I didn't sleep all night. I stayed up, mixing potions and poisons. And I found something out.
Fairies exist.
I didn't believe it at first. I mean, only little kids believe in that junk. But apparently, there are eight races of fairies. Pixies, elves, gnomes, trolls, goblins, sprites, dwarfs and a lost race, demons. Pixies sounded by far the best. The evil ones. Dwarfs sounded like something a little boy would like, a joke. But it's not a joke. It's all too real.
I stayed up all night for weeks. It was worth the beatings of Father, the yells of Mother, the extra work. I've found out something amazing, without help from my family. And when I tell the rest of the world, I'll be rich and famous. Of course, ideally I'd become a fairy-any sort would do, of course. But I can't find anything on the Internet about that, no potions, no clues, no one else to have done it. But that's OK. I'm better then copying. I'll find out how myself.
On my second week of searching and experimenting, I heard footsteps up the hall. I gasped. My room was littered with paper and glass tubes, Father's laptop loading onto a page in the middle of my room. There was no time to clean it up, though I threw masses of paper in the cupboard, and was just lifting the laptop when-
"Opal. Come here."
It was Father, whip in his hand, scowl on his face. I cowered, stifling a whimper.
"Now," Father growled.
But I stood tall on a sudden thought. I'd discovered a new species, I'd spent fourteen sleepless nights working on my project. I wasn't going to let him stop me.
Father stepped forward, so I could smell the cigarette in his hand. "Opal, what is this?"
I flicked back my ginger hair, smiling bravely. "This is my project. I've discovered-"
He lunged at me with a roar. The whip slashed my back, his hand slapped my face. I tried to fight back, to no avail. Eventually, he picked me up and tossed me out the window.