I took one final look at myself in the mirror after using lipstick for the first time. I didn't do too bad of a job, I thought. I might have missed a spot or two, but it didn't look bad.
"Where is my lipstick?!" I could hear my sister angrily yelling from outside of my bedroom door.
The door swung open violently. I turned around to see my sister staring me down, a look of rage in her eyes.
"Are you serious?!" she shouted, racing toward me. I jumped to my feet and dodged her. She made a swipe for the lipstick tube in my hand but I snatched it away just in time. She began to stumble. I looked back, laughing at her as I ran. Until I felt my feet fall out from beneath me, leaving me tumbling forward, the tube of lipstick falling from my hand and onto the ground.
My sister ran past me and grabbed the tube from the ground. She started picking the hair from the lipstick, a disgusted look on her face.
"Keep your hands off my stuff!" she demanded before walking back to her room and slamming the door.
I picked myself up off my feet, dusting myself off. I went downstairs to the living room where my mom and dad were at. They were watching some Christmas show on TV, the tree twinkling in the corner of the room.
I sat down next to them. My mom wasn't a fan of the lipstick I'd plastered on my face. She chuckled a bit as she wiped it all off.
"My sister's so mean to me sometimes," I vented. "All I wanted was to look pretty and she couldn't even let me have that."
"Well, Sammy is a particular person," my mom assured me. "She doesn't mean anything by it, she just doesn't want her stuff used by anyone else. You have to respect her boundaries."
She was right. I still wasn't a fan of her though.
"I just wish she was gone," I said. Did I say that out loud?
My mom was shocked to hear me say that. She scolded me for it before sending me to my room for the night.
***
It was difficult for me to fall asleep that night. I mean, it's Christmas Eve night! Santa's supposed to be here soon. How am I not supposed to be excited?
Almost as if on cue, I heard a rustling of footsteps just outside my bedroom door. It had to be him.
I slowly and silently opened my door with a soft squeak. I crept out into the hallway and noticed my sister's bedroom door was opened. I heard a sound coming from within. What was she doing up so late?
I crept to the door, trying not to startle her. I peered inside and nearly jumped out of my skin. There was a tall, fat man in a red and white suit. He was leaning over my sister's bed, his back turned to me. I could hear what sounded like a knife being stabbed into something over and over again as the fat man raised and lowered his far hand.
Terrified, I let out a soft squeak of horror. Then, the fat man turned around to face me. His beard was long and white, safe for the splats of red in random splotches. I could see the bloody knife he wielded in his hand that hovered just above my sister's still and lifeless body.
The fat man raised a finger to his lips to shush me, and he gestured for me to go back to sleep...
"Where is my lipstick?!" I could hear my sister angrily yelling from outside of my bedroom door.
The door swung open violently. I turned around to see my sister staring me down, a look of rage in her eyes.
"Are you serious?!" she shouted, racing toward me. I jumped to my feet and dodged her. She made a swipe for the lipstick tube in my hand but I snatched it away just in time. She began to stumble. I looked back, laughing at her as I ran. Until I felt my feet fall out from beneath me, leaving me tumbling forward, the tube of lipstick falling from my hand and onto the ground.
My sister ran past me and grabbed the tube from the ground. She started picking the hair from the lipstick, a disgusted look on her face.
"Keep your hands off my stuff!" she demanded before walking back to her room and slamming the door.
I picked myself up off my feet, dusting myself off. I went downstairs to the living room where my mom and dad were at. They were watching some Christmas show on TV, the tree twinkling in the corner of the room.
I sat down next to them. My mom wasn't a fan of the lipstick I'd plastered on my face. She chuckled a bit as she wiped it all off.
"My sister's so mean to me sometimes," I vented. "All I wanted was to look pretty and she couldn't even let me have that."
"Well, Sammy is a particular person," my mom assured me. "She doesn't mean anything by it, she just doesn't want her stuff used by anyone else. You have to respect her boundaries."
She was right. I still wasn't a fan of her though.
"I just wish she was gone," I said. Did I say that out loud?
My mom was shocked to hear me say that. She scolded me for it before sending me to my room for the night.
***
It was difficult for me to fall asleep that night. I mean, it's Christmas Eve night! Santa's supposed to be here soon. How am I not supposed to be excited?
Almost as if on cue, I heard a rustling of footsteps just outside my bedroom door. It had to be him.
I slowly and silently opened my door with a soft squeak. I crept out into the hallway and noticed my sister's bedroom door was opened. I heard a sound coming from within. What was she doing up so late?
I crept to the door, trying not to startle her. I peered inside and nearly jumped out of my skin. There was a tall, fat man in a red and white suit. He was leaning over my sister's bed, his back turned to me. I could hear what sounded like a knife being stabbed into something over and over again as the fat man raised and lowered his far hand.
Terrified, I let out a soft squeak of horror. Then, the fat man turned around to face me. His beard was long and white, safe for the splats of red in random splotches. I could see the bloody knife he wielded in his hand that hovered just above my sister's still and lifeless body.
The fat man raised a finger to his lips to shush me, and he gestured for me to go back to sleep...
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