Cheyenne Hart wiped her hands on a cloth on the counter and grabbed her glass full of water. She walked back over to the table and sat back down next to her father, Brock. She picked up her pencil again and started writing. She looked up as she heard her father pouring some kind of alcoholic beverage into a champagne glass. He was already a bit buzzed, so he didn't notice. He set the bottle on the floor and took a sip out of the glass. "You doing homework?" he asked.

Cheyenne nodded without looking up, trying to ignore the awful stench of whatever her father was drinking. Brock took another sip and looked at the textbook. "History?" Cheyenne nodded again. Brock leaned forward and caught a glimpse down Cheyenne's black nightgown. He smirked. "You know, I was always good at history... I could help you."

Cheyenne shook her head. "I'm fine. Thanks, though," she said quietly.

Brock sat silently for a moment, then moved Cheyenne's hand, taking her pencil. "No, really... let me help." With her hand moved, he saw full cleavage.

Cheyenne, frustrated, slammed her history book shut and stood up. She grabbed for her pencil, but Brock gripped her wrist. "Hey, come on..." he muttered, staring at the nightgown.

Cheyenne glared at him and yanked her wrist away. Brock jumped up. "I AM YOUR FATHER, YOUNG LADY!"

Cheyenne shook her head and started to walk away, but Brock grabbed her arms. Cheyenne gasped. "Hey!" The book fell out of her hands.

Brock turned her around and smacked her across the face. She squeaked and grabbed her cheek. "Do you know how stupid you're being right now? I offered to HELP you!"

"I don't need your help!" Cheyenne snapped.

This infuriated Brock. He shook her violently and swiped everything off the table. Cheyenne screamed, as she knew what was coming. Her father threw her down onto the table and started to unzip his pants.

"Dad, no! Please!" Cheyenne begged helplessly.

Brock spread his daughter's legs apart. "You're getting it now." He let his pants fall to the floor.

Cheyenne's eyes welled up with tears. "Dad... no..."

Brock moved forward and thrust inward, ignoring his daughter's poor, defenseless cries for help.

OoO

Nearly an hour later, Cheyenne walked into the room she shared with her younger sister, Kyra. Her face was pale, and emoiton didn't dare come across it, not even sadness or anger. Kyra lay on her bed, drawing something on her sketch pad. Cheyenne silently walked over to her bed and sat down, staring at the floor.

"I heard," Kyra said quietly.

Cheyenne kept staring at the floor. "I... I knew you would."

Kyra set her pencil down and sat up on her bed. "Yesterday was my turn... today was yours, I guess."

Cheyenne slowly nodded. "Yep..."

Kyra felt so sorry for her older sister. For three years, it had been an almost-daily thing. You think they'd be used to it by now, but it was just something you don't get used to. Kyra was only fourteen, and Cheyenne was only seventeen. They lived in a pretty remote area, so no matter how loudly they screamed, no one was going to rescue them.

After about five minutes, Cheyenne stood up. "Ugh, I gotta get out of here."

Kyra jumped up. "I'm coming, too."

Cheyenne sighed. "Fine."

Kyra followed Cheyenne into the living room. Their father was sitting on the couch watching a football game and pouring himself a glass of vodka. They walked right past him and out the front door. He never even noticed.

Cheyenne and Kyra started down the little dirt path that led up to their house. The walk was almost deathly silent. Cheyenne definitely didn't want to talk about what had happened, and Kyra knew exactly how she felt, so she wasn't going to dare ask Cheyenne anything about it. There was really nothing to say. There never was.

About a mile and a half down the path, there was a little cemetary. That's where their mother, Reba Hart was buried. She had died of cancer three years ago. That was when their father had started doing... those things to them. They had actually been pretty close with their father before Reba had died. Something had just snapped inside of him, and out came this monster. Cheyenne and Kyra always liked to go down to the cemetary and talk to their mother after Brock was finished with them.

About thirty minutes later, the girls reached the cemetary. It was very small, with only about ten graves. They came upon the grave of Reba Nell Hart. Cheyenne knelt down next to it and tears filled her eyes. Kyra knelt down next to her sister and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The wind was picking up, and thunder was rumbling in the distance. They'd have to make this quick.

Cheyenne sighed. "M-Mama, I... I just don't know anymore..." She wiped her eyes with her denim dress. "I just don't know." She started weeping. "Mama, Daddy's a bad man! Why did you have to leave us here with him? Why? !" Cheyenen broke down right then and there, grabbing her mother's headstone. "Why?"
Lightning flashed across the sky. Something popped in the distance, meaning cloud-to-ground. Kyra shook Cheyenne a little. "Cheyenne... we have to go. Now."

Cheyenne shook her head. "Just... why?" Mascara was running down her face.

Kyra stood up. "Cheyenne..." She held her hand out. Cheyenne looked up and just stared at it. She slowly, carefully took Kyra's hand, as if it was fragile. Kyra gave her best smile. "We'll get-"

CRACK!
POP!
Tornado sirens were heard. The house was remote, but sirens could still be heard clearly. The severe thunderstorm alarm was like an alarm clock, just kept beeping. The tornado alarm was to be taken very seriously. It almost never went off. It was just a neverending reeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Cheyenne and Kyra looked at the sky. It was very, very black, the blackest they'd ever seen it. This frightened Cheyenne as the wind picked up harder and harder. Lightning cracked again, and thunder boomed. Cheyenne grabbed Kyra's hand. "Let's go!" They started running as fast as their feet would take them back down the path. The sky seemed to grow darker with each passing second. The wind blowing against them burned their eyes, but they didn't care. They were all alone out there in a possible tornado.

It had only been about ten minutes, but it seemed like hours before they reached their house. Just as they got there, they stopped and watched in utter horror as a black cloud dipped down to touch the ground. An ear-piercing train-like roar filled the dusty air. The funnel started kicking up dust and moving rapidly toward the house. Cheyenne and Kyra darted inside and to the living room. Kyra looked at the TV. Radar was showing all sorts of red hook-like things. One was right over their little town of Checotah.

"Dad, wake up! Wake up!" Cheyenne screamed, violently shaking her father's unconcious body. A champagne glass that had been sitting on his chest fell to the floor and shattered. Kyra slowly turned around and watched her sister start beating their father's chest. "Dad! Wake up!"

Brock groaned loudly. "Shut up..." He raised his hand and knocked Cheyenne in the nose with the bottom of his wrist. Cheyenne was knocked backwards, nearly to the floor. For a minute, she was dazed, but she was startled out of this when the window behind her shattered open. She rushed back to her father and started hitting him again. "DAD! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! DAD! PLEASE!"

"Leave him!" Kyra yelled over the wind.

Cheyenne made a face and looked up at her sister. "Kyra!" she snapped. "That's an awful thing to say!"

"Cheyenne!" Kyra yelled. "Remember an hour ago? When he was taking everything you had but your groin itself? ! He did it to me yesterday, and he'll do it again tomorrow! You know he will! Let's stop it! Let's leave him!"

"Kyra-" Cheyenne stopped herself. Kyra had a point...

Wait- what was she doing? She wasn't seriously considering murder! Was she? It DID make sense. Cheyenne wanted the pain to stop. She didn't deserve it, and Kyra definitely didn't. And it wouldn't just be murder... it would be revenge.

Cheyenne shook her dad once more. "Dad..." She shook him again, and he still didn't move.

She sighed and looked up at Kyra. "Kyra... let's..." She took one last look down at her father and shut her eyes, letting the tears flow. She looked up at Kyra. "RUN!"

The two girls raced back through the house and out the front door. The wind nearly knocked them down. Cheyenne grabbed Kyra's wrist and pulled as hard as she could. After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to the cellar door. Cheyenne grabbed the handle and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. She screamed, "KYRA! HELP ME!"
Kyra grabbed the handle and pulled with her sister. Finally, they got the door to come open. Cheyenne shoved Kyra inside and then went inside herself. The door slammed shut. Cheyenne grabbed the steel lock and locked it. The roar of the wind was deafening as the twister moved right over them.

She turned around to look at Kyra. "We... we left him..."

Kyra nodded as she fell onto the bed. "Yeah... we... we did..."

A loud crackling noise came, then the noise of the house being destroyed swept over them. Cheyenne's eyes snapped shut and she covered her ears. She slid down to the floor and just started screaming. Kyra grabbed the pillow off the bed and rolled over, putting it over her head. The noise never seemed to end, and it just got louder... and louder... and louder... and louder...

OoO

The sound of banging awoke Cheyenne from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around. It took her only a second to realize where she was. She looked down; she had fallen asleep on the cellar floor. She slowly, groggily sat up. "Hey! Anyone in there?" It was a man's voice.

Cheyenne looked at the cellar door. "Uh... yeah..." She stood up and caught her balance. "Uh..."

"Who is it?" asked Kyra, who had fallen asleep on the bed. She slowly sat up.

Cheyenne shrugged and unlocked the door. The bright daylight burnt her eyes for a second. She held a hand over her eyes and faced the Checotah sheriff. She waved. "Hi... can we help you?"

"Hello, ma'am," he greeted. "Uh... I'm sorry to say that I believe your house was taken in the storm last night."

Cheyenne nodded, the events of the night before coming back to her. "Oh... well..." Then it must've taken him too. "That's too bad."

The sheriff nodded. "Yeah, it really is. A bunch of houses were taken last night. The tornado was a very strong EF-4. It blew away just about everything in its path."

Kyra appeared next to Cheyenne at the door, trying to hide a smile. "Our house is gone? That means all my dollies are gone!" She covered her face. The smile refused to stay hidden.

The sheriff looked down. "Yeah... is there anyone else in there with you?"

"Uh, no," Cheyenne responded, wiping some hair from her face. "It's just us."

The sheriff nodded. "Do you girls have a legal guardian?"

"No, I'm twenty-three," Cheyenne lied. "This is my little sister. She lives with me because our father is... uh..."

"In the military," Kyra finished.

The sheriff nodded. "Oh, okay then. Well I just wanted to see if anyone had survived last night. You girls need a ride back to town?"

"No thanks," Cheyenne replied. "We walk mostly every day, we'll just walk again today." She smiled.

The sheriff asked, "Do you have any relatives around here?"

"Tons," said Cheyenne. "We'll be fine." She smiled.

The sheriff nodded. "Well... as long as you're gonna be okay. Nice talking to you ladies. Stay safe." He walked off.

"Bye!" Cheyenne and Kyra called, giving a friendly wave.

After the sheriff's car was out of sight, the girls walked out of the cellar. They looked at the spot where their house used to be. Even the floor had been uprooted. Kyra couldn't help but grin. "Cheyenne, it took him! Dad is gone!" She wrapped her sister in a hug.

Cheyenne kept staring at the spot. "Yeah... he is... he's... gone isn't he?" She was just dazed. She had actually murdered her father.

Then, unexpectedly, a smile spread across her face, and she looked down at her little sister. "He's gone! He's gone!"

They squealed together and started jumping around right there, right in the emptiness that they used to live in. It was finally over... they were finally free. Never again would they beaten or abused. They were finally... okay.

A/N: I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THAT! ! ! Lol that was kinda hard to write... really dark isn't it? Lol I would really appreciate some reviews because, ya know, they're just so lovable.:) And I wanna know how I did on this. I think it's actually kinda good... unlike most of my stuff. But that could be just me. Review? 3