Looking back, I remember making jokes when my dad gave me his lessons. Jokes like he was preparing me for the hunger games or the zombie apocalypse. Now though, I wish that was all it was...that would make things so much easier. Especially if I actually put effort into those lessons. I took me, well, a while to get to camp. And but then, I was no longer sure it was worth it.
The beginning went something like this:
Me: Dad do I have do this again, we live in Canada, I'm sure I can just ask the neighbours for water
Dad: you won't always be here, you need to learn how to filter the water so it's safe to drink.
Me: *groan worthy of Merida from brave*
I begin to show him what I can do. The filter system is beyond easy, I don't know why he bothers. The crash sounds from outside. My dad instantly springs into action, pushing me behind a table and out of sight.
The sounds of fight are heard for a while, then it stops. I wait for something to come for me. My dad, a monster, anything to know what happens.
It takes too long. I crawl out from under the desk and peer around the corner. Nothing.
Literally Nothing. No Dad. No monster. Only one three letter word scratched hastily into the ground: RUN