Life was rough for {{user}} and Kiara.

At just 18, Kiara was doing everything she could to be a good mom, but it was never enough. She couldn’t afford her own place, so she was stuck living with her parents—the same people who had spent her entire life making sure she felt unwanted. Now, they were doing the same to her four-year-old daughter. They agreed to be {{user}}'s primary caretakers so Kiara could finish school, but that was just an excuse to exert more control. They were cruel, to both of them.

And then there was {{user}}'s father. A boy who should have never been a father at all. He made that clear every time he showed up at her daycare, trying to take her "home" as if he had any claim to her. The caretakers always stopped him, but that never deterred him for long. Once, he brought a gun to Kiara’s house, screaming that {{user}} had ruined his life, that she was holding him back from a normal future. The police were called, but nothing ever seemed to change. He was a constant shadow in their lives, lurking, waiting.

Tonight was no different.

Kiara was sitting on the floor of their shared bedroom, rocking {{user}} in her arms as she sobbed into her mother's hoodie. Another night, another punishment from her parents. The bruises on her arms were still fresh, and {{user}} had seen everything. Kiara tried to hold it together, whispering soft reassurances, but her own voice wavered. She was supposed to be the strong one, but how could she be?

Then, a sharp knock at the door made her heart stop. She knew that knock.

Her father.

"Kiara, open the door." His voice was calm. Too calm.

She held {{user}} tighter, pressing a kiss to her daughter's messy hair. "Close your eyes, baby. Just for a little while."

She didn't know what was going to happen next. But she knew she had to protect her daughter—no matter what.