/I don't own anything you recognize in this story. /

Chapter Four

She was home again, back to the horses and her father degrading her. Samara looked up skeptically at the barn with her parents standing on each side of their child. After several moments, Samara turned and looked up at her mother.

"Do I have to go in there?" Samara asked, knowing what the answer was going to be. She knew they were going to yes, she had to and that she had no choice in the matter.

Anna looked desperately up at her husband. She couldn't take this anymore, her daughter having to stay in the barn by herself and being scared with no motherly or fatherly love. But all Richard gave her was a cold, stern look. He was giving Samara any leeway because he was the man of the house and what goes, went.

"Samara, sweetheart, you have to go in there because that's your bedroom. I know how you feel about the matter, but we don't have any room in the house for you," Anna said.

Samara stared up at her mother. "Mommy, I love you. I think you love me, too."

"Of course I do, sweetie, why would you doubt me?" Anna asked.

"Because if you loved me, mommy, I wouldn't go to the white room, and I wouldn't live in the barn where the horses keep me awake," Samara stated.

Richard looked around at the barnyard, pulling his cloak around him tighter. His gaze drifted off towards the pasture where the horses were grazing. How could such gentle animals be torture and agony to a person? He didn't know and he really didn't want to.

Anna crumbled to the ground in front of Samara. "I'm sorry, Samara. I can't help it; it's all so stressful. But I have to obey your father, like you have to obey him. We're both in the same boat."

"I understand, Mommy. He doesn't like much of anything," Samara stated.

Richard had enough. He strode over to Samara and slapped her hard across the face. The girl fell down and quickly scrambled up again and backed away. Richard breathed hard, feeling his anger welling up in him.

"Don't you dare say that, Samara!" he yelled. "That's not true—nothing you say's ever true. Maybe that's why the doctors have enough of you and I hate you so!"

Tears welled up in Samara's eyes. How could he say this? She should expect something like this from the man, but it still hurt nonetheless. Her life was miserable because of him.

"Now, go to your room, Samara. I don't want to look at you another moment," Richard said, glaring at Samara.

"I won't!" she yelled and turning on her heel, she ran as fast as she could past the barn and deep into the fields past the horses, disappearing into the distance.

"Samara!" Anna called out, sobbing and began to get up, about to follow after her daughter before Richard grabbed her on the shoulder.

"Not yet. Let her make her think that she's safe for now—and then, we strike," Richard said in a low voice.

"What are you saying?" Anna whispered. "What do you mean, 'we strike'?"

Richard forced Anna to look up at him. "All these long years I've put up with her and I don't think I can handle one more day with her."

Anna's eyes widened as she realized what Richard was meaning to do. "You can't, Richard. Please, no. I've wanted her, I've waited long years for my own child and you can't destroy her."

"If you love me, you will do this for me, Anna. Don't I have more love than you give to your daughter, Samara?" Richard asked.

Anna fell silent, thinking. She loved Richard, or at least, she thought she loved Richard. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she loved Samara more than she ever did for her own husband. But did she have any other choice? How could she save her own daughter? But what was the point, when her daughter was suffering at the hands of the man?

"Do you or do you not love me more than Samara?" Richard repeated.

"I guess my only option is yes, I do love you more than Samara since you'll do nasty things to me if I say otherwise," Anna stated.

"You're right. At least you'll have your horses. Now, wait here a moment," Richard exclaimed and went to the car. When he turned around again, he was holding a black trash bag.

"What's that for, Richard?" Anna asked, with a horrible sinking in the pit of her stomach.

"What do you think it is for, Anna, dear?" Richard said.

Anna turned her face away. "To kill my daughter."

"That's right. Now I want you to go find Samara, and I'll be several hundred feet behind you to make sure that you do your duty. Will you fail me?" Richard asked.

"No" was the simple answer and Richard nodded in satisfaction. He was finally going to get rid of this girl once and for all.

Samara's voice was ringing out through the fields while she was looking down into the well. She was singing a song that Anna had sung to her when Samara was little and still did sometimes.

Anna watched the girl for several minutes. She was so innocent, standing there in the sunshine with her white shift dress and her long, flowing black hair down past her waist. Anna had always loved that hair and was sickened that she would never see this beautiful little girl of hers anymore.

Anna walked quietly behind her daughter and placed her hands on Samara's shoulders. Her daughter stopped singing immediately and Anna wished that she hadn't.

"That was beautiful singing, child. I used to have that same beautiful voice as you. Maybe you'll continue you on and become famous someday," Anna said lovingly.

Samara had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was something wrong here. Mommy never sounded like this, so—constricted. What did she want? Hopefully it wasn't on the behalf of her father, because her father never meant well.

The sunshine was too bright; way too bright and only one or two birds still continued singing. Something wasn't right.

"All I ever wanted was you," Anna whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. "All I ever wanted was you."

Quickly before Samara could react, Anna whipped out the plastic bag and held it over Samara's face tightly. After several minutes, Anna quickly pushed her daughter down the well. It was done and Anna turned away from the well, her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her dear, beloved daughter—gone and Anna were unable to protect her anymore.

A shadow blocked out the sun and Anna looked up to see Richard standing over her. He had a grim smile on his face, one of grim satisfaction. As she looked at him, Anna couldn't help but feel blunt hatred for what he had made her do to her daughter.

"It is done and you did the right thing, Anna. No more bills for the doctors, no trying to feed her—nothing. It's over now. Do not worry, wife, she's in a better place now," Richard said and he went over to Anna, wrapping his arms around her. "How about we go out for dinner tonight?"

Before Anna could answer, he clasped her firmly on her shoulders and led her back to the house to get cleaned up for town.