Elena
Elena methodically stirred the contents of the dark pot as she watched her sisters play through the window. They were running around and laughing without a care in the world. Meanwhile, she was stuck making dinner since her mother had gone into town.
"Elena!" A harsh voice rang through the small house. "Get in here!"
She jumped down from the stool and quickly rushed towards the only bedroom. "Yes?" Elena hesitantly approached the side of the bed when she noticed the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri Derevko struggled to sit up, his head swimming with the effects of alcohol. "Come here." He roughly grabbed the child's arm and pulled her closer. "Where is your mother?" When Elena struggled, he only tightened his grip. "She was supposed to be back fifteen minutes ago. Is she meeting with someone?"
Elena's nose wrinkled as the smell of vodka permeated her senses. "Otets, please, I don't know." She cried when his hand burned a path across her face.
"Don't lie to me!" Yuri shouted, shaking her. "Where is she?"
Iskra strode through the doorway and gasped, dropping a few packages on the floor. "Let her go!"
Elena started sobbing when her father threw her roughly to the floor and turned on Iskra, striking her. "Stop!" she shouted. Elena watched in horror as Yuri continued to scream and curse in Russian, knocking her mother to the ground.
"Yuri, stop. You're drunk." Iskra struggled for air when his boot collided with her stomach.
Elena quickly looked around for something useful. Her gaze fell to Yuri's old Army knife and she grabbed it, unsure of what she should do. They had never had a fight this awful. She watched as Yuri's fist smashed into Iskra's face, cheekbone shattering under the force, and Elena didn't hesitate.
Lifting the knife above her head, it seemed like there was someone else controlling her movements. She could hear her father cry out as the blade landed deep in his back. Elena yanked the knife out, blood spilling onto the floor, and then drove it through him again. She watched with fascinated horror as her father fell into a pool of his own blood, gasping for breath.
Iskra dragged herself towards Yuri and watched as the light rapidly faded from his eyes. She then turned to Elena, a wave of nausea taking over. Blood stained her hands and clothes. "What have you done?" she whispered.
A small smile formed and Elena couldn't stop staring at the knife sticking from Yuri's back. It was over. They would never have to endure another one of his beatings again. She calmly brushed a piece of long black hair from her face, not caring that blood smeared across her face. Elena looked at her mother and the smile grew bigger. "It's okay, Mamochka. He will never hurt you again."