"Put that thing away before you hurt yourself, Madeline." Stan laughs, walking towards her.

"I mean it, Stan, I'll do it this time," she warns, shakily holding the gun out in front of her. She's threatened bodily harm a few times before but has always chickened out in the end.

"No, don't do it, Madeline," Marge screams.

Stan reaches out and takes her gun away. "Get me some lunch, woman, before I use this gun on you." Inspecting her weapon he continues, "How are you going to shoot me without any bullets?" Chuckling, he continues, "You can be a real idiot sometimes," he gives her a cold, degrading look, the way her daddy did when she was a young child. Like Katelyn, she too couldn't live up to her daddy's high standards and was often told as much.

Lowering her head, Madeline slowly trudges towards their kitchen.

"No Madeline, don't do it, let asshole fix his own lunch. It'd serve him right for treating you and Katie like crap," Marge says, stepping in front of her.

"I've had just about enough of your meddling, Marge. I want you to get out of my house and stay out, you got that?" Stan yells.

"It's Madeline's home too and she wants me to stay, right, Honey?"

Madeline looks up at her, tears in her eyes. "Please, just go." Madeline quietly replies. Frightened, she glances back at Stan.

"You got your answer, so go."

"If he even threatens to harm you, or Katie you call me, alright?"

Madeline shakes her head.

"You hurt one hair on their heads and I'll be back, Stan, whether you like it or not. I guarantee that my gun will be fully loaded and ready to go." Leaning over, she kisses her friend's cheek. "You and Katie are always welcome at my house," she whispers. Straightening up, she continues. "I want you to call me if he even threatens to harm you." Glaring at Stan, she stomps towards the door, spinning back around in their entryway. "I meant what I said Stan, one hair, just one little hair and I'll become your worst nightmare!"

"You don't scare me," Stan laughs.

Angry, Marge storms over to where he's standing. Pinning his plump body against the wall, she glares into his eyes. "Don't think for a second that I won't pull the trigger on your sorry ass, the way I did your friend, Jimmy."

Jimmy was Marge's first husband. Like Stan, he was very abusive. A little under a month into their marriage, Jimmy suddenly disappears. Marge told the police he went on a hunting trip and never returned. They didn't believe one word of her story, but couldn't find anything to dispute it.

Shoving him a second time, Marge walks out their door. I'm going to take care of you, the same way I did Jimmy, you just wait and see. Smiling, she strolls to her car.

***

Katie decides to move in with her fiancee soon after graduating from high school, leaving Madeline a lot of free time. She finds most of her day is spent wandering aimlessly around their house, trying to find something to do.

Her friend Marge says she's suffering from the empty nest syndrome and that she needs to find a hobby. Something that'll occupy her time, take her mind off the girls. She suggests finding something she's always dreamed of doing but didn't have time for when Katie and Katelyn were home.

Madeline still hasn't figured out what that might be. She did adopt a few stray kittens hoping that'd help fill the nurturing she missed so badly. It did help a little, but she still wishes her daughters were by her side.

I know, I'll clean our basement. God knows it needs tending to, she concludes. Happy she's found something to fill her time, she rushes down the steps. "Oh look, Katie's school work." As she's sorting through papers she realizes they're all marked A's. You've always been a bright one, she thinks, recalling all the awards she's received through the years. Her mind starts thinking back to when Katie was a toddler.

~~~

She was a short chunky baby, with big blue eyes and bright red hair. She had a pale complexion and a trail of freckles running from the bridge of her nose across her chubby cheeks. She can still picture her waddling across the yard, trying to keep up with her tall, thin sister.

"Wait me, sissy," Katie would yell, chasing her around the yard. Katelyn would pretend to trip and fall. The toddler would run over and plop down on top of her sister.

"Giddy up horsey," Katie would say, hopping up and down on top of her sibling.

"Hang on." Getting on all fours, Katelyn would trot her sister around their yard.

~~~

I miss those happier days, Madeline sadly concludes, shuffling through the box. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all. Sniffling, she puts the container on the shelf. She sees a stack of paintings in the far corner when she turns around. Rushing to them, she starts looking through the assortment.

Katelyn's psychiatrist suggested art therapy, hoping it'd help her express herself, give her an outlet for her emotions. Katelyn was all for the idea at first but tired of their project after a few months.

Katelyn and I spent hours creating these pictures, I really enjoyed it too. These are actually pretty good if I say so myself. 

She remembers selling her art to a few college professors. The money she made wasn't enough to pay for tuition, but it helped cover some of her other expenses.

Maybe that's what I should do, yeah, why not? Happy she's finally found something to fill her time, she bolts up the steps.

***

Stan is sitting on the couch when Madeline walks through their front door. Her arms are loaded down with shopping bags from various stores.

"What the hell is in all those bags?"

"Art supplies, Stan."

"Why did you buy all that junk for?"

"I'm going to take up painting, again."

"When did you ever paint?"

"When I was in college."

"That was years ago, Madeline." Stan laughs.

"I know it was, but I enjoyed it so much I thought I'd get back into it again. I figure it'll give me something to do in my spare time, now that Katie is gone."

"If you want something to do, why don't you get a job, earn your keep around here?"

"I do earn my keep, Stan! I cook, clean, do the shopping, laundry and..."

"Speaking of cooking, where's my dinner, woman?"

"I have it right here. It came from your favorite Italian restaurant."

"Well, this better not become a habit with you. I work hard and expect my supper on the table when I get home."

Their first year of marriage, Madeline discovers that if she keeps the house the way he likes, have supper on the table and does as she's told, he's less likely to hit her.

"I know you work hard dear, and it'll never happen again." He hasn't struck her since Marge's threat, but she doesn't want to push her luck.

"It better not," he yells, slamming his fist on the table.

She jumps backward. "It won't, I promise."

She's as scared as ever, he smiles. "So how much did all of this cost me?"

"Not a dime, I used my allowance for all of it including your supper."

"I'd like to eat my dinner before it gets too cold. Bring me a scotch too," he orders.

***

With Stan sleeping in his recliner and housework complete, Madeline tiptoes to their back porch. She's hoping to organize her art supplies, so she can start painting first thing in the morning. Once she gets the beast off to work.

How dare he say I haven't earned my keep around here. I've worked my butt off cooking and cleaning for this family, keeping it organized the way he likes. I even gave up my hopes and dreams for him. I quit a high paying job, just so I can stay home and be the wife and mother he expects me to be. I've done a lot for him over the years, put up with a lot too. Now the kids are grown, I deserve a chance at my dreams. Glancing into their front room, she sees the big tub-of-lard snoring peacefully in his recliner. This angers her more. "I know you think this is all a waste of time, but you just wait, Stan. One day my paintings will make it across the globe."

***

It's been nearly two weeks since Katelyn's release. When she isn't pounding the pavement looking for a job, she's in his dungeon pleasuring him. She hates the idea of being his sex slave, doing all the kinky stuff he's into, but it has perks too. Besides giving her a roof over her head and food in her stomach, he gives her a little spending money. Of course, she has to allow the pervert to perform various BDSM techniques on her. Although these acts are humiliating and often degrading, she needs money for basic necessities. She's even managed to buy some nice clothes at a local thrift store.

I only have a few days left, so I better make every interview count. She nervously steps into a convenience store.

"Hi, can I help you?" the manager asks.

"Yes, my name is Katelyn Howard and I'd like to apply for a job, please."

"Fill out an application and bring it back." he informs her.

"Can I fill it out here?"

"I suppose," he says, turning to his next customer. Within a few minutes, she's back at the counter.

"That was fast," he says, grabbing the piece of paper out of her hand.

"I couldn't tell you how many of these I've filled out in the past two weeks." She smiles.

He continues to scan her application. "You didn't put down anything in the work history section."

"I haven't been employed before."

"You've never had a job and you're twenty-six?" he asks suspiciously.

"I had a fiancee who wouldn't allow me to work." She knew it was a lame excuse, but it's the only plausible lie she can think of.

"I take it you're no longer together?"

"No, I caught him cheating on me with my best friend."

"Well, I'm sorry honey, but I need to hire someone who has experience."

"I'm a hard worker and I learn fast," she quickly blurts out.

"I wish I could hire you, I really do, but I don't have time to train someone new. See our night cashier walked out in the middle of her shift, so everyone is pulling doubles until I can replace her."

"Thank you, anyhow," she solemnly replies. She thinks about all of the others who've turned her down as she trudges across the store. Rage builds inside her the closer she gets to the door. No, I'm not leaving without a fight. Turning towards the manager, she yells; "For two damn weeks, I've been looking for work, but was refused because I don't have experience. How in the hell is someone supposed to get experience if no one is willing to give them a chance? I bet you didn't have experience either," she says, pointing at him. Glancing around, she sees his customers are watching. This is your chance, Katelyn, don't blow it now. With every bit of inner-courage she can muster, she continues, "I bet none of you had experience, first starting out, but your boss gave you an opportunity to prove yourself. That's all I'm asking for, one damn chance to prove that I can do it." The crowd claps.

"You tell'em sister," an older gentleman states.

Seeing the situation is getting out of control, the manager picks up his phone.

"Don't bother calling the cops, I'm leaving." Shoving the glass door open Katelyn storms outside. Her hostility turns to grief as she steps into the warm afternoon sun. "Why won't anyone give me a chance, why?" she bawls, plopping down on the wooden bench.