3rd Person Perspective:
"Father, enough!" She grabs the half-empty liquor bottle from her father. "You have had far too much to drink this evening. We shall run out soon if you do not slow down!" She tries to leave the room, but her father grabs her left arm, twisting hard to spin her around to face him.
"Idiot girl! I'll do what I please around here and I would thank you to hold. Your. TONGUE!" He spits in her face. He wrestles the bottle of scotch from her hand and throws her to the floor. She clutches her wrist. His speech is slurred, and as he takes a step towards his daughter he leans to the left, as though trying to keep his balance. "You, Laineth, have no right to even speak to me, bitch!" He pulls his right foot back, and swings it forward. It connects with her abdomen and a starburst of pain shoots through her body.
A satisfied smile parts his lips. "Have you anything to say now, Satan's Child?"
"Yeah," she answers, gasping for breath, "go to Hell."
Her father's face purples, and he grabs her from the floor and smacks her across her face, his ring turned around. Laineth refuses to cry out. I must stay strong, don't give him the satisfaction of hurting me, she thinks to herself. Again his hand slams against her face. Huh, he still hasn't figured out how to turn his ring around, is the first thought crossing Laineth's mind as her father's hand slams into her face again, giving Laineth a second huge cut across her face that begins to bleed and throb immediately.
He throws her down onto the floor, and begins to kick at her abdomen repeatedly. All Laineth can think to do is try to protect her head from the incessant blows. Soon, the pain is threatening to make her pass out, but just as she begins to lose consciousness, the beating stops.
Her father leaves the room and stands out on the porch.
She lies still for many minutes, trying to calm down.
Tears fall from Laineth's hazel-green eyes and fall onto her brilliant red hair, fanned out around her head. Her brother steps out of the corner where he was hiding behind the bed.
"Are you okay, Lain?" He asks as he bends down and helps her to sit up.
"Get me my shawl, Alan," Laineth's voice comes out raspy, but she continues, "We're leaving this place." She pulls herself into a standing position, grabs her brother's coat, and hands it to him.
"But what about Father?" Her brother asks, and Laineth's steps falter for a second when she reaches the back door to their small house.
Her voice answers back, "What about him?"
"What will he do without us? Who will take care of him?" Alan's fear is clear in his dark brown eyes, and for a second Laineth wonders if she is indeed making the correct choice. Then she looks at her brother.
She takes in her his appearance: Big, brown eyes, dirty blonde hair in need of cleaning, a dust-stained shirt and breeches. It's sad. She thinks, the tears in his clothes should be from roughhousing with friends, not from begging on the streets and working in a field, his eyes should be playful, not scared and uncertain. This isn't living. This is prison.
"Fathers are supposed to take care of their children, not the other way around." Her temper makes her words come out harsher than she intended.
"But mother-" He tries to defend his father.
"But mother nothing." Her voice is softer, sadder. "No man gets to drunkenly abuse his children for seven years and blame it on the fact that his wife is dead. We're leaving, I'm getting you somewhere safe where you can grow up without having to deal with him."
Laineth grabs her brother's hand and together they walk out the back door, neither of them looking back. She can feel the mid-day sun warming her shoulders, but she keeps her eyes focused on the path before her, unwilling to let her brother see her in pain. She stumbles on the rough cobblestone trail and sucks in a gasp of air, trying not to cry out.
"Are you okay to walk?" Alan's eyes fill with concern for his big sister.
"We just need to get to the docks," she answers, "then I'll be fine." Alan nods and steps closer to his sister, wrapping his skinny arm around her waist, acting like a human crutch.
Laineth's heart swells with gratitude for her little brother, her rock. What would I do without him? She wonders. And she doesn't want to find out.
Before walking all the way around the house, the pair duck into the forest. They quickly walk past the front of their small home, sticking to the shadows of the forest to stay out of sight from their father, passed out in a chair by the front door. Once they are out of sight of the front door, they emerge from the woods and return to the main road. As they walk past the bakery, Alan pauses, enjoying the smell of the freshly baked bread.
"Hungry, are we?" Laineth teases.
"Only a little bit, I didn't eat lunch, but I will be fine." Alan says. Laineth flashes her brother a smile before covering her head with her shawl and walking into the store. A few seconds later she emerges carrying two loaves of bread and talking with the bakery-owner:
"-And the second loaf is free, darling. You do enough work around this village for that dead-beat father of yours, and there's really no need for you to pay for either of them."
"Please, Mrs. MacMillin, let me pay for at least one, it's the least I can do." Laineth presses some coins into Mrs. MacMillin's hand, thanking her profusely.
"Very well, young lady, and there's no need to tell your father about the second loaf. Keep it to yourselves, will you darlings?" A soft smile appears on her lips, and then is gone.
"Of course." With a small curtsey and polite smile, Laineth bids farewell to Mrs. MacMillin and returns to her brother, removing her shawl as she walks.
"Would you like a piece?" Laineth offers the first loaf of bread to her brother. He tears off a piece and pops it into his mouth, the soft dough staving off hunger for the time being. He hands the rest of the loaf to his sister, and she wraps the two loaves up into her shawl.
"Hopefully it'll help the bread stay fresh for longer." She responds to her brother's questioning look.
Hooking the dough under her right arm and grabbing her brother's hand in her right, they begin to jog to the docks, unsure of how much longer their father will be unconscious.
Rushing along the cobblestone streets, Laineth begins to feel the effects of her beating, but she tries to push them away. They've passed the bakery, the butcher, and the stable. Once they get to the blacksmith and make a right through the forest, they will reach the dock and be free. Finally, they see the blacksmith, and the path to the docks. They rocket down the path, fear and excitement increasing with every step. We can't get caught. We can't get caught. We can't get caught. Laineth repeats the mantra inside her head with every step.
They reach their boat, and begin to load in, when they can't find the oars. They're standing up in the small row boat when a shadow falls over them, and they turn around to see their father standing over them, his face purple and his hand twitching.
"And where in the blazes do you two devils think you're off to?" His voice is loud and threatening. He sees Alan and Laineth's eyes looking for the oars, and an evil smile darkens his face. "Looking for something?" He asks, as he holds up the oars.
"Not anymore!" Alan's voice cuts through Laineth's fear, and she grabs one of the oars just as Alan pushes the boat away from the dock. The boat catches the current. The current is so strong and fast, and the siblings can tell their father is the only thing keeping them anchored to the dock.
"Let go!" Alan's voice urges her, and she shakes her head, incapable of speech. "Let go or he'll get us!" Alan begins to plead. He can see the cruel light in his father's eyes for the first time, and he is terrified. But Laineth is still frozen. He reaches around his sister and loosens her grip on the oar, forcing her to let go.
The river's current rushes them away from the dock, and for the first time in their lives, the siblings breathe a sigh of relief. They relax, but only for a brief second before the roar of the rapids fill their ears.
Panic overtakes Alan, and he makes to jump out of the boat.
"No! We must stay here, Al, we jump out of the boat, we die!" Laineth has to yell to be heard, but her brother hears her. He looks at her, eyes wild with fear.
"We'll die anyways! Father always said the rapids we caused by the Gods, and that they'll kill any mortal who dares to enter them!"
"And you trust him over me? Just hold on! And, may I remind you, technically we are not entering the rapids, our boat is, and we have no control over that!"
But Alan never has a chance to respond, because his sister is launched out of the boat.
"Lain!" He yells, and then he sees her, holding on to the side of the boat. "Just hang on, please, I'll find a way to help you, please don't leave me."
"Let go Al, let go. Just hold onto the boat-"
"No! You just hold on-"
"Let me finish." Laineth gasps for breath. "Hold onto the boat until the current is weak enough and there is a town across the river. You have to make it; all of this was for you. The bread is still in the boat, try not to lose it."
"Lain-" Alan's voice comes out at a whisper, barely heard by his sister. He is turning back into the scarred, nine-year-old boy he was.
"Tell the head of the clam there our story, tell them what Father would do. Tell them everything; tell them I died trying to get you out of there. Be truthful-" Her hand slips, "and don't forget, be brave."
Alan grabs Lain's hands, trying to keep her on the boat, trying not to lose her. Tears stream down his pale face.
"I love you so much Al." And she lets go. The current sweeps her body away, but she keeps her head above water. Al's hands are gripping the edge of the boat so tightly that it begins to draw blood, but he never breaks eye contact with his older sister. He watches her until her head hits a rock and her body falls below the surface. His brave sister. Dead.
"I love you too, Lain." He hugs the edges of the boat, and weeps.