than usual. Maybe it was because of his uncle's words, as they were particularly harsh this time. Maybe it was a mixture of all these things combined, Vic would never know.

Kellin was laying on his bed at home, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. He studied the messy scrawls on the piece of paper that were his song.

He stood up and ran downstairs, bringing the lyrics with him. He was going to get his mum's feedback.

He jogged into the living room where his mum was still sat. She looked up at him quizzically, wondering what her son wanted.

"Mum, can you give me some feedback on my song? I just need to see if it's okay..." Kellin asked her awkwardly and somewhat shyly. He had never sang in front of his mum before so he was bound to be a little bit nervous.

"Go on then," Mary told her son kindly. She had heard great things about her son's musical talent from his teachers, so she was quite willing to hear it for herself.

Kellin could feel his palms start to sweat nervously. He clutched onto the sheet with a tight grip, telling himself that it was now or never. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes and allowed himself to begin the song.

"Father, Father, tell me where have you been? It's been hell not having you here..."

"Vic! Time for dinner!" Vic could hear his aunt shouting from downstairs. He groaned, rubbing his eyes fiercely. He must have fallen asleep.

He yawned, before heaving himself up and stretching. He started to make his way downstairs slowly, feeling painfully aware of his facial bruises.

He pushed open the door that lead towards the kitchen, cautiously making his way over to the dinner table. He sat down, looking down at his dinner plate. He had a full roast dinner, with steaming hot potatoes and tender slices of pork. The golden Yorkshire puddings sat in the corner of his plate, with gravy trickling down them, just the way he liked it.

Altogether, the meal looked delicious, but Vic just wasn't hungry.

His aunt made her way towards the table, bringing over her own dinner plate and sitting down on a chair opposite Vic.

"Hi Vic," She beamed, before taking a closer look at her nephew. She saw the ugly purple bruises that littered his face and the gash that was already starting to scab on his forehead.

"What happened to you? Who gave you those bruises?" She asked him anxiously.

Vic appreciated her concern, but he didn't want to worry her anymore than she already was.

"Don't worry, it's fine. Happened a while ago anyway so you don't need to worry." He told her, lying through his teeth, before beginning to cut up his food. He didn't want to cause a fuss over something as worthless as himself.

"Are you sure? They look pretty nasty." His aunt spoke softly, taking a bite of her potato. She was just worried about Vic - who would have given such a sweet, innocent boy such nasty bruises?

He just nodded at her comment, tucking into his dinner, not wanting her to keep pressing the matter.

Thankfully, his aunt dropped the conversation, figuring that if it was really hurting him then he would have said. The rest of dinner was spent in silence, which Vic was grateful for.

Later that night, when Vic was attempting to sleep, he remembered that today was Christmas. Christmas had completely slipped his mind, courtesy to all the drama that had happened that day.

He sighed, before muttering "Merry Christmas Vic," to himself and finally dropping off to sleep.