Free Dying for Christmas by Tammy Cohen

silver box from my hands. He held it on his palm and stroked a finger around the rim of the lid.
    ‘One time I woke up,’ he said, as I watched his finger going around, ‘and she was lying on top of me, pressing every part of her body into mine – arms against arms, legs against legs, cheek against cheek. “I love you so much,” she told me. She didn’t seem to notice that she was crushing me half to death – she was what you’d call a larger lady, my mother. “I want you to wear me all over you, like skin.”’
    That’s when it all came rushing to the surface. Before I knew it, my mouth was full of lumps of undigested turkey. Jumping to my feet, I ran for the bathroom. I made it just in time.
    * * *
    As soon as she turned her key in the lock, she knew they’d gone. There was no muted sound of the television coming from the living room, no buzz of tension in the air of the hallway, that exquisite sense of breath being held for fear of waking sleeping children. Just emptiness.
    Kim crept up the stairs anyway, out of sheer force of habit. The first door on the right had a big red heart on it made out of crushed tissue paper and a ceramic plaque with Katy spelled out in flowery letters. Kim felt a jolt of hope when she saw it was ajar – Katy always insisted it was kept ajar at night and the landing light left on. She liked to hear other people in the house. But when Kim nudged it open, the flowery curtains were apart, the white princess bed with its netted canopy, empty. There were a few items of clothing strewn over the carpet as if someone had packed in a hurry. Kim’s heart turned over at the sight of a flowery T-shirt, heartbreakingly small. No sign of any of this morning’s Christmas presents or the old battered panda Katy had had since birth.
    Kim picked up the T-shirt from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed with it pressed to her nose. Was this how Jessica Gold’s mother felt? she wondered. This chasm opening up inside you where your organs should be? At least she knew where Katy was. That was something.
    Wasn’t it?

Chapter Thirteen
    The sun streamed in through the bank of windows, and even without being able to see the river itself I could sense it through the ripples of light reflecting on the walls, like LED lights on the ceilings of the clubs I’d occasionally let myself be dragged to at university, only to spend the hours bobbing awkwardly on the edge of the dance floor, nursing a lukewarm drink in a plastic cup, my cheeks aching from the effort of trying to smile. From my stool by the kitchen island, I fought back a wild impulse to hurl myself across the room on to the sun-splashed floorboards. After almost two days here I craved light.
    Dominic glanced up from slathering butter on to a pile of warm croissants and saw me looking.
    ‘Maybe we can go outside today.’
    My spirits leapt. ‘Where would we go?’ I tried to keep my voice neutral, not wanting to betray the extent of my longing.
    The dimple appeared again. Funny how quickly I’d come to dread seeing it.
    ‘ Silly Jessica Gold, you didn’t think I meant out of the building, did you? And spoil this lovely intimacy we’re building up? No, I just meant out on to the balcony. To get some sunlight on your skin. You’re looking a bit pale, sweetheart. But first, brekkie.’
    He put the plate of croissants down in front of me and I pulled one apart. Its insides were translucent in places with grease. I counted the croissants. Five.
    I started eating.
    I continued eating, even when he handcuffed my left wrist to the retro school-style radiator near to the dining table while he went to the bathroom. Dominic’s desire to be fully known did not extend to matters of his own personal hygiene. So while it was OK for him to watch me on the toilet, when it came to his own calls of nature he would excuse himself with a coy prudishness.
    I wanted to go outside so intensely it hurt. So I ate my way right through the wall of revulsion that