After a moment's thought, she decided to go to the kitchen to get herself a snack. And coincidentally, while she was there, size up some of their knives.

Sara walked down stairs into the kitchen. There, the smell of roast beef that mom must have been cooking for later on that day, perhaps for dinner, filled the air. It was certain that there would be at least one Charleston Chew in the freezer, a hard candy when frozen that could be eat. There was also bread in the pantry.

Sara's eyes wandered over to the kitchen knives. There was a big cleaver, and several large steak knifes. There were also a few paring knives for cutting fruit, the kind Mom used to slice up tomatoes and other fresh vegetables.

Okay, well, she wasn't supposed to cut her hand off. So the cleaver was out. One of the steak knives, maybe... Hmm. Maybe she should also find a bandage, just in case. Wouldn't want to bleed out to death from this.

Thinking about this made her feel a little ill. Nonetheless, her appetite was not so easily suppressed. Soon enough, it returned and Sara decided to help herself to Charleston Chew.

The Charleston Chew came out of the freezer cold to the touch. It was rock hard. But that was the point. After a few moments of warmth, it soften. Sara tasted the warm, gooeyness of the delicious chocolate.

Mm... That did make her feel better.

And it helped her think. It was still early in the morning. There was no need to rush this. But it was good to prepare everything in advance... So, then, where did they store bandages?

Sara pondered this thought. Bandages. There were none. Only band-aids. And those were under the sink in the bathroom.

That was better than nothing, she decided, after enjoying the candy for a little longer. May as well go and take one now, for later...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:11, Mon 29 Apr 2019.

Sara went to the bathroom and retrieved a handful of band-aids. However much blood might be produced, she had plenty of bandaids--she thought--to make sure that the wound at least could be covered.

Without further ado, Sara went to look for her dad.

It didn't take long.

Sara followed the trail of smoke into the living room where Dad sat with his feet up on the coffee table.

Dad gave a glance at Sara holding all of those band aids, and raised an eyebrow. But otherwise, he didn't say anything. Instead he took a long drag of the cigarette, and blue out the smoke which hung lazily in the air.

She was hoping she'd figure out where to hide them on the way here...

Oh well. "So, who were you talking to? I heard."

Dad didn't answer. He just took a long drag from his cigarette.

"What's with all the band-aids? You look like you're goin' to go off and cut your wrists or something."

He let the cigarette smoke out in a long exhale from his nostrils.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Like you'd care if I did."

Dad didn't answer. He just took a long drag from his cigarette.

"You're full of piss an vinegar today." Dad said, his mouth curled up to a smile, but his eyes all the while fixed on Sara. The mouth might have been smiling, but his eyes were dead cold. He had clearly noted Sara's back talk, and his eyes communicated that there might be only so much more of it he was willing to entertain.

"You still didn't answer my question." he stated, then he took another drag on the cigarette.

Something gave her momentary pause, he wasn't usually like this. "Might need them later," she muttered quietly, looking down, then stared at him again. "What about mine? Who was that, on the phone?"

Dad took another drag and eyed Sara, the silence growing between them. He exhaled lazily as if he was in no hurry to answer Sara's question, as if he might not answer at all.

"Alright." He said finally, as if entertained by the idea of telling Sara.

"That's my bookie. That was him on the phone."

"Do you know what a bookie is?" He asked doubtfully.

She screwed up her face, thinking. She knew this one, even though she wasn't sure from where. "It's... a... It's someone who takes bets?" It so figured that Dad would be gambling from home as well. But why was he talking about her as well?

"Right." Dad said, agreeing with Sara. And then, somewhat suspiciously

"Why? Do you have any money to place a bet?"

Sara frowned. "Not really..." If she searched her room, she probably could scrape together a fair amount... but why would she do that? "How much do you bet anyway?" she asked, curiously.

"A thousand." Dad said. "A thousand dollars. It costs me two points a week if I have to borrow. But it's worth it if I make the spread. The over-under on the Bills this week is insane. And that's just in football. At the OTB, there's a jockey who one the Derby last year, but with a different horse. Not many people know about it. But I've been looking at the books. I think its the same guy. On Saturday, he'll be on a horse named Cherrywinks. I think that same horse finished last year in 2nd, but with this jockey I'm betting first place. It's a 25 to 1 pay off. It can't miss!"

Most of that was way over her head, but so long as he wasn't talking about the bandages, it was good. "Did you win the last time?"

"What the fuck do you know about it!?" Dad yelled. Or screamed really. The question seemed to touch a nerve.

Then he calmed down, as if realizing that he was screaming at a child. His child. Sara.

"I mean..." he sighed with annoyance. "Whatever."

"What the heck are you doing any way?" Dad said, eager to get on with whatever it was that Sara was doing.

"I mean. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Never mind," she turned to storm off, then paused and looked back. "Wait. You wanted to bring me somewhere? When?"

Dad took a last drag on the cigarette.

"In five minutes. Get dressed." Then he got up and walked across to the kitchen and then took the keys off of the hook, ready to start the car.

Sara's eyes widened, and she ran off.

Alright. She'll pick out some clothes... and find some way to hide the band aids until she needed them. Taking a knife would be pushing her luck a bit too far though, probably. Hopefully dad's bookie friend or whatever had some where they were going.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Sun 12 May 2019.