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Killer smiles at the praise from the adults as they pat his head and tell him how handsome he is, and what a good boy he is. He doesn’t mean it, but then neither do they. They just ignore him after the courtesies, and he disappears into the background. He finds a small, quiet corner and sits perfectly still while his parents mingle with the party. He’s bored, and he’s hungry , but he knows better than to get up, and definitely not to go to the table full of snacks. His mother had made it very clear that he wasn’t to touch any of the food they laid out - it was only for guests, and they’d already had to buy him a new suit because he’d gotten taller , it wouldn’t do to have to go another size bigger , would it? So he ignores his hunger and listens to everyone chatting.
They like the new holiday portrait, at least. Killer doesn’t know how they can’t see how fake it is. His mother never smiles like that, and his father has never looked at her the way he does in the photo. Everyone sees the way his mother has her arm around him, but not the way her nails dig into his back, or the bruises around his wrists, or the lines hidden by the sleeves of his suit coat. All they see is the perfect family his parents want them to be, and he wants to scream. Instead, his throat closes up, and he stays perfectly silent, only the slight tremble of his hands giving him away. He clasps them in his lap and pastes on a smile, hoping no one else looks in his direction for the rest of the night.