Isabel Richardson sat silently in front of her computer, rubbing her red puffy eyes. The tears had stop, but Izzy could feel nothing but grief, despair, and pain. Writing this email didn't help. She sighed and turned away from the screen, looking out her bedroom window. It was a starry, cloudless, summer night. The moon looked full and bright; as if it was smiling. Nights like these, Izzy would sit out on her roof, star gazing, writing in her journal, or just looking in the streets of Englewood.
Izzy snapped out of her daydreaming and looked back at her email, and her heart broke all over again. Why did this happen?
For six months now, Izzy had been working on Phillip Tendon's farm. He was a friendly middle-aged man. His wife, Lacey Tendon, was as sweet as honey, and beautiful. She was also good tempered, always giving Izzy a warm smile when she entered the small yellow house. Mr. Tendon was so devoted to his wife. Doing more then enough when Mrs. Tendon just asked of him to do simple things. When she started to feel ill, Mr. Tendon would drop his work every hour to check on her, making sure that she was comfortable and content. Izzy minded her own business, and only did what she was told. She was always delighted when Mrs. Tendon called her in to give her company. Izzy loved to hear the stories of when she was young and growing up. Izzy's favorite story was when Mrs. Tendon told her story of her salvation. She went to Izzy's church, so she knew the story well. Izzy loved Mrs. Tendon; she was like an aunt to her. They always had fun just sitting around, talking. They prayed together for the salvation of Mr. Tendon, who hadn't accept Christ after his wife did. When Izzy's third month of working had begun, it happened. Mrs. Tendon grew worse. Izzy came to work one morning to find Mr. Tendon carrying his wife towards their Ford. Izzy rushed over, dropping her things in the dew-wet grass. When she saw Mrs. Tendon's face, she stopped dead in her tracks. Mrs. Tendon looked ghostly; all color had drained from her face. Her lips where dried and cracked, blood protruding from them. Not much, but it was enough to make Izzy's stomach flip.
"Izzy, I have to take Lacey to the hospital," Mr. Tendon had said to her in a kindly, fearful voice, while laying his dear wife in the back seat, "You can go home. I know you'd like to come with us, but I'm afraid her moans and screams might leave a disturbing mark on you." He gave Izzy a weak smile. She just nodded, tears swelling in her large blue eyes. Then he hopped in his Ford, and drove off. From that point on, Izzy knew she wouldn't see Mrs. Tendon alive on this Earth again. Sadly, she was right.
The funeral was a few days after Mrs. Tendon's passing. The wake was to be that morning, then after everybody said goodbye, she was to be buried in her family's cemetery. Izzy had walked up to the dark, cherry wood coffin, and peered in. Even in death, she looked beautiful. Her auburn curls surrounded her thin frame, and that peaceful look on her face. Sobs escaped from Izzy, this was terrible, but also wonderful at the same time. Mrs. Tendon was no longer here, which gave a stab of pain to Izzy every time this crossed her mind, but no longer would Mrs. Tendon suffer. She had suffered too long.
Izzy took her hand, breathed one last pray and said in a small, shaky whisper,
"Lacey Tendon, I'll see you again. Until then, I promise I'll tell your husband about Jesus. I love you." With those words spoken, Izzy bent over and kissed her silky cheek. Then she left, letting her tears consume her.
A week after the funeral, Izzy returned to work. The young teenager was still quite shaken, but knew she had to return. When she arrived at the small farmhouse, she entered and found the house quite different. Before Mrs. Tendon's passing, it had been a cheery, bright place. Always clean and tidy. Now, however, gloom and despair met Izzy's eyes, and the place was an absolute mess. Dishes piled up in the sink, and newspapers were scattered everywhere. Izzy began to search the house for her employer. When she found him, she was not prepared for the sight that she saw.
Mr. Tendon laid on the floor, whisky, sherry, and brandy bottles laid everywhere around him, leaking with what little was left of them. The room stank with tobacco from an ashtray full of cigarettes. Mr. Tendon looked rugged, as if he hadn't shaved in weeks, and his clothes were stained. His eyes were blood shot, and his eyelids drooped with sadness.
"Mr. Tendon?" Izzy inched forward slowly. She could feel the hairs on her neck beginning to stand up as she heard a weak moan rise. Mr. Tendon looked up at Izzy; she smiled softly, hoping that would easy the tension she felt. He gripped the bottle that he held in his hands, and then it happened.
Mr. Tendon hit her, smashing the bottle against her head, spite the fact that it was small and weighted no more then one or two pounds, it hurt like the devil. After that, Mr. Tendon went into a violent rampage, kicking and pulling her hair. Izzy screamed in terror, but that only made the drunken man even more infuriated. Mr. Tendon broke a bottle against a coffee table and brought a shard up to her neck, and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling her head back.
"If you ever tell anyone what happened today, I'll will find out who and kill them, and if you don't show up for work after today, I will go out and kill you. Now get out of here you imp!" Mr. Tendon kicked Izzy in the gut and swore at her. However, she didn't waste any time following his orders. She got right up and ran like the wind, tears streaming down her pale face.
Once Izzy felt she was at a safe distant away from the Tendon farm, she dropped to her knees and cried. She was bloodily and bruised around her abdominal, and most of Izzy's pain came from her chest, but she was confidant that not much damage was done. What was she going to do? Izzy believed when Mr. Tendon said he would kill anybody when he was in this sort of state, even if he was arrest before he had the chance, he'd probably hurt somebody in a struggle while being arrested. It amazed Izzy how a tragic thing like death could change someone so drastically. Of coarse, Izzy knew Mrs. Tendon was safe, but Mr. Tendon believed he had lost her forever. Izzy began to cry. "Oh God," she sobbed, "What am I going to do?"

Izzy did the only thing she could so, she continued to go to work everyday, doing hard labor. The labor was a horrible experience. It wasn't the work itself that bothered Izzy, but if she did something wrong was the case. If she didn't do something to Mr. Tendon's liking, then she would get beaten. What was the most difficult thing though was witnessing to Mr. Tendon. Izzy never broke her promise to Lacey Tendon, telling her husband of Jesus Christ. Mr. Tendon wouldn't hear of it though, and every time Izzy talked about salvation, Mr. Tendon broke into a violent rampage. This began to hurt Izzy, terribly. Many nights Izzy would come home broken in spirit, and would spend hours in her room. When her mother or father came to check on her to see if she was all right, she either complained of being fatigue or she'd say she had a headache. Izzy began to wear long clothing so nobody would notice the bruises or marks that were scattered about her arms, legs, and chest.
Life changed a lot for Izzy; she tried to avoid her parents, which wasn't hard at all. Seeing where they worked through most of the day. This made the Richardson's feel guilty, not spending enough time with their daughter, but it couldn't be helped. They were always struggling to keep up with the bills and the mortgage. However, trying to trick her friends into thinking she was OK was another matter entirely.
The six of them, Robin York, Justin William (or J.W as everybody knew him), Mart Mackenzie, Michael Jaeger, Alison Blitz, and Izzy, had known each other since kindergarten. Now that they were all in ninth grade, they could tell just by looking at one of them, and knew what they were feeling. Izzy had stayed up all night once trying to figure out a believable story to tell her friends. She knew that the five of them knew something was wrong, terrible. Izzy had started becoming quite, and her personality was dying quickly. This made the others worry, and it pained Izzy to see them this way. She prayed every night for heal of the spirit, but the more she continued to work, the more she continued to be slipping away from the dear Isabel Richardson everybody loved and knew. Something had to be done. That something was going to be done, no matter how terrible it was. Izzy was willing to do anything to stop this madness; she couldn't take it anymore. She had suffered for six months, and she couldn't do anything to ease the pain anymore. The plan she had put together seemed perfect, and that plan was to be put into action tonight.
Izzy stopped typing her email, she was done. She re-read the paragraph she had wrote. It was almost hard to believe that these words were her own.

Dear Mart, J.W, Alison. Mikey, and Robin,
I'm sorry dear friend if this comes as a shock, but these will be the last words you hear from me in this lifetime. I'm planning to end my life tonight. I just can stand any more pain or suffering. You all saw signs of this, and I shut you out before you discovered its roots. I love you all dearly; remember that always. Farewell for now. Love,

Izzy

She sighed as she clicked the send button. Soon her friends would be signing on-line for their weekly IM conversation, that's when they would each receive the email, and her plan would be fulfilled. Izzy opened her top right hand draw, and pulled out a bottle and a note she had written earlier. It was time.

"WHAT?!" Mart Mackenzie screamed out. He jumped up from his computer chair, turned around, and ran. "This is insane!" he said to himself, cold sweat pouring down his face and neck. He jumped the last few steps of his stair well and darted out the front door. Michael Jaeger, who just lived a few houses up the street, was running past Mart's house just as he had come out. "MIKEY!" Mart yelled out, grabbing his friend's shoulder as they met. Mikey stopped and stooped over, breathing heavily. "This can't be true!" He huffed out, tears we're beginning to slide down his tan cheeks, "What would make Izzy go over the edge so much that make her even think of suicide?" "I don't know Mikey, but lets go!" Mart tugged on his friend's shirt, and the both of them took off.
Mart's mind was in a million different places as they trailed on, thinking what event could of possible led to this. What awful secret did Izzy keep from them? "Oh you fool Mart!" he thought to himself "You should've pressed harder when she fell into that slump! Izzy never keeps things from you and the others! How could you have been so stupid?" Mart's mind was so deep in thought, that he didn't see the ditch that laid at the end of his road, and tripped. He winced in pain as he hit ground. Something bore into his right knee, and it hurt.
"Mart, you OK?" Mikey slid to a stop and held a hand out to his friend. Mart took it, gratefully. He winced again, pain shooting through out his knee as he put weight on it. Marts looked down and groaned. His leg, from his knee down, was covered with blood. A thorn stuck out of the side of his knee, and he could see blood trickling from it.
"Great, just great" Mart moaned as he bent down and plucked out the thorn. "Mart, that looks bad man." Mikey sigh, not sure what to do. "I don't care, let's just get to Izzy's place." Mikey nodded with understanding. The both of them ran off again. Mart limped, but he could run and that's all that mattered. At least this five minutes it didn't.