8

WILLOW

I marched into the living room, as expected, finding my dad dressed up but sitting down to adjust his radio. I walked up to him and faced him, but he treated like I wasn't even visible. All he cared about was his damn radio.

I snatched the radio away from him, and he looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

"My radio, please," he finally spoke to me after four long years of pretending he was dumb, fooling me. I felt stupid.

"Oh, this..." I gestured, moving it closer to him. He shot me a wide smile, and that was it. With all my strength, I smashed it to pieces, throwing it across the room. He stood up, his eyes growing wide in disbelief and shock.

"Have you gone mad?!" he yelled at the top of his voice, adding petrol to the fire.

"So, those are your first words to me? Now you talk to me because of a dumb radio? Today, I found out that your disorder never even existed. I was about 16, struggling in high school, and the doctor said you had no signs or symptoms. You were only facing d