Marilyn

Author's Note: The idea for this story came from an indian drama I like. Credit goes there. The show is called Madhubala - Ek Ishq Ek Junoon. Also, I apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors. I tried my best, and I hope you like the story.

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Patricia's POV: I heard the click of the trigger as the bullet flew over my head knocking the apple to the ground. As soon as that was over, I ran past my father straight to my mother in the kitchen. I couldn't help the tears streaming down my face. My father never missed a shot, but it still gave me shivers just thinking about how one miss could take my life. But, sometimes, I even thought dying would be better than living here. Here, no one loves me but my mother. She stopped her chores as soon as she saw me. Her face showed genuine concern as she asked me what happen. I tried to explain, but I was only able to let a few words escape my mouth between sobs; " Dad...shooting...apple." But, I didn't need to explain any further. My mom immediately understood. This was a regular incident. Every now and then, Dad would make me stand in the middle of a field as he practiced his shooting. He would place apples on my head, and knock them over. This was only one of his cruel antics. But, I had it better compared to my mother. My grandma came into the kitchen joining my mother and I. My grandma was just as cruel as my dad. She yelled at me to stop crying, and my mother said she'd accept punishment on my behalf. I felt bad because my mother was pregnant. But, grandma didn't seem to care. She forced her to clean the entire house - once again. I helped my mother as we mopped and dusted the entire house - once again.

Pamela's POV (MOTHER): I couldn't stand to see Patricia clean the house all by herself...she was only 5 years old. I accepted her punishment, but she was sweet enough to still help me clean the entire house. After we finished, I took her to her room and tucked her in bed, softly singing her to sleep. I closed my eyes and the flashbacks flooded my mind. I thought back to when I was happily married to Heath. We had Patricia and only a few months later he died. I remarried so I could provide for Patricia. I thought we'd be happy when I married the rich Brent Smith. Little did I know, he was crazy - in some sort. He wanted a son, nothing else. He constantly remarried and impregnated his wives in the hopes of having a son. But, luck was against him and he had a daughter over and over. That's when the crazy part kicked in. If he had a daughter, he killed his wife and their newborn daughter. It was heartbreaking. I looked down at Patricia who was now sound asleep, and I wished I gave her a better life. I was terrified that I would have a daughter, now. I hoped that if I had a son, then maybe Brent would be nicer towards Patricia and me. It was a long shot, but it was my only hope. I couldn't report Brent to the cops. I tried that once, but he had his own dirty men on the inside. After he found out, Patricia and I were treated like caged animals, never leaving their sight. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep with Patricia by my side.