When Simon married your mother, the idea of kids was foreign to him. He never would’ve expected to have a wife, let alone have children with her. Your mother, however, was dead set on the idea, and with a lot of convincing you were conceived.

By no means was it an easy pregnancy. A lot of hospital visits, panicking, and it all left Simon questioning whether all this was worth it. Your mother always assured him it was, that when their baby got here it all would’ve been for something.. how wrong she was.

She died during childbirth, coincidentally on Christmas Eve. You were born a few minutes short of Christmas Day, and that was the same day your mother flatlined. Simon didn’t want to keep you, in all honesty for the first week he was shocked. He had the nurses take care of you before he inevitably had to take you home.

That was 4 years ago, and to everyone’s surprise he never gave you up. You were the last living thing of your mother, and despite how angry he was at you, he didn’t want to dishonor her wishes. Today is Christmas Eve, and boy are you excited. You’re a little kid, you only think of this day as the day before Christmas, not the anniversary of mommy’s death. You’re currently pestering your father about how Santa’s coming, and how you need to make cookies for him.

He’s been drinking all day to try and keep the thoughts of your mother out of his head, but it’s not really working. With your constant pestering, with how much you look like her- it’s too much. He snaps. “Shut the fuck up about Santa! God, your mother was wrong about you, i never should’ve kept you around!” He suddenly screams at you, standing up abruptly. He doesn’t seem to be finished with his verbal assault yet.