Arine King was a good daughter. She obeyed, she was orderly, and she did her chores before bed every night. And she had been trying extra hard to be a nice little girl ever since she over heard her parents talking last night. Arine couldn't sleep. She had wandered upstairs, deciding a glass if water would help settle her down. Just as she passed her parents bedroom, she heard a hissed whisper. She stopped to listen, and pressed her ear to the door. "What are you trying to say?!" Her father. "I can't do this anymore, John" "Yes you can! You're not trying hard enough." "I am! I am trying! I can't do it" Her mother dissolved in tears, and Arine frowned. What was going on? "I'm getting worse every day, John. I'm afraid I'll hurt her." "You'd hurt your own daughter?! She's only eleven!" Her mother sobbed. "Help me, John! I'm slipping to the edge..." She heard drawers rattle. "Jeanine!" Her father shouted. "You're SICK!" Arine heard he father slap his wife. She cried out and collapsed on the floor. "Why won't you help me? Why do you hurt me more?" She whispered, pain clear in her voice. "You're a monster" He exclaimed, disgusted. "You only hurt those around you. I've tried to help you, but you can't stay here anymore, Jeanine." Arine listened intently, but the conversation was over, except for her mother's quiet weeping. Opinions? :3
The next morning, Arine was sitting at the kitchen table eating her breakfast when her father stormed into the kitchen. "Arine, come. We must leave before your mother awakens. Go pack your things. I'll be waiting in the car." He walked out the front door, and it slammed behind him. She gaped, and put her fork on her plate. She cautiously walked to her parents' bedroom, thinking about the conversation she had overheard last night. What was wrong with her mother? Why did they have to leave her? Arine pushed open the bedroom door and looked inside. No one was here. She walked into the bathroom and gasped. Her mother lay asleep on the floor, her wrists bloodied and cut. Small pools of blood lay around both hands. She stared, horrified. "Ma?" She whispered. Louder. "Ma?" Her mothers eyes snapped open. She screamed and picked up the knife that lay a little away from her. "Get away from me!" Her mother screeched. Arine backed away, and bumped into her father as he made his way into the room. "Arine!" He shouted, and scooped her into his arms, kicking the knife out of Jeanine's hand. "I told you to pack your things" he scolded and shut the doors behind him. He rushed into her bedroom and packed clothes and a few toys. He then walked out to the car, set her in and then walked to the front. As they drove away, she stared back at the house she knew held her hysterical mother. "What's happening?" She whispered, but her father either didn't hear, or chose not to answer.