"I know it's an experience I need to have if God's putting me through it."

The light, instantaneously, emerged out of the screen as I opened the laptop. I squatted down on my mid-back chair and put the laptop on the desk in front of it. I smiled when I opened my mail and saw a message from Rachel. She's the only friend I have. I never met her in real life, though, since she lived in another country. I've initially encountered her on Facebook- before I closed my account due to the abundantly mean comments that the girls in my class were leaving. I remember Rachel sticking up for me and saying how "beautiful" I was. She did it without knowing me. Afterwards, we became friends and mailed each other regularly. She unburdened me and became the only one who knew my tribulation and actually cared.

I clicked on the message and read it voluntarily. She was telling me about how her dad was always at work and how she misses him desperately. This was another thing we had in common; our fathers were constantly working. The only difference is that her father actually loved her. She ended her message asking about me and encouraging me to stay strong.

I was just about to reply and tell her about what happened this morning when Mary, suddenly, opened my bedroom's door. She didn't knock, unlike her habit. I cocked my head to look back at the door. She was weeping. Tears were soaring down her face and her cheeks were flushed.

'What happened?' I asked anxiously.

She raised her left hand and rubbed her eyes to try and calm herself to the point of speaking 'my toy.'

'What happened to your toy?'

'It fell down the basement' she finally managed to say.

I sighed.

'Trivina let's go get it please please' she begged- still crying.

'But sweetie, you know we can't.'

We never went down the basement. It wasn't permitted, because my father took it as his office. He set the regulations straight that none of us is allowed to go downstairs under any condition. He said it was because his office had unduly salient files that would be menaced if anyone got near it, ostensibly even if that "anyone" is a member of his family.

This was reminiscent of when I was just eight years old and my natural urge as a kid wanted to explore the unknown. So I went down the basement, making sure to be assiduous and to stay away from anything fragile. And when I was caught- by my dad- he restrained me from having dinner for six days in a row.

'Trivina' my sister yelled.

'What' I didn't realize I was plunging into my thoughts

'Won't we go and get it?'

'How about you go and ask father first?'

'If I did he'll say that it's my fault that it fell in the first place.'

She was right. However, things will be worse if he sees us. I would've stood firm on NO! But her little ocean blue eyes staring at me was too much to handle. She left me no choice but to assuage her.

We tiptoed on the stairs warily for it to not creak. And when we were just in front of the cloistered basement stairs I asked Mary, 'can't we just bring another toy, Mary?'

She shook her head.

Step by step we went down in halting moves, I was still jittery. I knew that my father wasn't in the basement, so that poured a little bit of courage on my doubtful instinct. As we went further the cropped image of the basement started to appear fully. It was like putting the last piece on the puzzle. The toy was right beside the stairs, this is going to be easy.

My jaw dropped when we were utterly in the basement. My dad really considered this as his office, I realized. Regardless of the brick wall, there was everything that you would see in a proper office: a desk, a leather chair, framed photos of him in the military, a couple of certificates, tons of files, a laptop, drawers, and the most thing that captured my eyes, a gun. It was black and surrounded by ammunition. It sat remote on the edge of the desk.

By that time, Mary had grabbed her toy. But, I didn't even notice because of the state of astonishment I was in. I never knew that there was a gun in our house- which is imbecile of me. My dad works in the military of course he'll have a gun in his office!

As I continued to stare at the place, I heard a voice from behind me. I recognized that it wasn't Mary's. The hair on the back of my neck bristled and my breath became shallower. I turned around slowly to see my father. His arms were crossed and exasperation had filled his face. His brown thick mustache veiled half of his grimace.

'What the hell are you both doing here?' he asked in a firm tone.

Mary clutched my hand. She only did that when she was scared. She looked up at me to see what I was going to say.

I attempted to swallow the fear that suppressed me from replying.

'I said what the hell are you both doing here?' He snarled again but, before I could reply.

This was ludicrous. I shouldn't have agreed to Mary's command. 'Mary's toy fell here when she was playing and she told me that we don't have to go and bring it but I insisted on doing so. It's not her fault.' I recounted.

He muttered then said 'you will be facing disciplinary action.'

Disciplinary action? Seriously? Can't he comprehend that he's not at work anymore?

'No dinner for the next ten days and I'm taking your cellphone and laptop, Trivina.' He said

Mary looked at the floor in disappointment. I didn't care about what he just said, I'm seventeen now, all I cared about was Mary.

He beckoned towards the stairs, still crossing his arms. I started walking while Mary's hand is still gripped to mine. When we were just beside him he grabbed Mary's toy, that she was carrying in her other hand. Her face went blanch when he took it. He cracked it in half right in front of her eyes then said, 'and no toy for you, Mary.'

Mary broke down into tears; this was her brand new toy. I wanted to stand up for her but I knew this will worsen the situation. I held Mary into my arm and went up the stairs. When I stepped out, I saw my mother standing next to the basement. Her black hair was down and she was holding a mug of coffee in her hands. She obviously heard what just happened. She mouthed to me, 'you shouldn't have went downstairs in the first place.' I didn't answer her, instead I strode towards Mary's room. She was always on my father side, always. I have no idea why. I don't think he was kind to her either. She was never like, 'John, take it easy on them. They are your daughters at the end.'

I press on the knob and open Mary's bedroom door. She's still crying non-stop. I deposit her on her small pink chair and hug her tightly.

'How about- how about we play with your dolls? I'll be Ken and you'll be Barbie.' I knew the ennui that came with this offer. However, I still suggested to try and soothe her.

'No, Trivina, I want this specific toy.' she roared.

It took some time to calm her down. At least he wasn't abusive...this time.

Note: guys this book reached #853 in General Fiction!!! I'm soooo happy thank you so much♥

Also, tell me what you think of the length of the chapters. I was thinking about making it a little longer.