David was, to put it quite simply, stuck.

He had been giddy over the idea, only clearly, he hadn’t thought it through. He had been too lost in imagining his daughter’s sleepy, face-splitting grin as he shrugged on the heavy red fur coat, the buttons of which hardly held the coat together as it strained against his belly. He had looped the strap of the scratchy white beard over his ears before pulling the hat on to conceal it, and when he turned to look at himself in the dresser mirror, he was pleased; he thought he made a passable Santa—for a five year old, at least.

He had assured his wife that he would be fine.

He had been proven wrong.

David wasn’t even completely sure what had happened. Getting into the chimney had started out fine—uncomfortable, yes, but fine. Now, it felt like his coat had snagged on something, maybe, but maybe it was that his stomach was also lodged against the wall. If he could only inch himself down, slowly, he may go back to being fine, but the brick was rubbing his hands raw, and every time he tried to shift his feet, he lost his footing, his feet swinging underneath him in a way that brought back his childhood fear of carnival rides.

He squeezed his burning eyes shut as sweat droplets rolled into them, the heat under the coat, the hat, the beard. His palms were stinging, blood welling through the raw, reddened skin. Every breath he pulled seemed more and more shallow. And his–

No. That wasn’t his stomach growling.

David peered down as well as he could, to see exactly what he was expecting, but his heart sunk regardless as he saw that familiar slobbering mouthful of bared teeth.

“Ryder,” he hissed. “Ryder. Go.”

He couldn’t seem to pull in a deep enough breath, and he was starting to almost hyperventilate. The anxious pounding of his heart sure wasn’t helping, either, as the family dog continued to growl, and let out a low bark.

“Shhh, shh, shh. Ryder.”

If the stupid dog started barking, then his wife would wake up too early, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but then Emilia was bound to wake up, too. That smile that he had pictured turned into a heartbreaking frown in his mind as she realized that not only was Santa not real, but that her daddy was an idiot who had gotten himself stuck in the fireplace, and, most likely, sent to the hospital on Christmas day, ruining everything.

He had to get out of here, dammit.

He sucked in his gut as much as he could, gritted his teeth, and stretched his right foot down as far as possible, searching for another brick that jutted out enough for him to step down onto. 

Got it.

Keeping his left foot planted on a higher brick, he let himself slide slowly onto the next brick. He swore under his breath as his palms scraped against the surface, becoming slick with blood. He let out a heavy breath as he landed, black spots inching into the edges of his vision. Ryder let out another low growling bark from below him—if the damn dog would just move, David thought, as much as it would hurt, he could potentially wriggle himself down the rest of the way, take a shower before anyone else woke up, and no one would be any the wiser to his failed plan.

If he didn’t pass out before then.

“Ryder, go,” David hissed, rubbing his sleeve across his forehead, though the scratchy coat didn’t help much. “Bad dog. Go.”

A growl came in return, followed by the sound of logs shifting.

David ignored it, stretching his other foot down, but as he did, he lost his footing. Swearing, he scrambled for something to clutch on to, his hands burning, his coat riding up and the pale, hair-covered skin of his stomach tearing. His chest was tight, aching with the need for a deep breath of fresh air, but just as his stomach stopped falling, thinking he had himself balanced, he heard it again: the shifting of logs, the growl–

Followed by the most excruciating pain he had ever felt in his ankle—the kind of pain that traveled up his entire body, that forced his eyes shut, and let those dancing black spots take over.

–

When Emilia snuck out of bed, she focused on being as quiet as possible.

She looked down at her feet the entire way down the darkened hallway. As soon as she entered the living room, her attention was taken by the piles of presents under the Christmas tree, her smile illuminated by the glow of the multi-colored lights, or maybe, she would have noticed Ryder curled in the room’s corner, his maw bloody.

Emilia dropped to her knees in front of the tree, eagerly turning a wrapped box in labeled From Santa in her small hands. So eagerly, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the droplets of blood splattering on the cold Yule log.