Birdie walks in after her dad, her whole body covered up. She goes outside every once and awhile but every time she does she always has to wear a big black hoodie, long jeans, long socks, and black shows. She always has to have her hood up and head down.
"Jesus fucking christ." Her dad complains as they walk into the house, he always does. He wakes up, complains. He sits down in an odd way, he complains.
He takes some alcohol from the fridge and glug. Birdie looks away.
"Can you not fucking do that right now." She groans, "You become so pissy."
"Don't call me pissy you little shit." He dad says, "You can't call me shit. I'm the dad and you're the child. Now stay quiet."
Birdie crosses her arms.
"Stop being so fucking annoying over there." Her dad looks, "You're so much like your brother. You're so fucking ungrateful."
"Ungrateful?-"
"I just took you outside and you're still fucking complaining! You cross your arms and groan like nobody can fucking hear you. Oh- And once I get one beer I'm the bad guy?"
"I'm not ungrateful." Birdie knows this.
"You have a better life than most of these kids and you can't even see it." Her dad says, "Look at your fucking legs."
Birdie looks down at her legs, both were made of metal and a bit loose in some areas.
"You caused this." She says, "You put me in that porta-"
"For science! Humans lives get risked for science every day.. that's just how it is!" Her dad says while taking another can of beer with him into his workshop and slamming his door.
Birdie just walks up into her room and locks it.
