Christmas Dinner - a short story by Berni Albrighton

 “Dinner is in one hour. Get washed, put this on. And do something about your hair, you look a mess”

Her eyes were struggling with the light.

He was wearing a Christmas jumper, that's all she could make out before he left, locking the door behind him.

She followed his orders and when finished, looked in the small broken mirror.

The obligatory red lipstick looked hideous against her pale skin.

The bruising was barely visible.

She felt pain throughout her body, and her bones, ancient under her young skin, jutted out as a reminder.

The door opened and he led her to the dining room.

Small framed images of young women hung from an overloaded Christmas tree. 

Their eyes followed her.

“Stay alive” they silently pleaded.

A perfectly cooked Turkey took centreplace on a table which was set for two. 

He looked at her in disgust.

“You’re a fucking mess” 

He walked out muttering angrily.

When he returned with more food, she moved quickly from behind the door, stabbing him in the neck. 

She walked calmly back to her place at the table.

Wiping the knife on the reindeer patterned napkins, she carved the turkey and ate.