It had been her birthday. The big 1-0. She had woken up to see a package at the foot of the bed. She didn't open it. She knew what it was. Another damn doll. Hadn't they realised she had out grown them at 3? Walking out she saw her sister eating toast and jam. No one else was around. No one else was ever around. 'Happy birthday Margaret!' her sister said slightly upbeat. She smiled lightly and grabbed some ready-made toast. 'I got you a present.' The 7 year old said and pulled out a small package. She smiled brightly; too small to be a doll. 'I hope you like it.' The younger girl continued. She unwrapped it carefully to reveal a small gold bracelet. "Thanks" she said, getting up to hug her sister.

In recent years things had become worse. Their parents never spoke to each other, the girls never spoke to their mother and when their father was around – which was rare because of his promotion – the only words said were 'hello' and 'goodnight'...usually only ever the 'hello'. The two had to stick together to survive. They left for school alone, and they always came back to an empty house. Both were apt students – always asking for more work to take home. School for them was a sanctuary from the silent hell they went through at home. They both had few friends and at each new base they went to, the numbers diminished. They did their homework, cleaned the 'house' then the two would attempt dinner. On rare occasions their mother did get home before 6 and cooked. But that was rare. No one else on any base knew what was going on. Her father never found out what she told the Sergeant 4 years ago. Not that he would have done anything but yell. The yelling wasn't bad.

The two finished their breakfast, talking about nothing in particular...just talking. They changed their clothes, packed their bags and walked out. They had been at this school for nearly 3 months and the adjusting stage was well on its way. Thankfully the distance between the base and the school was only a 15-minute walk. The bell had gone and everyone headed inside to their classrooms.

The morning was spent on spelling and reading. She was good at that. Always getting the top mark in the class, yet never making a big deal about it. The class spent half an hour reading before heading outside for gym. She was also good at that. Coming from a military background it was expected. After recess everyone headed back inside for math and science. She detested math; not that she was bad at it. She never could understand why go into something. Why they just couldn't accept that things were the way it was and that was it. She loved science. It was her favourite. This semester was on how the body worked; her admiration for people in medicine came in good practice for this particular topic. An hour before lunch, the class started on social studies. Geography bored her immensely. They were doing a team activity on volcanoes; all the girls just talked and all the boys did the work. She didn't mind talking...but she could never talk to the girls; they were all just too different. After 20 minutes of civil war history – another tedious and boring task, they headed out to lunch. She found her sister and the two sat under a tree, eating their packed lunch from the night before. 'At least art was next' she thought.

When the bell went the two said their goodbyes and went into class. There, she saw the whole class gathered around a few tables with a reasonable-sized cake in the middle, with 10 candles in it. She couldn't help but smile. After singing happy birthday and blowing out the candles, cake was served and the class had the rest of the afternoon off to talk and play. When the time to go home came, she gave her sister the last slice of cake and the two walked home; in a much less morbid mood.

As the two walked into the house, they noticed something different. The blinds were open and the side door was open. Their father was home. The two walked into the living room and there sat their father with a blank look on his face. The two bid him a good afternoon and put their things in their rooms. She had an unsettling feeling. He wasn't supposed to be home; there was a routine, which he had disrupted.

He knocked on her door and came in. "Margaret." "Dad." Cold as ice. "Where's your mother?" he asked. He didn't know what she did...he always assumed she was home. The few times the police had called; she made excuses. "I don't know." She said blankly. "Did she say where she was going this morning to you?" he asked her. "She wasn't here this morning." He was starting to aggravate her. She could see Elizabeth standing at her door listening; looking out for her. "Why wasn't she?" her father said in a loud tone. "HOW SHOULD I KNOW? SHE'S NEVER HERE!" She yelled. He was asking all these stupid questions he should have known about. She could see her father was put back by her yelling. To him she was always a very quiet child. The fact that his wife was 'never home' according to her was an overstatement, and he reacted in the only way he could. "Margaret Houlihan don't you dare yell at me!" he said forcefully. "Like you would care anyway? Father." If words were measured in seasons...hers would have been the dead of winter. He changed the topic very quickly. "You haven't opened your present." He observed. She remained silent. "Don't you want it?" he asked angry. That was it. "No in fact I don't." "Well why not?" "Because I already know what it is. It's the same thing I get EVERY YEAR!" she screamed. "I hate dolls...I've always hated dolls." She declared finally, throwing the package down and hearing glass shatter. Her father got up and walked out. She heard the familiar front door shut and she sat down and cried. Her sister came over and hugged her. "We have to stick together Margaret...we have to beat them...we have to be better than them." "Yes...we do," She looked up. "Happy birthday...Maggie" And the pair stood up and began to clean up the shattered glass.