Back to the day when my husband and sister died at Christmas

“Hey, Chloe, don’t say I never do anything for ya.”

“Last night was Christmas Eve, right? So, that gold pendant you got me, as your big sis, I gotta get you something back. And the gift….”

“You gotta come home and unwrap it yourself.”

“It's at Mom and Dad’s.”

My sister, Sarah’s, voice was buzzing through my phone, playful, even a little teasing.

“Don't say I didn't warn you, but it’s that thing you’ve always wanted but never get for yourself. You'll be stoked!”

Her voice echoed in the room, the heat from the radiator battling the chill that had settled into my bones.

I touched my skin, looking at myself in the mirror, pinching hard. The pain brought tears to my eyes.

I started to laugh, then the laugh morphed into a sob, and I hugged myself, curling up in the corner.

It took a good fifteen minutes to truly digest the fact that I had been given a second chance.

When Sarah texted again.

“Are you gonna come get it or what?!” she whined, “If you don't, I’m keeping it, don't blame me.”

I remember the last time, the first time.

It had also been Christmas Day.

My dear sister, Sarah, had blown up my phone right after my afternoon nap, telling me she had a Christmas present for me at our parent's place, and that I had to go get it myself because I needed it.

She had me hooked.

Excited, I texted her a thank you, threw on my jacket, and drove over to my family's house.

But, when I opened the front door, I wasn't met with a surprise. I was met with a group of drunken creeps, all red-faced and leering, who dragged me into the house and threw me to the floor. What followed were three hours of pure hell.

I fought, I cried, I threatened.

“My sister will be home soon! When she sees this she's gonna call the cops, and you’ll rot in jail for the rest of your lives!”

My threats only seemed to piss them off, they didn’t care. They didn't just violate my body, they burned me with cigarette butts on my chest. When I kept threatening to go to the cops, they slapped me hard, spitting out insults.

“You’re nothing but a used-up piece of trash, stop acting like you’re anything special!”

I bit my lip and struggled, believing with all my heart that Sarah would find me and get me out of there, making sure these guys would get what was coming to them.

I was so wrong.

I was assaulted for three hours, from late afternoon until dark, and no one came home. When the men were finally done with me and left, I dragged myself up, numb, pulled my clothes back on, and went home to call the police.

And that’s when I ran into Mark, my husband, my mom and Sarah, all laughing, as they were coming home.

Mark looked me up and down, at my messy hair and red marks on my skin, before asking, “What did you do?”

Seeing my family, my soul was relieved, I ran to Mark, sobbing as I told him everything, emphasizing.

“I have to call the cops!”

“They need to pay for what they did!”

I expected my husband to believe me, and I needed my mom and sister to show some sympathy for w...