Liv
Liv, like every other child, had always loved fairy tales. She was no different in this. It was no wonder that she grew up with her stepfather and saw her mother only occasionally. The only thing that made her strange was that whenever she spent time with her mother, she didn't play with her dolls, comb her hair, and read her bedtime stories, as other mothers did. No, her mother had been raising Liv since she was a child so that she could take care of herself, to be able to pursue her goal, to be able to defend herself if someone hurt her. Their whole family tended to shy away from people, and this aroused the distrust of them in Liv, which she had carried with her all her life, and she had never found anyone close to her whom she could trust.
So far, Mom has spent every Christmas with them, but these were the exception, so Liv remembered them more vividly than the others. She remembered sitting at the window most of the day, eagerly gluing her little chubby face to the glass until it was cold and her hot breath caught on the glass. She waited for her mother to return from work. Then they will have dinner together and she will ask what is new and what she is working on. And she smiles, pinches her nose, and tells her it's time to sleep, or Santa won't come the next day.
What a disappointment awaited her when her stepfather called her tenderly and asked her if she would help him prepare Christmas dinner. His mother had always helped him with that, so Liv thought she was probably big enough and handy now that they could also give her a task. When mom comes, she will have a surprise. She didn't realize at the time that it might mean Mom wouldn't come. Sure, she was often alone with her father for many weeks, and Mom only showed up once in a while, but she always, always came for Christmas.
"We still have to wait for Mom," Liv said importantly as they prepared the table. Dad raised his brown eyes to her and smiled a little sadly at her. And she didn't understand. "Why did you only take two plates? There are three of us," she objected incomprehensibly.
"Honey, Mom's not coming today. She has to stay at work," he replied, looking down quickly so he wouldn't have to face her shocked expression and the betrayal that flashed in her eyes.
"But why," she managed one thing, and when Dad didn't answer her, she frowned, and then she didn't say a word all evening, even when he wished her good taste. Today, however, she had no appetite for food at all, and her gaze kept flying at the empty chair her mother had always sat on as if she hoped she would show up there at any moment and tell her that she had ended it at work and that she would be with them. That she could not miss Christmas.
As she lay in bed that evening, staring sadly out the window at which the snow was slowly falling, she felt an indescribable betrayal in her heart. She never forgave her mother that evening, and even though she was a very happy and cuddly child, something broke in her back then. She had closed herself since that evening and never wanted to let the world know how she was feeling. Her mom promised to come for Christmas. And she broke that promise. And when she came home in a few weeks, she didn't even apologize. Liv experienced one of her biggest disappointments. That evening, she dreamed of the situation she wished she had become. But she knew in her soul that it would never happen.
She would lie in bed, curled up to her chin. Mom would come to her room, sit on the edge of the bed, and caress her hair lovingly. Then she would bend down and give her a kiss on the forehead. And she would tell her she loved her.
Liv always came back to this image when she was sad. During that time, she created a whole range of situations that she wanted to happen, and to which she ran when she was at her worst, and where she could vent her feelings.
Liv returned to this notion even as an adult. That was when she longed for a normal family, at least for a moment. To have a mother who loves her and is not afraid to let her know that. Of course, Liv, too, believed that love was stupid. But something inside her still wished she could feel that motherly love, at least for a while.
When Liv grew up, she realized that she had lived her whole life a bit like Rapunzel. She was closed, practically not in contact with people. And her mother was like a fake Gothel, and she only came when it suited her.
Liv smirked at the photo of her as a child. It was their only photo together. "You've always been a raven mother, haven't you?" She said softly to her. And then she pulled out a lighter, clicked it, and lit a corner of the photo.