Marines. You can never trust them. That's what I realized, very early in life. They're trained assassins, killers, fighters, and liars. Some call them the commandos of Armies. I call them fakers. Which is just why I love not having a father at home. Because that's all he is. A faker.

My name is Lydia Banks. I go to a high-school in Quantico. My father turned out to be the worst marine there is. A man who betrayed, what we thought, was his country. It happened on Christmas Eve. The sirens went off at about 11p.m. My mother and I thought it was just another drill, but went ahead and got down into our large basement. These weren't natural disaster sirens either. These were Bomb sirens. That's when we heard gunfire and sounds of helicopters taking off.

Who would bomb a marine base??? I grabbed my cellphone, and texted my new boyfriend, Gregory. I sent him a text, “wtf is going on?!”. No response. I sighed and closed my phone. My mother suddenly darted over to one of the big cabinets we kept down here. Some had canned goods, or water. She grabbed a small TV, and held it up.

“The news?” I questioned. She smiled, and plugged it in. I was spot on. Apparently there was an UN-identified man on the roof of the main base, and he was holding a dead-mans switch, with a bomb. Mom was stunned and horrified. It couldn't be.... We might all die, because of some crazy man, who wanted marines dead. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, breaking us out of shock. I looked down at my screen, “Not much time...In main base, guy with bomb, don't know if I can<end>”

As soon as the large boom made our house shake, I realized something. My dad had gone to the main base just an hour ago... An hour is almost exactly how much time you need to get past every clearance check in the main base, to the roof...

Mom started to sob, but I was to stunned to cry. Greg had been in there! The sirens stopped, and I ran out up the stairs, and out of the house. Filmy, gray smoke, was everywhere. It was overwhelming, but I ran through it anyways. I was suddenly grabbed by two burly marines, telling me I couldn't go in there. I argued, and tried to burst through.

A teenage girl, versus two marines=not much luck. I was thrown back, and told to stop. I tried to explain to them what was going on, but the kept me back. I finally just started crying. Paramedics were all over the place, pulling out charred corpses, or barely alive people.

I hoped Greg wasn't a charred corpse....

It was then that I headed back home, and cried myself to sleep. School was canceled for the whole week. It made it all the much worse. I finally decided to visit the hospital...maybe my dad or Greg was there. I just got into my Camry hybrid, and drove over.

The hospital was in chaos. People claiming personal affects, or looking for loved ones crowded the whole place. I sat down in one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs that was always stained, and watched the news, while I waited for the line at the information desk to slowly diminish.

“Amery Banks, was found to be the bomber of the Marine Quantico Base last night. When the Helicopters swarmed in for him, he hit the bomb, with what our sources say was a grin on his face. We all knew he was a man with a family, and a good life though, so the question remains: Why would he destroy his life? Mrs. Banks and her daughter could not be found for comment.”

...So there it was. My father, the marine was a faker. And betrayed us. I slowly got up and stood in line to see if Greg was here. If my father hurt him, I had to know. If my father killed him...I had to know.

They told me he was admitted here, and directed me to his mom, who was wiping her eyes and looking weepy. “I can't believe this,” she murmured, waving me into Greg's room. He was lying there, on that uncomfortable slab they call a bed, and softly breathing.

“Oh Greg...”I whispered, walking over quickly. He weakly grabbed my hand. This was awful. My father ruined my life! We'd probably get kicked out of Quantico, and become outcasts! They'd have to become carnies to make a living and....!!! I took a deep breath, I had to calm down.

“I...Sorry...”, He muttered, slowly falling into unconsciousness. I looked down at his now charred hands...his face was fine, but the rest of him was clearly hurt.

His mom came in, an angry look on her face. “Get away from my son. Your father did this to him, and I NEVER want you near him again!” She hissed pushing me away. I pulled a deer in the headlights, as she told me to go. Now I couldn't see Greg again...everyone probably hated me.

That was in December. Greg didn't get out of the hospital until March, and I hadn't been allowed to see him. We were still in Quantico, but only because my mother married some marine, so that we could stay.

I walked into school on the 10 of March, my regular apparel on, and my eyes downcast. Everyone hated me now. All because of my father. I bumped into someone, muttering apologies and bending down to get my books. I recognized the hands, that slowly reached down to help me gather my things.

I glanced up. There before me, was Greg. “I missed you.” He whispered, slowly pulling me up. I started to cry, and he held me against him tightly. He murmured soft, comforting words into my ear, and told me he never wanted me to listen to his mom again. I laughed and kissed him, cheeks still covered with tears.

It was one of those days... One of those days that you know is a cliché, but is always worth it.