"It doesn't matter," Allen said to his daughter, "In due time, you will understand." So unfair! Liya wanted to shout but kept quiet. There was no point arguing further with someone as dense as a rock. She stormed down the old staircase, its wood complained with creaks and groans. The house should have been renovated at some point through the centuries, yet it never had. Liya would often wonder why, as her great grandfather thirty generations back had built it. How does the house still stand? she wondered. It should have fallen apart long ago―right? The neighboring houses were all much younger than theirs. Yet they had seen plenty of renovations over the years, so why hadn't theirs? 'The house is our heritage and legacy; it would be sacrilege to alter it!' Allen would often remind her. 'Remember, it's older than America itself!' At some point, she thought, someone had to leave one home for another. Else, how would anyone ever end up some place new? So... Liya wanted to leave. The idea of spending the rest of her life in the family home was filled with feelings of dread and misery. The reason why, was as simple as they always were for a sixteen-year-old: How else was she supposed to find love? They lived in a small town with only five boys around her age. Out of those five, only one was of particularly dreamy stock. Unfortunately, he had never shown much interest in her, as all his energy was used to woo her best friend. That particular sentiment did not sit well with Liya. What could she possibly offer that I can't? It boggled her mind. Sometimes she wondered if it was all a consequence of her unusual looks. Long straight brown hair. Icy blue eyes. Yet eastern facial features from her mother's side of the family. Do I really look that weird? Not that she was allowed to be involved in romantic affairs. Her father had made it abundantly clear that she was not to pursue relations with anyone. 'Fleeting love would do none but harm the Barlow family secret,' Allen claimed. Whatever that alleged secret was, she was never told. "I'm going to Mom's," Liya shouted as she slammed the front door closed. A small decorative ship wheel which hung next to the door shook by the force and a rusty nail popped out. It fell to the floor with a faint clink. As Liya walked along the road, she cursed her father. When she was younger, she didn't realize just how different her family was. Now that she was older, she understood how they deviated a lot from the norm. Other families lived under the same roof, shared dinner, had electricity and running water. Not the Barlow family. No, her father would never install any such contraptions, nor let his wife inside. Elsa, her mother, had to get her own house down the street as part of the marriage conditions. Only direct descendants were allowed to place their foot inside the Barlow household. It didn't make a lick of sense to Liya. Just another of Dad's crazy traditions, she thought. It didn't help that her question of 'Why' was forever ignored. Her father always gave her the same response when he had no answer: 'In due time, you will understand'. He would say. Once again, he didn't give me an answer, she thought. Very well, he can keep it. It had been his last chance this evening. She had tried to make it clear to him but once again, he didn't understand, or perhaps he simply didn't care. Now, she would make one final farewell to her mother, then run away from home, forever.