"You know a lot for a little girl," Rambo said to Karina.
"My last name is Ting. It's like Ding, except smarter. You should expect nothing less," Karina said, with tears in her eyes.
My Father held her hands and told her, "You're valuable. I'm impressed that you stayed alive for over a year after they hurt you."
"There is a reason I was made into this world, and perhaps it's to give birth to Boris and Betina, but I felt it was something more," Karina said. "I hope it was not to just bore the child of the enemies."
"I believe you, Karina," Rambo said, as he knelt beside her.
The room was dark, but we could still feel each other.
I turned around and witnessed a darkened world, with a thriving regime built on fear and darkness.
"Karina, why don't you eat a little bit, and then sleep," my Father said. "I will care for Boris and Betina."
"Thank you, Mr. O'Connor," Karina said.
I took some of the solar lightbulbs we had in our cabinet and used it's sticky side along it's edge and stuck it on the walls around inside our home. The darkness won't cower my Father and I, we knew something went on since the inception of the regime.
"Jake, do you have a Mom?" Karina asked.
"He doesn't want to talk about her," Rambo said. "It gives him a headache."
"She's Tier 1, but she doesnt' want to work for it, and only wants to marry through it," said Mr. O'Connor. "Superficial, and dominating, and often she drinks too much."
"She is remarried, with another Tier 1," I told Karina. "So she doesn't even remember me."
Karina straigthened her chair to face the table, and my Father took some of the pasta that was ready inside the pot, and placed some spaghetti onto a plate. He took some of the marinara sauce, and ladled enough for a twelve year old portion.
Karina saw the spaghetti, and her mouth gaped open. "Fresh hot meal. I havent' had this in a very long time," she said.
"The usual," my Father said. "Sean. That's my name."
"It's easy to make," Rambo said, sitting down at the dinner table. "Not to insult your cooking ability, Mr. O'Connor."
"I never had one, and it's Jake's favorite," said my Father, taking some spaghetti from the pot with some marinara sauce for Rambo.
I smiled, and sat myself down at the dinner table with everyone.
"It's love, no matter how you cook it," I told Karina.
We ate together under the solar lightbulbs, while the rest of the world was still in the dark.
Just write.