house of {chaos} Goravich Family & Dars

There were some things that, no matter how much time passed, made my heart ache. Christmas was one of them. The fact that my Mother had now been absent to about eleven of them felt like a stab to the abdomen, but I had grown used to the pain. (Was that a bad thing?) It could have been, but I didn't think it was. My mother would have wanted me to move on with my life, grow up, be happy. I planned on doing just that, for her sake. And my father. And maybe a little for my own sake, who knew?

Snow crunched beneath the brand new pair of ugg boots Jamarion bought for me. (I was fairly certain he had gotten some help from Lyana.) I didn't care, honestly. I liked them. A lot. They were an eggshell white, and the fur that topped them was as white as the snow that surrounded them, specked with an occasional brown freckle. My hands refused to thaw, even as they were shoved under my arms inside the heavy red over coat I wore so that they could be wrapped up in the white sweater I wore underneath. My nose was red, and ached from the cold, and my eyes were still a bit puffy from the tears I had allowed myself to shed when I woke this morning. I might have been used to the pain, but it still hurt. I had decided to pull my hair up in a simple, straight ponytail, and the blond mane danced in the air as I quickly trudged on, eager to get inside Jamarion's home, where it was always warm, and had recently taken up the smell of ginger and pumpkin. Klaus's work, I believed.

When I finally arrived, I had to take a moment to look at the place, which was always a breath taking sight. Gigantic, it's roof covered in delicate flakes of snow, and warmth and life radiating from it's windows. I couldn't stop myself from smiling, maybe it was because I felt a sense of family here, when there wasn't one in my own home. What I would have done for family dinners filled with laughter, or early mornings that were interrupted by arguing siblings, or even fighting over who got the last cookie from the jar, but I didn't have it. None of it. I had my father, so tired of life and busy living in the past that it was basically the same as living alone, and my cat, Buckle, who, until Jamarion had come along, was the only friend I had.

Sad, I know.

He quietly followed behind me then, his blue eyes sparkling in the bright world around him, and I could tell he was upset that I had forced him out into the cold where he had no yarn to play with and no food bowl to sleep in. He was a strange creature, and I had decided that if he were a person he would have been the biggest bitch anyone had ever met, but I loved the little guy. I knocked on the door with the side of my hand, my hand still clenched shut and my fingers begging me for warmth. Immediately I was greeted with fiery hair and storm cloud eyes. "Marina," I said, my tone even but icy like the frozen world I stood in. She didn't like me. I had no idea why, but Marina had always had it out for me. Maybe it was because I was prettier than her.

"Jamarion, your whore’s here!"

The words bit into my flesh like the stinging cold winds, and I smiled as she moved out of my way. I stepped in, my face inches from her own, the same smile plastered on my lips. "Good to see you, too, bitch." I didn't waste any time pulling my coat off and scooping Buckle up. I glanced back at the girl, the same ugly snarl she usually kept painted on that rounded face of her's. It was hard to believe she was my age, and even harder to believe she was Jamarion's age. If you put the two of them next to one another, you would have never guessed they were born only minutes apart from each other. Those broad shoulders of his, those long legs, he had been the size of well fit man for years now, and Marina could have passed for a thirteen year old, if you asked me.

Lyana was there in a hurry, her face warm and and clear. Like always, she was frantic. She had taken on the role of being the mother of the home, really, never leaving the house and keeping her siblings in check. I gave her a quick and easy hug, because she was probably my favorite of Jamar's siblings, even if we had gotten off to a rocky start. Then again, I had gotten off to a rocky start with all of them, Jamarion included. I remembered our first meeting, and my attempts to kick his ass all of a sudden made me want to laugh. We had grown so much since then, all of us. (Except Marina, of course.) For a moment, I thought Lyana was talknig to me, but her gaze was behind me, and I turned to find Hopper, his dark eyes and cheeky grin making me smile. "Hey!" I said, waving and wrapping an arm around him. I nodded to Lyana as she declared Jamarion was somewhere within the home. Probably his room. "I'll go find him," I decided.

I climbed up the stairs, instinctively biting my lip and watching my feet. Buckle didn't seem to like it, and felt his claws dig into my arm, but I only spatted him for being such a drama king. "Jamar?" I said out loud, my voiced echoing throughout the house. When the gigantic figure revealed itself at the top of the stairs I smiled. Jamarion Goravich. The only boy who I had ever kissed. The only boy that I had ever wanted to push off a cliff, but then run to the bottom and catch him. The boy that had my entire heart. When I reached him, I let Buckle down, and he quickly strolled away. Probably to Jamarion's closet, which was his favorite of all the rooms in the entire place, and turned back to him. "Merry Christmas!" I cheered, my arms wrapping themselves around him and my head resting on his chest. I liked the sound of his heart, so steady and always calm. It made me relax when I was worked up, even when it was him that usually made me that way in the first place. My father said that he knew exactly what I meant, that he and my mother were that way once.

He said it was called love.

I, I'll never be that girl again
no, I will never be that girl again, oh
my innocence is wearing thin but
my heart is growing strong