Chapter 1 THE GIRL WHO HATES CHRISTMAS
Amara’s POV
The banging started before my eyes even opened.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
At first I thought it was a dream, but then I heard it clearly. My neighbor’s Christmas music blasting through the wall again. Loud, cheerful, and full of fake joy that made my stomach twist. I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head, but the blanket did nothing. It was thin and cold, just like the rest of my life.
The cold bit at my face. My room felt like a giant freezer. I could see my own breath in the air as I sat up. My fingers were stiff. My toes hurt. The heating in my building had stopped working six days ago, and my landlord still hadn’t fixed it. He wanted rent before he did anything, but rent was the problem.
My phone buzzed beside me. I reached for it and almost dropped it because my hands were shaking. When the screen lit up, my chest tightened.
Seventeen missed calls.
All from my landlord.
My rent was three days late. I already knew what he wanted to say. Pay now or get out. But I didn’t have the money. Not today. Maybe not ever.
I swallowed hard and turned my head. On the small table by my bed, I saw the only picture I owned of my parents. The frame was cracked. The colors faded. But there they were. Smiling. Holding me between them. A Christmas tree behind us.
I picked up the photo. My hands shook. Every year, around this time, I did the same thing.
I flipped it face down.
The same three words came out of my mouth without me even thinking.
"I hate Christmas."
I said it softly at first. Then louder. Like it was a shield I had to put on before I could step outside.
I swung my legs off the bed and got dressed quickly. My clothes smelled a little like yesterday’s diner grease, but at least they were warm. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. I didn’t have time or money for breakfast.
Another blast of Christmas music hit the wall.
"Turn it down," I muttered, even though I knew they couldn’t hear me. They never did. People were always too wrapped up in their own joy to notice me.
I grabbed my bag and rushed out. The hallway was freezing too, but at least it was quiet. My shoes squeaked slightly as I hurried down the stairs. I checked the time. If I moved fast, I wouldn’t be late to the diner.
I pushed open the front door of the building. Cold wind slapped me in the face. Christmas lights were everywhere, glowing and blinking like they were mocking me. People on the sidewalk smiled, holding gift bags and cups of hot chocolate. Their joy felt like a punch to my chest.
They didn’t know what today was for me. They didn’t know what tomorrow meant. They didn’t know I wished this whole season would disappear.
The bus ride to Queens felt long. At every stop I saw something that made me want to cry. Little kids laughing in bright coats. Couples carrying matching gifts. Friends taking pictures in front of decorations.
I looked away from all of it.
When the bus dropped me near the diner, my heart started pounding. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the missed calls. Maybe it was how cold the air felt. Maybe it was fear that today was going to be worse than usual.
I pushed open the diner door. The bell above it jingled loudly.
The warm air inside hit me, and for a second it felt nice. Ivy was behind the counter, her usual bright smile already on her face. She waved at me with both hands.
"Amara," she said, "finally! I was hoping you would get here before the rush. I saved you one of the good coffee cups."
I tried to smile back. It came out weak.
"Thanks," I said.
I stepped behind the counter, untied my apron, and reached for the coffee pot. My hands were still shaking from the cold.
"Rough morning?" Ivy asked gently.
"Same as always."
I poured the coffee, brought the cup to my lips, and took a sip. The warmth felt like a small miracle, but it didn’t fix anything.
Ivy leaned closer. "Your landlord called the diner again yesterday. He sounded mad. Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," I lied.
She looked at me with worry in her eyes, but she didn’t push. She never pushed. That was why she was the only person I could stand outside of work.
The bell above the door jingled again.
I turned my head. My heart dropped straight into my stomach.
Marcus. My boss. Standing in the doorway. His hands in his pockets. His face stiff and serious.
He never came in this early.
Ivy blinked. "Um. Why is he here?"
My mouth went dry. Marcus only showed up early if something was very wrong.
He walked up to us slowly, like he was dragging something heavy behind him. He stopped right in front of me. His eyes didn’t hold their usual annoyed look. This time, he looked almost nervous.
"Amara," he said. "We need to talk."
My grip on the coffee cup tightened. "About what?"
"Not here. Come to the back office."
The way he said it made something cold crawl up my spine. Ivy looked between us and bit her lip.
“Is everything ok?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My heart was beating too hard.
Marcus walked toward the back office without checking if I was following. I didn’t want to go. Every part of me screamed to stay where I was. But my legs moved anyway.
The hallway to the office felt darker than usual. My steps echoed. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Marcus pushed open the office door and stepped inside. I followed him in.
He didn’t sit down. He didn’t look around. He just stared right at me.
"Amara," he said slowly, "I need to talk to you about your job."
The words hit me like ice.
"My job?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"
Marcus took a deep breath. "It’s complicated."
My stomach flipped. "What do you mean? Just tell me."
He looked away for a second. His jaw tightened. Then he looked back at me.
"Amara," he said quietly, "this is going to be hard. But you need to listen before you react."
My throat tightened. "What is happening?"
He opened his mouth.
Then something happened.
A loud bang shook the office wall. Like someone had slammed into it.
Marcus jerked his head toward the sound. I froze.
Another bang. Harder. The wall rattled.
Marcus whispered, "What in the world is that?"
My heart thudded painfully. The banging grew louder. Closer.
Then a crack formed in the wall. A thin line, running from the ceiling to the floor. Like something was pushing from the other side.
I stepped back.
"Marcus," I whispered, "we need to leave."
The crack spread wider. The wall creaked. A strange cold air poured into the room, sharp and unnatural. Marcus stared, eyes wide.
"Amara," he whispered, "stay behind me."
But I couldn’t move. My legs were locked.
The wall bent inward.
Something was about to break through.
Then Marcus turned back to me with a pale face.
"Amara," he said, voice shaking, "you’re not safe."
The wall groaned, ready to split open.
And before I could ask what he meant, the entire wall burst apart with a sound like thunder.
I screamed.
And something stepped through the broken wall.
Something that knew my name.