MP BABY!

I could smell the whiskey on his breath. He ran past me and picked up Brooke by her wrist. She threw her head back and her short brown hair reached for the floor. The screams from my mother were drowned out by my fathers cussing to shut Brooke up. He tossed her in the air and grabbed one of her legs, shaking her. Her head bounced up and down into her chest, and her arms flew around limp as could be. He then threw her onto the bed. Her weak arms could not protect her body from the man running his hands down her sides and up her legs.
“Get in here!”
I drowned out my emotions, looked at the floor, and did what I was told, just as I had done many times before.
He told us to take off our Sunday dresses. I was powerless to defend myself, and so as always I slowly removed my white tights with runs on the insides. Next, the ratted dress that had been passed down for generations.
Each of my sisters had loved that dressed, but I hated it. The blue ribbon on the lower back was so wrinkled and the bottom of the dress, with its fringes came awkwardly above my knees (I had always been taller then my sisters).
I was a few years older then Brooke and had been in her position many times before. She was not new to the ritual, but the fact was starting to kill both of us inside.
I grabbed her hand, and she intertwined her fingers with mine. She looked at me with her greyish green eyes and I knew someday I would have to be the one to save her.