"Who was in my toolbox!" A voice booms from upstairs shaking Rachel to the core. Rachel frowns as she feels the toast in her stomach shift, regretting leaving the toolbox open. She thought she'd be down there a quick second and lost track of time.

"I have to go," Rachel says. "Bye."

"Wait." The raspy voice behind the box says but Rachel is already up the stairs. She turns off the flashlight, closes the door to the basement, then runs into the kitchen to set it on the table. As she sets it down she fails to see that John is standing by the fridge watching her every move.

"So the blind bandit is living by her name?" He goes, snatching his flashlight off of the table. "Didn't your daddy go to jail for stealing? Look at him now. He's dead because of stealing."

Tears flood out of Rachel's eyes. John was right. Her father indeed died after stealing from a store. His arrest turned into a fight and the fight turned into a fatal accident. If only Rachel knew that he was only stealing food to keep her alive. But stealing cannot be justified in such way. It was just the way of life. You win or you loose and that's the sad sad truth.

"Come here." He said dragging his pointer finger in the air at her.

Rachel backs up. "Mommy!" She screams, knowing that she was about to get hurt.

John lunges at her and grabs her by the arm roughly. He digs his nails into the arm of her skin making her bleed bit by bit.

"Ouch! Mommy!" She yells.

"Mommy's not here." He pulls off his belt as he struggles to keep her still.

SMACK

He hits her with a strong blow to her face. She feels the air exit her mouth when he slaps her. She falls to the ground and feels the stinging pains of the thin belt striking her back. She tries to crawl away but he just keeps going and going and going until someone opens the front door.

Rachel's mother stands in the doorway holding a cigarette, looking around. She saw Rachel's arms sprawled out on the floor and heard her crying into the floor.

"What is this, John!" She yells then helps Rachel to her feet. Rachel shakes rapidly as the pain from the belt continues to sting her skin. She still feels like she's being whipped.

"That little thief stole my flashlight. I gave her what she deserved." John goes. "Shit. We better stop her now while she's young or she's going to end up like that father of hers was."

Martha turns Rachel around to face her. "Did you take the flashlight?" She asks in a low tone.

Rachel struggles to nod her head but she manages. Martha's face turns red and she stands up straight. "I've told you over and over to stay away from his stuff. To your room. Now!"

And like that, the curious little girl walks upstairs into her room to cry herself to sleep, becoming not the curious kid; but the depressed kid. As she sleeps she can hear her name being called.

"Rachel." "Rachel?" "Rachel, come downstairs"