The Unbiological Sisters

Chapter 2 ~ Survival and Suffering

  "What now?! Huh? I dare you to move." Damon mocked.

  Taffy stared up the barrel of the gun startled at the sight of the weapon. What had she gotten herself into? She couldn't think straight, but she knew moving would definitely be a bad idea.

  "Get up!" He said suddenly. Taffy continued to watch him, wary that he might shoot her anyway.

  "Get up!" Damon repeated more forcefully.

  This time Taffy obeyed. Damon motioned with the gun for her to move into the next room. "C'mon. Move it!"

  Besides the glaring fact that Damon had a gun pointed at her, he was also twice her size and almost twice her age. Taffy had no choice but to do what he said.

  "Damon, please, I just want to go home." Taffy pleaded.

  "Shut up. Keep walking." Damon growled and shoved her forward.

  Taffy stumbled into the kitchen where the two teens from before stared blankly at her, uncaring. They even laughed at the sight before them. Taffy looked around for any other help and her eyes latched on to the landline haning on the wall. 'Phone. Help,' flashed through her mind.

  "Hey. Keep moving." Damon said, accentuating each word and gripping Taffy's shoulder tightly.

  Instinctively Taffy sent her elbow flying back into Damon's nose. He cried out and clutched his face, stumbling backward. Taffy leaped toward the phone and pressed the first three buttons that came to mind: 947. Nothing happened.

  "No! What's the number?" Taffy shook the phone as if it could tell her the answer, but was holding out on her.

  "Yo. You broke his nose." One of the teens said from next to Damon.

  Taffy turned to see Damon on the floor glaring at her while his now bloody hand still clutched his nose.

  "You little bitch!" He growled and shoved the other teen, trying to use the kid's body to get up. Damon paused to search for the gun. Taffy noticed it under the table at the same time Damon did. She turned and ran into the next room, dialing another three digit number: 976. 

  Again nothing happened.

  "Why can't I remember a stupid emergency number?!" Taffy said, frustrated with herself.

  "Taffy!" Damon's voice boomed.

  Taffy escaped into one of the bedrooms and slammed the door shut. She braced herself against the door since there was no lock, knowing that her slim, frail body would be no match for whatever tried to come through the door.

  "Nine...nine...nine what?!" Taffy hissed at herself. Suddenly she punched in 911 as she remembered it. The phone rang twice.

  "911, where's your emergency?" Came a soft sweet voice.

  "I need help. He won't let me leave. He's got a gun." Taffy burst in relief.

  "Okay, calm down miss. What's your location?"

  Taffy tried to remember where she was and how she got here. "I--I can't remember. Some house--" Taffy screamed as Damon pounded his fists on the door.

  "Open the fucking door, Taffy!"

  "Miss?" The lady on the phone called.

  "Please help!" Taffy sobbed.

  The gun went off and a bullet shot through the wood of the door next to Taffy's head. She screamed again and dropped the phone. Taffy fell away from the door as Damon burst in.

  Mr. Miller burst into Molly's room.

  Molly's head turned sharply from her book. "Dad?" She asked, worriedly. His eyes were bloodshot and pained and it was only five in the morning. Her parents never bothered her this early and she wasn't even being loud enough to wake them.

  "Uncle Ronnie called. Sam's--Sam was in an accident." He choked out.

  "What?" Molly breathed, barely above a whisper.

  "He's gone." Mr. Miller turned and left the room without saying anything more.

  Molly felt like he'd drilled a large, gaping hole in her chest and tried to fill it with cement. She couldn't breathe and found herself hyperventillating. She fisted her sheets tightly as the tears began to fall.

  "What does that mean?" She called.

  The whole house echoed with silence.

  "What does that mean!?" Molly shouted.

  Mrs. Miller came into Molly's room. "Honey, don't--"

  Molly interrupted. "Don't tell me to stop! He can't just come in here and tell me something like that and then walk away! It doesn't work like that!" She stood up, throwing her covers aside.

  "Molly. We just heard. Your father is hurting."

  "No. You don't get to tell me how to feel. Sam's gone? He's dead isn't he? And you think I'm not hurting just as much as dad?! Why do I have to hide how I feel?!" Molly screamed.

  She couldn't hold it in and angrily knocked everything off her dresser. Molly, then set about trashing the rest of her room. The tears continued to fall.

  "Molly! Molly, stop, please." Mrs. Miller pleaded, but she did nothing to stop her daughter.

  "Why?" Molly sobbed as she sent a bunch of picture frames flying.

  "Why Sam? Why'd you have to leave me twice?" Molly whispered, falling to her knees.

  "You need to start thinking about others, Molly. This is hard on all of us." Mrs. Miller said. "You better clean up this mess before your father sees it." Then she turned to leave the room.

  Molly gripped the folds of her nightgown angrily, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks anymore. "You never cared before how I felt, why should you start caring now, mother?"

  The words stopped her mother in her tracks. Mrs. Miller spun on her daughter and slapped her. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again."

  Molly slowly lifted her head to stare defiantly at her mother. "He was my family too."

 "Yes. You should try to be more like him. You know he was a much better child than you can ever be."

  The words felt like another slap in the face to Molly. She bit her lip and looked away so her mother wouldn't see the fresh tears forming.

  "Clean this up." Mrs. Miller ordered before leaving the room.

  Molly let the tears fall silently and curled up into a ball on the floor.