The Life of the Campbells'

-Molly- 

I am running through the forest, branches crunching under my feet, air pumping in and out of my lungs. A little light peeks through the green and I can already smell the running water. My brother is at school; where I should be. My father is always telling me how I can never live without him. He wouldn't know; he always abuses me and my family. My mother and brother are my inspiration and I needs to do this for them as well as myself. 

I crash past a few trees and bushes just as my worst nightmare behind me stomps loudly through dead leaves and forest debris.  

"Molly Rae Cambell! Get yourself back to that house this instant!" His voice booms through the greenery as he trudges closer and closer. BANG!  

Is he shooting at me?! The light in front of me grows brighter and closer. I am going to do it; I am going to jump.  

"Molly! You come now or you will get the beatin' of your life!" I burst through the last of the thick vegetation, and stand at the cliff I visit everyday. I peek over the waterfall and hear the fresh water hitting the rocks. My father's footsteps creep closer and I squeeze my eyes shut. Without a second thought, I leap off the edge and hit the water with a giant splash.

-Lisa- 

"Mama, where's Sissy?" Buster asks as he enters the small building that is his home. 

"Molly is gone, baby." Lisa whispers, trying her best not to cry, but she knows why Molly, her baby girl, left that house. Molly couldn't bear to live in an abusive house any longer.  

"Do you think that Sissy will come back?" Buster asks as he slumps down into a chair at the dining room table. 

"I don't know, sweetheart, I don't know." Lisa replies silently. Just as Lisa puts the last of the dishes up, Harold barges in with his rifle in his hand, the pungent stench of alcohol fermenting from his breath and clothing.  

"Lisa, that brat jumped the cliff. She is more than dead." Harold stomps into the kitchen, trailing mud boot prints after him, and spots a clean table with nothing edible waiting for him. "How many times," he starts trying to stay calm, "do I have to TELL YOU THAT 7:00 IS SUPPER TIME!?" Harold hollers. He trudges over to the sink where Lisa stands firmly and slaps her across the face harshly. His hand repeatedly whips her cheek until the hand disappears and snatches her hair up and throws her across the room.  

"Mama! Mama!" Buster screams. He runs over to his mother as fast as he could with his stubby, little legs, but Harold grabs his shirt and tosses him like a bone to beasts into the single bedroom, locking him in. The giant man turns back to his first victim, grabs the horse whip that was to his left, and shuffles lazily over to his terrified wife.  

Lisa tries to crawl for the bedroom to comfort her son, but Harold grips her ankle tightly and snatches her back. Tears streak down her cheeks; screams escape her chapped lips, knowing what is to happen. 

"This better be the last time you disobey me." Harold whispers in her ear. The whip raises it's long neck up, then strikes down, licking her back. Lisa's screams threaten to escape, but her strength wasn't up yet. Patches of scabs are ripping open from three days ago, revealing fragile, red flesh. The whip licks the new skin, feeling like nails scraping her back. Ten minutes passes and Harold pants, exhausted.  

"Go, girl. Get to cookin'!" Lisa slowly moves her hands underneath herself and tries to lift herself up. A foot is placed on her back, and pushes her brittle body down. Lisa's arms cave into the pressure, and falls back down. "Come on, Lisa. Get up." He pushes harder, Lisa's back screaming from the mud smearing into the fresh slashes.