Ziva sat on the branch of the tree, listless eyes surveying the garden below her. Barely eleven she was in charge of her baby sister. Their mother had died several months ago and her father wanted little to do with the vulnerable five year old. Tali meant the world to her. She was so perfect. She was small for her age. Her eyes were always dazzling, a deep brown like her own and her hair was long. They looked very similar, everyone said so but there was one key difference. Ziva's eyes didn't dazzle. They hadn't been that way since long before the death of her mother. Her eyes locked onto her father. He was leering at her from the upstairs window. He was not smiling proudly onto his talented eldest daughter instead he was frowning at her, imagining ways she could screw up that night. They had important guests coming round. Naturally she was allowed to know nothing. She was just to serve them. She was just to be their show pony.
"Zee Zee," Tali called from below.
Ziva dropped from the branch, balancing quickly before inspecting her sister. She looked her over in a moment. The child had come to no harm.
"What is it?" Ziva snapped. She had not meant it. Tali knew this.
"It is almost time," She whispered.
Tali knew what this meant even at her young age. When Eli's guests came to visit it was never a good thing. Ziva lifted her sister and carried her up to their shared room. Sharing was not a necessity, they had money but Ziva preferred to keep a trained eye on her sister, especially after what had happened to her mother. Ziva stroked the child's head, kissed her before shutting the door over. She wanted Tali away from Eli's wrath if something went wrong. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair was left loose, trailing around her belly button. Carefully she inspected around the visible skin. There were no bruises or cuts shown. She could not seem vulnerable or weak on front of her father's guests.
She invited them in. There were seven of them in total, five guests and two security guards. Ziva sent them into the dining room where they all took a seat. She had prepared a meal upon her father's request. Only once her father was seated and had given her the signal did she bring on the meal. The large pot of soup was heavy, far too heavy for a little girl. She was sure she could carry it. Ziva was used to lifting much heavier things. She entered the dining room holding the pot carefully with both hands. That was when it had all gone wrong. She tripped and the weight became too much. The boiling soup fell to the floor with a loud crash, burning her bare legs. She gritted her teeth and looked up to Eli. He glared at her, rage evident in his gaze.
"Papa I am sorry," She whispered. He got up, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the kitchen. She began to plead, tears prickling in her eyes. "Papa I am so so sorry. It was an accident. Papa!"
He began to beat her. She could feel the coppery taste in her mouth as the blood began to pour from every gash. She wanted to fight back but it would only make it worse. He yanked back her hair, securing her head with his arm and her arms with his other.
"I warned you Ziva," he sneered, "You have embarrassed me once more."
He pushed her towards the hall. She was to go up to her room. She knew the drill by now. If he saw her face before the cuts and bruises were gone she would wish she was never born. Ziva looked at him with the pleading eyes of a daughter. She had tried so hard. She couldn't help it that she was not strong enough to lift it. That didn't matter to him. It never did.