My scariest experience ever

“Chance, get up.”
“Wuh…why? It’s 1:10 in the morning.”
“just come downstairs.”
I walk down the stairs, still half asleep. Once I reach the bottom, I go towards the couch, fully intent on going back to sleep. I then look at the T.V., only to see the weather channel. I know this must be bad, because my dad never watches the weather in a storm. As a matter of fact, he does all he can to avoid the news. I didn’t actually watched it, because he stops me and tells me to get into the kitchen. I know this is bad, because we decided this was our safe spot, in the event of a tornado. I get down, and wait. I look at the clock. 1:13. My dad dives down on top of me, and seconds later, the storm hits. I feel the house shake, stop, and shake again, then stop. Silence. Darkness. This was a tornado. We get up, and nothing has happened to the house, we think.
“I’m going out to see what it looks like.”
“But what if there is another one?” I say.
“There won’t be, do you want to go?”
“No.”
“okay.”
He exits the door, and I sit and wait…and wait…and wait…and wait…and he doesn’t come out for what seems like forever. I step out to look for him, only to see that he has barely gone any distance. I catch up with him, and we walk in silence. We walk around for about thirty minutes, and then return to the house. I sleep in his bed tonight, by his request. (I don’t complain)