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Fear consumed the girl entirely. Unease crept through her, a foreign sensation she had never known before.

She remained hidden in the room, her breath shallow as she waited for something, anything, to break the eerie silence. A sign. An indication of what was happening.

The fluorescent light blurred over the unshed tears in her eyes, reminding her of the endless rainy days she had spent wishing for a ray of sunshine to free her from the house’s captivity. Now, she’d rather roam the house than stay in this small, cramped room meant for moments like this.

Her legs shook the same way they did when she sat at the dinner table, wiggling under the tablecloth. A gut feeling deep within told her something bad was about to happen, prompted by Mom’s nervous glances toward the front door during their meal.

Was she expecting someone ?

The girl never understood, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t recall anyone other than the two of them crossing the threshold.

Was it a stranger bringing trouble to their door? Or a friend? Her mom could use one of those. She could, too.

They were what people called “total loners.” She’d heard about them on TV, the ones who barely left the house and minimized contact with the outside world.

The description matched her family perfectly.

Everything was brought to them. Occasionally, she was allowed to play in the backyard, but even then, her mom watched closely through the kitchen window.

Always close. Never too far out of reach. Those words summed up her childhood in this suburban house.

At first, the girl believed she was special.

Why else would they protect her this much?

She wasn’t a princess, that much she knew, or she wouldn’t be allowed to get so filthy.

Dirt covered her up to her ears whenever she played, building walls out of wet sand.

The higher they reached, almost knee level, the prouder she felt.

But when the rain came, she watched her creation wash away, crumbling back into grains.

Still, she kept rebuilding.

With each birthday, more questions arose, but no amount of begging would bring her answers. Since she couldn’t stand seeing her mom upset, time allowed her to let the curiosity go.

This way of life became the norm, their norm of no visitors, no peers to play with.

Perhaps Mom had an unpleasant experience, a past event leaving her unprepared to get back out. The world overflowed with bad people, or so they preached on the news. That bit of information convinced the girl it was for the best if they didn’t put themselves out there.

After all, Mom was her everything, a best friend, the only one she ever knew. The bubble was her comfort zone, no matter how unconventional it was .

Dinner time was by far her favorite part of the day.

The dining room transformed into a brighter space with laughter and stories about pizza topping combinations they’d use during their annual bake-offs.

It took a while to find a winner, but she strongly suspected her luck was turning.

The next victory would be hers. Guaranteed.

Not tonight. Tonight, a strange vibe lingered. Mom was distant, barely eating.

The girl observed her single parent from the opposite seat at the table. She even attempted to ask questions to ease the tension, but nothing helped.

Was she the reason for her mother’s worry?

Finished with her soup, the dirty bowl in hand, the girl made her way to the kitchen. Time was nearing eight o’clock, meaning the psychologist’s show she obsessed over was about to air.

Before she loaded the dishwasher, a knock on the door echoed through the otherwise silent house. Strange, she thought. Deliveries never came this late.

Was this the cause of her unsettlement?

Remembering the few times her mom struggled with delivery drivers and the unease those interactions brought, she thought little of the irregularity.

She settled on the couch, letting the adult handle the officialities. The show host greeted today’s guests, but their names were drowned out by the intense knocking. A fist pounded against the reinforced door, the aggressive pattern demanding attention.

Mom made no move, never rising from the dining table, but calmly turned her blonde head, looked her daughter in the eye, and whispered, “Taya, it’s time to play.”

The child understood the code and quickly stood up.

She ran upstairs, her TV show completely forgotten.

The carpet softened her fall as she lowered herself and patted the wall for the familiar opening her mom had shown her at an early age.

Behind it, a space known only as the panic room awaited her, its purpose shrouded in secrecy.

It resembled something out of an action movie, except smaller and with fewer tech gadgets.

To this day, no situation had forced them to use the safety it offered.

It was only for training or playtime when she was younger.

She never fully understood the true meaning behind the name, or why a suburban house would have one.

There had been no real danger to hide from back then.

Now, though, the word “panic” seemed fitting.

The room’s sensor detected motion, and the emergency lights flickered on, guiding her forward.

With her head tucked in, she hugged her bruised knees close, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Her breath came in heavy puffs, but she focused all her energy on calming her racing heart.

For many minutes, she sat there, counting heartbeats.

It wasn’t long before the front door unlocked. The sound echoed through the house every time the entry opened. Mom insisted on not oiling the hinges, so though it wasn’t heard often, the squeaking noise was a familiar sound in their household.

With her head pressed against the wall, she tried to listen, hoping to understand what was happening.

Beyond the buzzing sound above her, all she heard was a jumble of voices.

When her mother’s voice registered through the noise, the girl let out a heavy breath, the familiarity of the sound offering a small comfort.

Still, she couldn’t calm down, no matter how hard she tried.

What was she saying? Who was she speaking to? She couldn’t make out the words. Not because of the distance, but because they were foreign to her ears.

The space felt suffocating, her eyes blinking rapidly in rhythm with her pulse. Despite everything, she obediently waited until her body couldn’t stay still anymore.

Worst-case scenarios flooded her mind. Her imagination had a tendency to wander far beyond any sane limit .

Her mom was out there, on her own.

The thought struck her, bringing a wave of panic.

For the first time, she felt utterly alone, completely separated from the constant of her life.

The situation was so unnatural, she could hardly stand the thought of it.

Tonight forced her to confront feelings she never knew existed, and the one person who could calm the unknown was nowhere near.

Before another thought poisoned her mind with worry, she pushed the red button and crawled out on all fours, ignoring everything her mom had taught her. There would be time for forgiveness later.

On silent feet, she crept toward the top of the staircase. That’s when she heard it. A gunshot. Her first time hearing one quickly became her second.

A loud thump reached her ears before the house fell silent. Gone were the voices, her mother’s included.

Over the wooden railing, the child peeked downstairs, where her mother stood above two unmoving bodies, men lying face down in the hallway.

Smoke was rising from the weapon her mother still held. The image seared into her mind, raising immediate alarms. She knew that the dangerous object her mother gripped had always been locked away in the first drawer of the cabinet, never making an appearance.

Instinctively, the girl ran toward the woman she loved so deeply, but up close, her eyes were distant, unfamiliar, as they stared down at the intruders.

With an outstretched hand, she called for her mother’s attention, feeling a rush of relief when her eyes immediately softened at the sight.

But instead of warmth, they started to glisten.

Before she could speak, her mother wiped away the evidence with the back of her palm. Her focus returned to her daughter as she said, “Listen to me, Taya. There is much you don’t know, but it will all make sense. I promise. We don’t have time. This is where we part, kotyonok. ”

Words weren’t registering, even when she listened closely. Part ways?

“Mom, what’s happening?” The girl frantically clung to her mother’s arms, pleading. “I don’t understand. ”

“There’s a blue backpack under the staircase. Get it.”

Her attention was quickly diverted by the instructions. She didn’t dare to look around, walking a straight line to the closet. Once it was in her hands, she wondered whose it was. It wasn’t theirs. She knew this house inside and out.

When she returned, her mother grabbed the backpack and strapped it onto her back.

“Everything you need is in here.”

The girl’s hands shot to the straps, gripping them in a deadly hold, as if her mother had just given her a parachute before she was pushed into the unknown.

A kiss to both cheeks stopped the tears from falling, offering the familiar comfort of a loving touch, a comfort only a mother could give. The same touch she had grown up with.

“Go where life takes you and never forget where you came from. You hear me?” Mother’s words stirred up a whirlwind of emotions. The girl bit the inside of her cheek, holding the storm at bay for just a little longer.

“I wish I could explain. Just stay strong and don’t let them find out.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, unchecked now, betraying the state of her mind. The girl wished nothing more than to stop time or even reverse it to return to the only normal she had ever known.

“I love you so much. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

In her mother’s embrace, she soaked in the feeling of safety and home. And when the moment reached its expiry, clearing her throat, she asked the painful question, “Mom, where are you going?”

“We’ll see each other again. Go out the back door. A taxi will be waiting. Don’t be scared. All will be well.”

That was the last time the girl saw her mother. The last words a loved one would speak to her.

Life had taught her its first lesson: the people who claimed to love you might’ve been the ones lying all along .

Taya’s life would never be the same after she looked inside the backpack. As the house she grew up in faded away, the bubble she had lived within shattered into a million broken pieces.

Pieces she didn’t bother to pick up, for it wasn’t repairable.