A/N: Sorry for such the long wait! Between college and an accident with my old computer, it's been hard to do anything. I spilled water on my old laptop and almost lost all of my work. But my mom helped me out and got me a new computer and we did a data recovery. So, here comes the next chapter! Thank you all for the reviews! They mean so much to me! Please keep reviewing. I love to hear feedback! Thank you so much! And enjoy!

When I woke up the next morning, I still had Lacey in my arms. I hadn't let her go, some deep rooted terror held her there, and by holding her there, I was able to keep my head. I hated myself for waking her, but she seemed relieved to have her eyes open. She looked at me, tears welling up in her eyes, and whimpered, "I hate these nightmares."

I shuddered again, not liking the idea of nightmares plaguing her sleep. So I just squeezed her tighter. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not going to let them hurt you. I still promise to protect you. I won't ever stop trying to protect you." I could feel Lacey starting to cry, so I cradled her and tried to calm her. This was breaking my heart, and I just wanted her to stay whole. I didn't want her to crumple here in my arms. I didn't want her to crumple at all. I wanted this nightmare to be over. I wanted yesterday to just be a dream, but it wasn't. It was reality, and it was hell.

By the time we were strong enough to let go, we were behind schedule. I rushed us all to get ready quickly, resorting to junk food for breakfast. With enough pushing, we managed to make it out of the house in time to make it to the bus stop on time, a few minutes on our side. The twins were groggy from their abrupt awakening, so they went to stand silently in line for the bus. Lacey robotically made to follow them when I grabbed her wrist.

"Hold on, Lace." She turned to face me, stiff, but her eyes fluid and conscious. I could see the broken heart in those gorgeous eyes of hers, and it reflected all of the horrible feelings deep inside me. If I was her teacher, I would know immediately something terrible was wrong, but I wondered if any normal person could recognize this kind of pain, especially in a little girl. I know they never did with me…

She just stared at me, probably letting herself get too vulnerable with me. But I needed her to stay strong. Just a little longer… "Sweetie, I know what is happening is hard." I could see that the tears were coming. "Shhh," I said, trying to comfort her. "Don't cry. Listen to me. You need to stay strong. Stay normal. Can you do that for me?" She nodded, pushing her pain deep inside. "Good girl. Once you are home, you can let it all out. But it will not help having the teachers trying to get involved." She nodded again.

Just then, the bus came around the corner. I pulled her into a hug. After a moment, I kissed the top of her head. "I love you more than anything is this world. I am going to figure something out sweetie, I swear." She pulled away and gave me a weak small. Then she turned and hoped on the bus.

My whole wait for Neil was agony. I needed a distraction, because my thoughts on their own were not good. I was tearing myself apart and there was nothing in the whole world that would have me stop it myself. And so when Neil came, I abandoned my usual greeting. "Hey, ready to go?"

He frowned at me. "Yeah. Eager much?"

I started towards school at a faster than usual pace, and I could Neil scrambling to catch me. "Yes, very much." I could feel him frowning and staring, but this wasn't helping! I was going to cave if someone didn't distract me. "Say something!"

I saw Neil look at me, startled. "Um, okay. What's up with you?"

I shook my head. "No, don't ask that. Don't talk about me. Just talk about something. Anything. Make me confused or anything. Just talk."

I could see this unnerving Neil, but I was desperate. I wanted to fall to the ground and thrash about, releasing my frustration and the fear. The frustration of not being sure I was going to be able to protect Lacey from this damned fate. The fear that she would be trapped as well, and that she would shatter.

But Neil obliged, talking random to me. And before we knew it, we were at school. I apologized for being weird, but asked for some alone time. He agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and parted from me. I went straight to my English class, not caring that I was a half hour early. I felt like if I was going to break, and I wanted to already be in class in case I did. And I wanted to look like I was doing constructive things. I didn't want to talk to Mrs. Craven. I wanted to just write until my hands broke. Then I would let myself crumble. Maybe I would force other things to break, to try and create some other kind of pain that would distract me. Or maybe I would save that in case of emergency, in case the worst did happen.

God damn it! Urg! Why the hell was I continuing to let myself think it was going to happen?

When I walked into the classroom, a strange occurrence sprang up. What I saw in Mrs. Craven was completely foreign. She looked tired, worried, and slightly pissed because of these things. She seemed frustrated about things she could not change. She looked similar to how I felt. On a more manageable level. She almost looked maternal, even though she had no children. And so when she looked at me, a little surprise seeping into the mix of emotions on her face, I got terrified. She looked like she could be my own mother, worrying about me.

I could only imagine what I looked like to Mrs. Craven. I could vaguely remember what I looked like in the mirror today. I was beyond pale. I looked deathly. And I hadn't bothered to hide the deep circles under my eyes, because my eyes displayed the tiredness there as well. I looked fragile, weak, and damaged. I was slightly ruffled up and disheveled, for not taking much care to what I was wearing. I don't think I brushed my hair this morning, either…

So I could imagine that I screamed of something terrible. After that moment, I stood up taller and tried to pump some life into my body so broken that only one thing could damage it more, and I swore to prevent it. I had to wear the mask, to play the game…

"Oh, Molly." She frowned at me, deepening the maternal lines. "You don't look so good. Is everything okay?"

I shuddered a little before giving a weak smile. "I'm fine."

But she knew it was a lie. "Molly, you look like death. Are you ill?"

No. I was afraid my sister was going to be raped. "No. I just couldn't sleep last night."

Mrs. Craven raised an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, you are a smart girl. But are you really dumb enough to think I would believe that?"

I bit my lip. It was no use lying… "It's just a little bit of a family conflict. It has me worried. I'm the family worrier."

Mrs. Craven's lips formed a tight line. "And what are you worried about?"

I hesitated. "It's personal."

Mrs. Craven looked like she was about to press when her phone went off. She frowned at me before turning to her phone. When looking at it, she uttered a little gasp before snatching the phone up and pressing it to her ear. Without really meaning to, I eavesdropped on her.

"Peter!" she exclaimed, more of her anger taking over her face than worry.

Ah. Peter. Mrs. Craven's brother. That explained everything. According to what Mrs. Craven told us, he was a problem child from the beginning, and she had to be the one responsible for him most of the time. But he would just disappear a lot of the times in the different cities of the U.S.. Apparently, he had disappeared again and she was trying to find him.

"Oh save it, Peter. Are you here?" She paused, nodding. "Don't you dare leave again." Another pause before frowning. "What's new here that suddenly gives you the desire to stick around?" A look of pure confusion took over as Peter answered. "A what?" Another pause before she repeated, "Open house?"

My heart stopped and I started shaking. There could only be one kind of open house that Peter would refer to. It is something that could keep him here in this place… A place that offers periodic nights with sex, booze, drugs, and porn. Something that made my life hell.

Mrs. Craven must have been listening to the explanation as to what it was. To the thing that was taking place tonight. At my house. I had to sit down. My knees were about to give, and I didn't need Mrs. Craven focusing on me.

By the end, Mrs. Craven had a look of horror. "Peter, you are going to get yourself killed. Or someone else. Or arrested. Not to mention that it's just disgusting! Please don't go." She waited, her line returning to the tight line. "Peter, for once, won't you just listen to me?" Whatever he said, she didn't like because she groaned. "Fine. Whatever. It's your head, not mine. But tell me. Where am I going to track you down to give you your things?"

The expression on her face became outraged. She shook her head. "No Peter. You must be crazy to think I would risk everything." She paused. Then she groaned again. "Fine! But if I am at risk, you are going down for me." She nodded. "You owe me that much, yes." She sighed. "Fine. You better…" She then hung up with a groan.

I stared at Mrs. Craven. Her brother would be one of the people I served tonight. The thought made me get chills. I really hoped that that wouldn't happen. The thought really made me sick. And as if she could feel this, Mrs. Craven turned to me, as if she hadn't noticed I was there until now. "Oh. Molly?" I nodded numbly. She frowned. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. My brother…"

I shook my head. "It's personal."

She looked at me, frowning. It was almost as if she connected the dots between the relevance of her brother's new hobby and my pitiful life. But she must have denied it for she shook her head. "I suppose."

Just then, the bell rang. I tried to settle myself, and I saw Mrs. Craven do the same. And by the time class started, it almost seemed like she was completely normal. Lucky for her it was so easy. Not me, though. It's never easy for me.

The whole day was horrible. I never improved, and the looks Mrs. Craven snuck in made me edgy. And in my other classes, it seemed like my other teachers were tipped off that things weren't quite right. I even avoided Neil at lunch, due to the edginess. I just hid out in one of the girls' bathrooms until the bell rang.

And so when I finally was forced to talk to Neil again, he was panicked. But I hushed him and told him not to worry, that I was just having an off day. He pressed the whole way, so I was very anxious when we turned our separate ways. And I did not slow my pace as I made it for home. The people would start arriving too soon, and I wanted the kids ready for the whole night.

I walked in to the twins and Lacey at the table, silently working. None of them looked up as I walked in, but I could see that Lacey was hardly focused on whatever she was doing. An act? Maybe. It made me want to cry, to scream and rage at this horrible reality. I could already see the deep rooted void, in those eyes so beautiful and so wise. My younger sister… The one thing that meant more to me than anything, including my own life. And now? It was threatened to be destined to my same horrific fate.

I put my things away, not needing them until tomorrow. Then I started cleaning up the house, because Jett would be very angry with me if it wasn't presentable for the quests of the open house later. Not that it really mattered. By the end of the night, it would be trashed, dirty, and smelly. But, I didn't need Jett angrier with me than he was already. Some points weren't worth making.

As I cleaned, my mind wandered until it stirred up my experience from this morning. Peter. Was I going to see Mrs. Craven's brother tonight? Would he be like all the other men? I shuddered, thinking about that. I don't think I could ever think of Mrs. Craven the same if Peter did something to me. If he so much as asked me for something, it would stain my memories. Usually, I never had emotional or personal connection to the guests at the open houses. But if Peter were to be there, that would change.

I finished cleaning up the house after an hour, and by then, the twins had finished their work and were helping. But Lacey continued to be submerged in the abyss, neither here nor there. I tried to keep my mind from wandering to her, because I didn't want the twins knowing of the horrors of the night before. I know that they knew something was wrong, but I refused to give up my need to protect them from reality. I never wanted them to know or understand.

But then I had to get Lacey back on track. "Lacey, could you get the twins' bath done for me? I'm going to get dinner ready." For the first time since I got home, Lacey looked up from her book. The life was nearly drained from her face. What was left resided in her eyes, but those were as good as dead, too. If this was what she was like after an attempted rape, I wonder how bad it'll be when it actually happens.

At the thought, I started mentally swearing myself hoarse. Stop thinking like that, Molly, I thought, exasperated. Why did I let myself think like that? Why was I letting this come back to keep hurting me? It hadn't happened, and I was going to work hard to make sure it never did. It would destroy me if it did, because it would destroy her.

I started dinner, and thankfully it helped to keep my mind free of the horrible fears bubbling in my stomach. And by the time the twins and Lacey were done with their baths, dinner was ready, on the table. We all ate silently, and once we had all finished, I had the kids do the dishes. I had the task of setting up for the open house. I had to pull out all of the pornographic movies, the bottles of alcohol, the dozens of ash trays we had, and other little things that were musts for open houses.

By six o'clock, everything was ready, except for me. I herded the kids into the room and made sure they would be situated for the evening. I grabbed my clothes that I had to wear on these nights and took them outside the room. I checked and double checked to be sure everything was in order. Then I kissed them all goodnight and had Lacey bolt the door. I never slept in the room on these nights. For one, it was always too risky to keep the door open. For that reason, it was always bolted shut. And it was a pain in the neck to have to unbolt it from the outside. I could do it if I wanted, but it always sucked. So, I usually slept on the couch or locked myself in the bathroom until morning, sleeping on the floor.

I sighed as I went to the bathroom to change into the outfit. The people would start arriving soon, and if I was absent for too long, it meant trouble. So quickly, I changed into my other clothes. I always wore a red shirt, though it was too short to cover my stomach, too low cut to cover much of my chest, had barely enough fabric for straps to keep it up on my shoulders, and a low cut back. The skirt I wore was black, but so short that I always felt uncomfortable. When I put my arms down, my fingers easily went past the bottom. I always wore these bright red heels that most girls would love to have, but I hated them. They suggested so much.

Essentially, I always felt half naked in this costume. Well, in a way, I was. But Jett insisted on me wearing it, in more ways than one. Some battles just aren't worth starting or fighting. This was one of them. As much as I hate it, no bit of rebellion will change what Jett wants or what he'd do to me to ensure he get what he wants. That's the game I have to play all the time. It's the way of life. That's it. And nothing that I ever think, say, or do will change the rules. And there is never any chance I am going to win the game. Jett cannot be beaten.

I had just stashed my school clothes when I heard them start coming. I took in a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom. It was my mother, dressed in skimpier clothes than what I wore, Jett, and a group of about ten men and three women. Some of them had bundles in their hands. Others had cash. They never hesitated to get these things started.

I worked blindly. And as more people started coming, it became almost brainless. The shouts of "Hey, little girl, we need another movie," or "Where's the Mary Jane?" would occasionally require me to be conscious of the things I did or the people I helped. But for the most part, I was never really there during the open houses. It hurt too much to let myself be fully there.

It wasn't until about eleven that my brain had anything to think about. It was then that I had just mopped up a spilt bottle of Jägermeister. I had finally come to again, and so I noticed when the newcomer came in. And I just about fainted.

He looked just like her in so many ways. They had the same eyes, the same color hair, the same heart shaped face. But he looked tired and worn from drug use. He was very thin and lanky, not very tall. And his clothes were despicable. But he wore a smile that was the spitting image of pure joy. For whatever reason, Peter was very happy to be at this open house.

As I went back to work, I kept praying that he wouldn't notice me or ask me to do something. I didn't want to have to hate him, or nearly hate Mrs. Craven. But I knew that if we made personal contact, there would never be a chance in me being able to forgive either of them. No, none of it is their fault, but I would never stop associating them with this awful reality.

So, I kept eyeing Peter, standing near the room that people went to go get laid. And every time I saw him, I could see so many similar features of Mrs. Craven. It unnerved me. I was trying to avoid him, so that he couldn't eye me in the skimpy clothes showing off too much cleavage, stomach, and legs. I didn't want him to touch me. I didn't want him to desire me like many of the men here did. I didn't want anything that would make me hate Mrs. Craven, but if her brother did these things, I could no longer stand to be in her class with their sibling resemblance plaguing me.

Then there was a group of men whistling for me. They wanted more booze and weed, so I filled my tray. I heard someone else come in, but I let myself be distracted. And so by the time I was ready to serve the men a few minutes later, whoever new was mixed in. I'd probably be hearing from them very soon.

I made my way to the men, who were growing impatient. "Calm it boys," I said in a bad mock-seductive voice. They giggled at me and I was going to ignore them when one of them grabbed my wrist, pulling me to him. He put a hand on my waist and then grabbed my chin down.

"Mmmm, baby girl. I'd chill right down if you could please me."

I winced. "Well, that's the only thing we don't offer here. You should know that." He was a regular.

He groaned. "You tease too much, baby girl. You could make serious bank if you let it go."

I gagged silently. "No thanks." And I pulled away, my skin crawling. I was going to go try and hide in the shadows when an out of place gasp caught my alarm. Before I could turn around, I heard the person's voice. "Molly?!"

As I whipped around, I felt my heart skydive into my stomach in horror. I nearly dropped my tray. I started shaking as my eyes settled on Mrs. Craven. Why on earth was she here? There was more than shock in her face. It was downright fear. I tried to breathe, but my lungs weren't working. I could feel the horror of my whole life slowly seep onto my face, and I knew that Mrs. Craven wouldn't be able to deny it now.

"Hi Mrs. Craven," I said weakly.

I could actually see tears well up in her eyes. I could see the millions of question swarming up, like word vomit, just waiting for her to be gagged. I'm sure that if she were not so shocked, she would literally vomit. But there was more than her just seeing me that would drive this to hell.

Right at that moment, Jett made an appearance nearby. I saw him eye me quickly, as if wondering how badly he wanted me, before he came my way. I wanted to tell Mrs. Craven to get out, before any of us got in trouble, but I knew I couldn't, and that she wouldn't. So, I had to stand in horror as my father, my rapist, my sister's attempted rapist, my mother's pimp and drug dealer, and the host of this party come up to me. I wanted to vomit myself.

"Molly," he said in a sappy voice. "Baby girl, can you do your big daddy a favor?" I felt heat flush my face turning me red, all while the rest of my body went cold. "Could you make sure you stay up and do some talking with me tonight?" He chuckled sickly before turning and leaving.

I almost forgot Mrs. Craven was here. I went rigid, stiff, horrified. He was going to make me pay big time for interfering with Lacey, I knew it. But now there was someone on the outside that I would have to worry about. Which brought me back to Mrs. Craven.

I met her eyes, and they reflected the dread. She knew that what was going to happen had nothing to do with talking. The realization that the host of a party like this one was also my father seemed to awaken something in Mrs. Craven. Part of it was denial, I could see that. But there was more. Maybe she was connecting this to my poems. Maybe she was connecting it to how I acted. Whatever it was, she was horrified and terrified. I bit my lip as a few tears overflowed. I was about to break down when I heard an impatient man hollering for me. I gave a pained look before turning to go tend to the man.

And after I tended to him, I found that Mrs. Craven hadn't lingered to see any more. She had left me. For some reason, this made me very afraid. What was she going to do? Was she going to go somewhere? Say something? Ignore it completely? Bring it up at school? The things that could happen were countless, and that terrified me.

The open house went on until past three in the morning, and it wasn't a fast process. It was terribly slow. I was suddenly much more aware of every set of hands that touched me, every pair of eyes that stared at me, and every word said to me. I was disgusted and terrified. I never realized how bad things were until now, when someone from the normal world was dragged into my hellish reality.

And way before I was ready, it happened. The last visitor had only just left when I heard the fast footsteps coming up behind me, and before I could react, he had spun me around and grabbed my arms. I was too petrified to try and escape. I know I had to pay for my little stunt with Lacey last night, and I knew it was going to be one of the worst experiences of my life.

But what I didn't know was that it was going to be worse than even the first time.

He smiled at me, a crazed look in his eyes. I was too good at analyzing people that I couldn't ignore what was in my father's eyes. There was desire and anger, easy to read. But there was also obsession and fear. Not fear of me, but fear of losing his satisfaction. If he had his way, he'd keep me here forever.

Then Jett laughed, bringing his face very close to mine. I could smell the tons of booze heavy on his breath, tainted by stale cigarettes. Then he brushed his lips to my cheek, slowly to my earlobe where he lightly bit it. I clenched my jaw, trying not to provoke him to breaking my arms so easily in his giant hands. But I started shaking and couldn't calm myself. I was suddenly so overwhelmed with everything that my body could not contain it: my sister's attempted rape, my encounters with Mrs. Craven, the promises to each one of them, and the most violent rape I have and probably ever will encounter. I didn't blame myself for being scared. But I almost felt ashamed of my fear.

"So, you want to play the hero," Jett said softly, right into my ear. Another violent shake. "Well, congratulations. You got through round one." Jett released one of my arms, but I didn't try to fight. It would just make it worse for me. I just stood there as still as I could manage as Jett played a game he never had. He had never tried to purposely psychologically abuse and damage me. It was just rape. It was just incest. He never would speak more than a few sentences.

And now that was all going to change.

"I know what you want," he whispered. "You want to keep little Lacey girl from me. But even you must know how useless your attempts will be." I shuddered, and I could feel him smile widely as he kissed my cheek. Then I felt his hand on my upper back and I could also feel it slowly traveling down. "I cannot ignore or miss out on such pretty one. And I bet she feels nice."

My head started spinning. I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to hear anything. I didn't care anymore what he did to me. I didn't care. But Lacey? I wanted her out of this. He was right about that. But still, I shuddered more at the thought of my father holding my sister like this, talking to her like this. What if I wasn't able to protect her and this was her in a few years when Kelly was old enough? Everything inside me rejected these thoughts, because I wasn't going to give up on trying preventing it all.

His hand traveled farther and farther down my back until it was on the small curve of it. I felt him press his face into my hair, smelling it. Then he bent his head down and kissed my neck, sending on new waves of dizziness and nausea. "Oh, reminds me." I started shaking even more violently. I knew exactly what he was remembering, and I didn't want him to go there. Not now. Not ever….

He laughed dreamily. "Oh yes. That first time was the best. Feeling how soft you were for the first time. And no longer just your arms and legs. Your body. It was so small, so vulnerable, and so soft." He inhaled in my hair again. "I was even a little nervous to get inside you for the first time." I gagged. I never wanted any part of my father inside me. There was a reason I never put it that way. And there was a reason why I always tried to drown out all the evidence.

"But once I had a taste, I lost all of that fear. Oh, you were so good I could hardly stand it. And it was even better when I was able to make you do all that naughty stuff with me, too." I closed my eyes tightly, trying to block that part away. The part that I never got to in my nightmares because they were so horrible that I always woke. I never visited these memories. They were cemented away as best as possible. But now, my father was bringing them back. The one time that he experimented. The one time he got away with it.

He kissed my neck again, so gently that I wanted scream. "I haven't had anything better since, and I've been waiting for the perfect girl to have something better. I finally started noticing how Lacey is no longer a little girl, but a mini woman. She looks just like you did when I suddenly desired you. But, I must admit, she is thinner, and much prettier. And she looks even softer." I bit my lip painfully, trying to give me a physical pain versus this emotional agony. I just wanted to protect Lacey. That's the only thing I wanted. I would give up anything. And I was. But it wasn't going to be enough, was it? Not with Jett. Nothing ever was enough for him.

He then pulled away from me, only enough so our eyes could meet. "I am going to take her, Molly. I am going to get inside her too and take my time of it. I am going to enjoy every second. I am going to obsess in the feel of her, the look of her. The sounds. The feelings. Everything." My head spun even worse and I felt the beads of sweat gathering on my forehead. I felt my stomach churn and I wanted to just retch all over Jett. And then I could feel the tears. Were they pain? Fear? Worry? I didn't know, but they started falling, and I wanted to cry at these threats.

Jett chuckled at me. "Does that make poor baby Molly cry? Don't worry; Daddy is going to take care of you." I saw him lean in to start kissing my neck some more, and I willed myself not to retch everywhere. I gagged, but managed to hold on to some stranded and dying sanity. I felt him release my other arm, so he could hold me, pull me in, and touch me like the sick pervert he was. Though I was still, I wasn't numbing out like I usually did. I was enduring every moment of pain.

It was like I was being submerged in broken glass. The big shards dug deep, causing one clean crevice. But it was the little shards that were hurting the most. They were hurting every little nerve, somehow being breathed in and cutting up my insides. My life was this glass, and right now, my father was pouring the little shards all around me. Even if I wanted to piece it back together, I only had the big pieces. The little ones were too sharp to touch, and almost too small to matter. But they were big enough to leave me forever shattered.

I let myself become limp. I didn't bother fighting. I think I was hurting too much to be able to move, anyway. So, when he suddenly pulled me with him to his room, I followed blindly. I was prepared to endure once more. I would be limp. I would be lifeless. Was this even life anymore? Was I really even alive? He could probably get off more with raping a corpse. Was I much more than that, anyway? I felt hopeless. Why did I even try protecting Lacey? How could either of us stop this from being her fate?

As Jett pulled me into the room, I was brought back to life by yelling. "Anne, get your skanky ass out. I need the bed."

My eyes registered my mother, half naked on the bed. She was wasted and high, looking at Jett in an odd way. "Why baby? I can join you."

Jett snorted. "You aren't joining me. You don't to threesomes with girls, Anne."

I felt an odd burning sensation in my stomach and saw my mother's eyes on me. She looked at me, not worried that Jett was going to rape me. She knew that was what he did when he brought me here. She was prepared to give up her daughters. "Oh, hi Molly. You ready for some more of a good time?"

I shuddered again. Jett laughed. "I was just telling her how soon Lacey will be there to join in on the fun."

There was my answer. Why was I alive? Why was I fighting? Why was I even bothering to hope to spare Lacey from this? Because her own mother wouldn't do it. No one would. And I wasn't going to leave my sister alone. I wasn't going to abandon her like our mother abandoned me. I wasn't going to leave her alone when she needed someone most. Even if I failed, at least someone fought. At least she could always have someone to support her. At least she would know someone cared enough to try.

I let this pump life back into me. My mother left and I could somewhat take in that Jett was undressing. No, I wasn't going to let this happen without a fight. Any of this. For Lacey. I was not going to let him think I was done trying to protect her.

I was fully back when he came back to me, in only his boxers. "Now it's your turn, baby girl. Let's rock Daddy's world."

I shook with anger suddenly. "No."

He froze momentarily. Then he laughed. "No what, baby?"

I shook my head. "I am not your baby. You are a sick pig and you are not my father, even if you got my mother knocked up. You are nothing but a cowardly, desperate bastard who is so disgusting as to rape its own daughters. No, I will not 'rock your world.' If you have any sense, you'll let me go."

At first, he just stared at me. Then he started laughing. "Why so pissy, little girl?" He looked at me, then sighed. "Oh, trying of the hero again? Trying to protect little Lacey again?"

I nodded. "Not going to try. I am going to. I swear to you, the moment you so much as touch her again, you're mine."

He frowned at me, for once letting me see a little surprise. Maybe even a little bit of fear. "I'm yours? In what way?"

I stared at him, complete seriousness etched in my face. "If it's the last thing I do, I will make sure you are dead if you dare take away Lacey's childhood. You took mine, but you are not taking hers without a price."

Jett frowned a moment, then laughed. "You're really going to give up your life and freedom just to kill someone like me?"

I nodded. "I'm not worth anything in the world except Lacey's protector. If I fail her, I will make sure she gets justice."

Jett looked very seriously at me. For a sliver of a second, I felt like I was looking at my father. But it disappeared quicker than it appeared. "Good luck with that," he said before he seized me and threw me down on the bed.

It was kind of a relief to have him rip and tear away the skimpy clothes. It meant never having to wear them again. But I still fought and made a great deal of noise as he tried to rape me. I used all of my strength to hit as much as I could, to bite and draw blood, to scratch, to hurt. He did not enjoy me hurting him, but he took the liberty to amuse himself by returning my efforts and worse. After all, I could not go inside him and seemingly tear him apart from the inside, like he could to me.

But I made sure he knew I was fighting. I made sure he wasn't able to walk away from this unscathed. I made sure that he wouldn't forget my anger. Maybe, someday if I ever was faced with killing Jett, I could see a flicker of fear in his eyes before I took his life. Maybe he would even beg with me, like I have, and Lacey will, if it ever comes to that point.

So by the time he let me go, he was bleeding pretty badly, and hurting. I shot for the bathroom where I did my usually cleanup. I let myself become clean enough. I did not break down. I did not cry. I did not shatter. The rage now in my blood held me together. I was alive as long as I had something worth fighting for.

I was thoroughly decided at this point. There was only two ways this could end. The first and ideal way was to just peacefully make it until I was eighteen. If nothing happened between now and then, I would not make anything happen. But, if Jett raped my sister, that option was going to be long forgotten. The only option would be to kill Jett. I wouldn't care how. But all I knew was that I would have to stop his heart from beating anymore.

At this point, jail didn't scare me. If I went to jail, I wouldn't care because I had destroyed that black hole of a human being. Lacey would have justice. And, frankly, so would I. And, Lacey would be so much safer. No. There was no way around it. I was going to have to kill him. He wasn't going to rest until he either had my sister, or he was dead. And I'd rather have one, not both. And his death was now essential.

As the water ran over me, I let myself think about killing Jett. It wasn't until I was almost ready to get out that I realized one problem, one question. How? How was I going to kill Jett? I knew I would wonder about that, but I didn't let it hold me back. If there was a will, there was a way.

When I got out of the shower, I found my bedroom door cracked open. Jett had gone to bed shortly after he finished raping me. Curious, I snuck inside the room. All the kids were sound asleep. But on the pillow next to Lacey's head was a note she had written, saying she wanted me to come back and sleep with her after everything. I wondered how much she knew about what had happened and been happening. But I was thankful for our own bed.

I climbed into bed and I sighed. She was out completely. I watched her sleep a while, finding some peace. For now, she was whole. I was going to fight for that. And if that was taken, I was going to fight for revenge. No one hurts someone I love. Especially if they value their life at all. At this though, I smiled. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. I would be okay as long as she was okay. That was what I was fighting for.

I sank into sleep and woke an hour and a half later. When I woke Lacey, she was very alarmed. She saw all the marks on me and knew not only was I raped, but brutally so. "Molly," she moaned in agony.

I pulled her up into a sitting position. "Don't worry about it, Lacey."

She stared at me alarmed. "Don't worry about it? Molly, you looked undeniably like you were beaten."

I sighed. "I know. I am going to tell everyone that I fell down some stairs. But really, don't worry."

Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, okay. Because it's not like I am immune to this."

I sighed. "No, you are not immune. And that's why I have these. From protecting you." I saw the guilt in her eyes. "Don't worry. I did it to myself. Sort of. But I also made it very clear what is going to happen when or if he tries to hurt you."

Lacey looked at me questioningly. "And what is that?"


We left the conversation at that and got ready for school. Jett was still sleeping off the open house, so we were free to move around in the living room. It was all a blur to me. Not that I was trying to not think about anything, but it more seemed like I was incapable to do it. There such a deep hatred inside me, so strong that I actually wanted to kill my father. I had no means to do it, but I desired it. I wouldn't, though. Not unless he hurt Lacey. But I was almost positive that that would happen.