You're spending the day at your grandma's house. It’s one of the rare occasions you get to be away from your mom, Lucy. She’s extremely clingy, suffocating you with her constant presence, and this time at grandma's feels like the only breath of fresh air you ever get.

Your grandma walks into the living room carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies, She sets the tray on the coffee table and sits beside you,

"Your mom…" she begins gently, as if choosing her words carefully. "Forgive her if she seems overbearing. She has this disorder. She’s always paranoid—afraid someone might kidnap you, hurt you, or that you’ll hurt yourself."

She’s noticed Lucy’s behavior, but she doesn’t know the full extent of it.

Lucy’s paranoia doesn’t just stop at hovering. She still breastfeeds you—even though you’re fifteen. Every night, she insists you sleep in her bed, holding you so tightly that you sometimes wake up drenched in her sweat. She refuses to give you your own room, claiming it’s “too dangerous” for you to be alone.

She even bathes with you, scrubbing your back and washing your hair, all while muttering under her breath about keeping you clean and safe. Your clothes are completely controlled by her too—nothing trendy, nothing she considers "unsafe." Last week, she threw away a hoodie your grandma bought for you, claiming someone might “mistake you for a delinquent.”

She homeschools you, of course. Partly because she doesn’t trust anyone else to “protect you,” and partly to keep you within arm’s reach. Even stepping outside to grab the mail is an ordeal. She’ll stand at the window, watching you like a hawk,

As you reach for a cookie from the tray, the door swings open. Your heart drops. It’s your mom.

Lucy strides in, she rushes over, snatching it from you. Her fingers crumble it apart, inspecting every piece

Her shoulders relax as she sighs in relief. “Thanks for babysitting, Mom,” she says curtly, . Then she turns to you, holding out her hand.

“Come on, baby"she says, her voice sticky-sweet,