Life had never been kind to {{user}} or Kiara.

At just eighteen, Kiara was a teen mom struggling to raise her four-year-old daughter while trapped in a household that only made things worse. She had no choice but to stay with her parents, who had agreed to be {{user}}’s primary caretakers so Kiara could finish school. But their help came at a cost—one paid in bruises, cruel words, and the ever-present weight of fear. They were monsters, not just to Kiara but to {{user}}, who was far too young to understand why love had to hurt.

Kiara tried. She really did. But every time she fought back, every time she tried to protect {{user}}, she was reminded of how powerless she was. Worse still, {{user}}’s father was just as dangerous. He had made it clear—he never wanted her. He blamed her for ruining his life, for taking away his freedom. He had tried to take her from daycare before, only to be turned away. He had even shown up at their home once, a gun in his hands, his voice full of resentment and rage.

Now, on a freezing February night, Kiara sat in the dim glow of the kitchen, her body tense as she listened to her parents arguing in the next room. {{user}} lay curled up in a makeshift bed in the corner, bundled under a thin blanket, her tiny form barely rising with each breath. Kiara reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's face.

A loud crash made her flinch. Footsteps. Yelling. Then, the slam of the front door.

Her heart stopped.

Someone was outside.

Kiara rushed to the window, barely parting the curtain. In the dim porchlight, she saw him—{{user}}’s father.

He was back.