"Bike,” I ordered. The evening was getting later, so I needed something quick to eat. Of course, my father likes to leave it up to me to do all of the cooking. "Ice cream?" He suggested without hesitating a second. I got out the frozen dessert, and quickly mixed it in with the ingredients while he washed the dishes. I didn't like doing dishes. I always managed to find something to do, so it was easy for me to avoid them. I didn't want him to get upset with me, however, and I didn't know if he would be if I added to the work. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. I stopped at ten dishes and put the bowl away and placed a spoon in front of him. "Well," he sighed to himself. He had given up washing the dishes. "I definitely don't look like a super soldier." The only time I had seen him use his super soldier powers was when he was angry. He was always willing to help me in any way he could whenever I was lost. He has been very helpful throughout my life. I wish I could have his super soldier powers, too. Eat your ice cream.” I said to him. It was just something to say, and I knew he wouldn't mind. He scooped up his ice cream and took a bite. He grimaced. "I'm not too good at this.” He complained. "We can always call the cops and go to the drive through” I said. "I would rather pay for it in cash." "No,” my father responded. "It will be faster this way. Smarter, too." I chuckled slightly, but I knew he was right. He always was.
When we finished eating, I washed the dishes, and he went to call the police. I made sure the front door was locked and I went upstairs to the second floor. I threw my dirty clothes into a bin, and they soon spilled out in a pile. There were so many dirty clothes. I decided to put them in the laundry basket. I turned on a few lights until the whole apartment was lit up. I placed my foot on a plastic garbage bag and pulled it back, nearly tripping over myself. I decided to leave the clothes and go to bed. I wanted to go ahead of my dad, because I didn't want him to work too hard. I had always wanted super strength, super speed, and super hearing. I put my basketball down, and I looked out of the window. The stars seem to sparkle like diamonds, but they were just stars. Nothing, no matter how small and insignificant, could compare to the impression they have made on me.
I closed the blinds and climbed into bed. I pulled the covers over me and turned my head towards the wall. I closed my eyes, and the images started flowing into my head. I could see my father's true form. His super soldier powers had allowed him to see my thoughts, but he did not condemn me for having them. He would always look into my eyes, into my soul and tell me, "You are my daughter. I love you. You will always be my little girl." "I love you, too." I had responded with a smile. I imagined him as a super soldier with a mask on his face, but I pictured myself in a hideous monster. He would always laugh when I said this. I always loved hearing him laugh. It was like music. "You are not a monster." He would always say in response. I know he meant this. I always wanted to believe it, but I knew I couldn't. I knew that I was different, even if I didn't know what was different. Something felt wrong about me. I barely knew the voices and the people inside of my head. "There is nothing wrong about you." I reassured myself. "This is how everyone was born."
I think I drifted to sleep in the middle of the night. I was awakened by a sound. I strained my ears to hear what it was. A moan. Someone was moaning. It was my father. He was in pain. I could hear a loud whine. Something was broken. I could tell by the pained voice of my father. Was it my mind? Was I hearing a bad image of him in pain? Was I imagining all of this? I did not know. But I knew that I would have to be the one to help him. I got up out of bed and opened the door. My dad was on the floor by the refrigerator, screaming in pain. I could see blood coming from him. Someone had broken his leg. I heard the scuffling of footsteps coming closer. I knew I could not let them get my father before I could stop them. I closed the door behind me, and I went straight for the living room door. I opened the door and closed it behind me, blocking them from there, too. I saw their faces. They were business men, wearing suits. They surprised me. "We're here to see an award-winning author." One of them discussed, obviously assuming I was the one who received the apartment. I felt conspicuously visible as I blended into shadows and stayed out of their view.
"Open this door." One of them said, his voice cracking due to his pain. I saw a crew cut with thick black frames cover his pale, pimple-covered face. The other one was in rimmed glasses, and he had a clipboard in hand. He looked like a dork. I could tell by his voice. He was friendly in the beginning, but when the first man failed to gain the access he had requested, he snapped, "Open it, or we'll have to break it open." "I am sorry, but this is private property, and I will not open this door for public property." I said, my voice cracking due to the excitement and fear I was feeling. "It no longer is private property." The other man said, this time with a louder, more authoritative voice. "It has been appropriated by the U.S. government for various uses. We are here to make sure that the property is in good working order." I did not understand what this could mean. I knew what the government did. It was what my father told me, but I did not understand why the government would suddenly appropriate an apartment. I was confused. "The U.S. government,” I repeated. "You mean the president of the United States." I questioned. "No. the government." It was clear that he did not like to be corrected. "The president is under the control of the government, not the other way around." He answered. "This is a matter of national security." He said. "Well, this is a matter of personal security, not national." I countered. "Yeah, right." The stranger who had caught my father came into the doorway. He was a white man. "Give us your apartment, and we will give you this whole neighborhood. Everything you need will be provided for you. I have to admit, though, I am quite intrigued by what you have said."
I was reluctant to trust these men. While I could tell by their voices that they would lead me down a dark path, I could also tell by my father's voice that I could not leave him there. I would not leave him there. I would so anything to help him. I looked into the stranger's eyes, and I saw his true killer intent. I could tell that he was extremely angry or upset.
