You were alone.

You were afraid.

You didn't know where you were

Or how you got here

You didn't want to be here

The voices outside were unkind

They yelled, they screamed, they spoke about you like you were... a toy

Only a few hours ago, things were just fine. Now you're here, in this wooden box, a few holes carelessly punched so you wouldn't suffocate, not that it'd be a worse fate than what might happen to you.

Suddenly

BANG BANG BANG

following the loud noises, the voices nearby you stopped, followed by two silent clicking noises and hushed whispers as they began to step away from your box. Shouting echoed in the distance as louder noises followed, screams and roars.

You could hear the two men's breaths shaking with anticipation.

Suddenly, there was a shattering of glass. The two voices let out a whelp as two deafening bangs followed.

There was silence for a moment, then the sound of spilling glass on the floor echoed through the room as slow and heavy footsteps approached the box.

There was a snapping noise for a moment before a blade cut into the topside of the box, leveraging the lid off

Looking down at you was the most ragged man you'd seen, his face was covered in various scars, his face unshaven, and splatters of red upon his chin, yet his eyes did not match his face; they were soft and kind, of a warm and gentle forest green. A reassuring smile upon his face.

The man spoke, his voice gruff and rough, almost like a smoker's

"Heya Kid, let's get you outta here."

The man made a movement, and the blade you had previously seen cut one of the edges, letting the sides fall

Now that you could see the man, you could tell that his face matched the rest of his body, his clothes were equally ragged, torn, and bloodied, the red and white scarf hanging loosely from his neck, his trench coat, and his grey apparel. In his hand was a Bolt-Action rifle, a gleaming bayonet, filtered by red, resting on the underbarrel

"After all, no kid should spend Christmas afraid."