Don't Go.

A Christmas Story, as promised.

Admittedly rushed, and perhaps poorly written. Just a little idea I had that I guess I didn't execute so well.

But I promised you a Christmas Story, so here it is....

I watched her trod out in the snow from the window in my bedroom, I didn't have it in me to stop her.

Her suitcase rolled along awkwardly behind her after it had been hurridly packed.

I cried gently, and dabbed my eyes with the curtains. There's nothing worse than watching someone you love walk away.

She got in the taxi and offered me a spiteful gaze as she drove off down the street and out of my life.

I knew there and then that I would be alone that Christmas. And for some reason not even Santa came that year.

Now, when a boy loses his mother, his future often goes to the dogs. But I promised myself that I'd make it.

On my own.

Luckily Social Services never came for me, it seemed I was just swept under the rug. I payed the rent myself, with a part-time job I acquired, and for now I was getting by.

Soon though, balancing school and a job became just too much for me to handle. So I just stopped going to School.

Nobody seemed to stop me from doing so, and my boss never questioned why a 14 year old was asking for more houses to deliver papers to during School hours.

A ghost was what I had became, drifting through each and every day as if it meant nothing.

Before I knew it it had become a year since my mother left me. Snow had started falling again and the loneliness kicked in.

Why didn't I just hand myself over to Social Services? Why was I making this so hard on myself?

Looking back, I think I just felt that I had let my mother down and deserved to suffer.

Santa didn't come again that year, and I spent Christmas in bed eating Baked Beans and reading one of the papers I delivered.

I was pathetic.

Some nights I just stared at the ceiling, it seemed to be turning into an abyss.

I was descending into madness, I needed a friend.

And eventually I got one, Rick. He started co-renting the appartment come the new year as I could no longer afford to pay for it myself.

He knew I was only 15, but he never questioned why I lived alone. Which was good, I think?

He just became a pal, he kept me going, kept me company, got me laughing again.

Soon I even started seeing him as a father figure.

Yes, things were at last looking up for me. Until I caught him clearing out his room. He said that was it, said he needed a change of environment, told me he wasn't my father and he couldn't put up with being treated like it any longer.

So he left. And I didn't put up a fight. I just watched him go like I had with my Mother.

I felt bad for acting too much like his son. I deserved to be alone.

And so the year went by, and I resumed my descent into madness.

Christmas after Christmas after Christmas went by, until eventually I was 22.

I now delivered papers in a van, I was a man.

A lonely man.

That was, until I met a girl.

At the pub, whilst drowning my sorrows, she offered me sympathy. And sympathy soon turned into romance.

Susan was her name.

We became so close. She was my everything, she was all I had.

I always made sure to tell her I loved her, but never heard those 3 magic words back from her.

But I just went with the flow, it's not like I'd ever heard them throughout my time on earth anyway.

We spent a couple of years together, and just the one Christmas.

But what a magical day it was. I had turkey, a tree, presents.... It was paradise.

But... soon my love alone became not enough and I found myself sitting by that window again.

She was gone. Two became one. And I was back with me myself and I.

It wasn't long before I found some of her clothes she had left behind. I hung them on my wall, often smelling them or rubbing myself against them.

They were all I had left of her. And I soon found myself wearing the wretched things.

I would put on some of her make-up, and dance around in front of the mirror. When I wore those dresses, I felt like I still had someone.

Sometimes I would even find myself kissing the mirror me. She looked so good.

Eventually though, I just let the dresses go. I had moved on. Not from Susan, but from my alter-ego.

I even watched the bin-men collect the dresses and take them away from my goodbye window. I shed a tear as always, but life went on.

Infact, my very existence was proof that life goes on. I had watched all 5 of the people I had ever cared for walk out of my life. But I was still alive.

And now I guess it's time to tell you about the 5th person I watched walk out of my life.

But this happened back when I was 13, the Christmas before my Mother left me.

My father was a dodgy bloke, your average boozer/drug addict. He didn't care much for me and yep, he just up and left that Christmas after I asked why Santa hadn't come.

My mother never feared to tell me it was my fault he had left, and as you know she walked out herself the very next year.

So there you have it.

That's my life, it's all flashed before my eyes. And that means it's now time to die.

Wind blowing through my hair, traffic going by, I'm on the edge of a bridge now. I have watched everyone I have ever loved walk out of my life and never once did I object, never once did I say those two little words....

"Don't Go."

What was that? I hear screaming.

"Don't Go!"

I feel a presence, hands on my shoulders, more screaming...

"Don't do it!"

I'm dizzy. I'm supposed to die now, is someone stopping me?

"Stay with me!"

I'm turning around now, who is this?

"Don't..."

Those eyes, I never thought I'd see those eyes ever again.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you son, but don't do it, please don't go!"

"Mother?"

Embraced in a hug, and in a daze. She speaks some more...

"I love you."

I hold her closer, "Don't ever let go."

"I won't. Merry Christmas, Gabriel."