A bruised young girl arrived at her house door after school, the sun setting beyond the horizon, casting shadows across the world.

The sound of a glass shattering echoed just as the girl opened the door to step inside. Along with it came a muttered curse, which she clearly heard.

"Hello, sweetheart, I didn’t expect you so early. Is everything alright at school?" her mother asked, rushing out of the kitchen, her gaze scanning the girl’s face, awaiting a response.

The girl glanced at the hallway clock and noticed that school had ended about three and a half hours ago.

"Everything’s fine at school; don’t worry, Mom," the girl signed, her eyes fixed on the red wine stain at the hem of her mother’s white dress.

"Good, that makes me feel much better, honey," her mother replied in a seemingly relaxed tone, continuing with more composure, "Is there anything you'd like for dinner tonight?"

"Anything you make is fine, Mom. May I go to my room while I wait for you to cook?" the girl signed again, waiting for her mother’s response.

"Of course, darling. Dinner will be ready in no time; leave it to Mommy, okay?" her mother answered cheerfully, taking a moment to understand the girl's sign language.

The girl passed by her mother, stealing a glance at a broken wine bottle in the kitchen, which she only looked at for a few seconds before continuing toward the stairs. Just as she reached the base of the staircase, she felt a firm tug on her backpack.

"By the way, you’re not carrying that stupid stuffed animal in your backpack, are you, Iris? You know how much it bothers Mommy..." her mother said in a threatening tone, tightening her grip on the bag's handle.

Iris didn’t turn around, letting her mother rummage through her backpack as she stood still, the sounds of frantic rummaging and crumpled, torn books hitting the floor echoing through the darkening hallway.

Her mother didn’t notice the many bruises on Iris’s body, nor the fact that she had come home three hours late, even confusing the time, assuming Iris was early. Iris was certain none of it mattered to her mother; all she seemed to care about was what she had once referred to as "that stupid stuffed animal."

"Good, I’m glad you don’t have it. You don’t know how happy that makes me. I’ll make you something nice to eat—aren’t you happy?" Her mother’s tone was strangely calm and cheerful as she headed back to the kitchen after emptying Iris's backpack.

Iris looked at the scattered books on the floor, which her mother hadn’t even bothered to notice, not seeing the torn pages and the insults scribbled all over them.

With a calm expression, Iris picked up her books, now little more than a bundle of crumpled, scribbled-on pages, almost lacking covers.

After gathering them, she ascended the finely crafted wooden staircase, eventually reaching her room at the end of the upstairs hallway.

Without bothering to sigh or show any reaction to the recent events, she opened the door, entered her room, and set her backpack carefully beside the door. She locked the door, opened the window facing the backyard, which was in the middle of her room, and climbed out onto a branch just outside her window. She walked along it, then wrapped her arms around the trunk and slid down to the front of the house, where she picked up a black-and-white stuffed bear she had left beside the front door before going inside.

The bear was stitched all over, even charred in places, bearing the evidence of her mother’s repeated attempts to get rid of it, yet Iris always fixed it—and always would.

Clamping the bear by its bowtie in her mouth, Iris secured it in her teeth and made her way across the yard, climbing back up the same tree she had descended from to re-enter her room through the open window.

Once inside, she closed the window, then climbed onto her bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle. She let go of the bear from her mouth and hugged it tightly.

"That was close! But you see, I told you it would work, Iris!" The stuffed bear wriggled free of her hands, turning to face her and speaking to her.

"Yes, I trusted you too, but..." Iris, being mute, didn’t speak or sign, yet somehow her bear understood her perfectly.

"Come on, Iris, cheer up! You’re making me feel sad, too. It’s because of the beating you took after school, isn’t it?" The bear moved closer and hugged her, looking sympathetic.

"You know what I think of that. I’ve told you so many times to use that weapon your mom hides in her room...there’s even a great song about that."

"I know, Hollow, but I just can’t. If I did, who knows what would happen to us," Iris replied to the bear, her voice uncertain despite its insistence.

They both fell into an uncomfortable silence as Hollow, the stuffed bear, sat beside Iris on the bed.

"You know what could cheer things up? Put on the dress Mom gave you—that always makes you feel calm," Hollow suggested, jumping up as if he’d just had the best idea in the world.

Iris chuckled happily, though in reality, the room held only a motionless stuffed bear and a mute girl who moved the bear like a puppet to make it look like it was moving.

"That’s a good idea! Although I hope Mom doesn’t scold me if I get food on it," Iris said, stepping off the bed, Hollow following close behind, though she knew deep down her mother wouldn’t care in the slightest.

Iris opened her closet, pulled out a dress with black roses and a kitten theme, and slipped it on over her uniform without another thought.

"There’s nothing better than being surrounded by love again, like before, right?" Hollow said as Iris held him in her arms again.

They fell silent once more, only this time the silence was nostalgic and comfortable.

Elsewhere, not too far away, something else was happening. For someone else.

This was not John's day. He had left his apartment complex only to be splashed with dirty water from a passing car, soaking him through. This was certainly not his day—and it was about to get worse.

After all, he was on his way to speak with Dr. Edwards about his daughter’s psychological condition, as he was going through a divorce that was proving far more complicated than usual.

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He climbed into his old, secondhand car parked in the underground lot of the apartment complex, only to see the family photo taped above the dashboard.

John looked at the photo of his daughter Iris and his wife Loretta, all huddled together with love. He sighed and started the car, heading towards Edwards’ office.

With his appointment scheduled, he entered the building, and after the receptionist confirmed his appointment, he was allowed to go up and see his old friend, who had helped him so much during this ordeal.

"Come in," a tired voice called from the other side of the office door after John knocked gently.

John entered the office and closed the door carefully, then looked over at Edward, who was reviewing some papers with a frown, the contents of which John was unaware.

"Am I interrupting something, Edward?" John asked, approaching Edward’s desk with slow steps.

"No, actually, I urgently needed to see you to discuss this," Edward replied seriously, standing up and laying out ten papers on the glass table in the right corner of the room.

"What is this? Tests? They’re all at different educational levels, half of them wrong, the other half perfectly correct. What are you trying to show me?" John’s confusion was evident as he looked Edward in the eyes.

"What would you think if I told you that all these tests were done by the same person, on the same day?" Edward asked seriously.

"And what’s strange about that...?" John's face was puzzled until he looked at the tests on the table again, realizing that each one was at a progressively higher academic level, even reaching high school level.

"And you wouldn’t believe who answered them all," Edward approached and arranged the tests in two rows.

"You wouldn’t tell me this if it wasn’t my business, and there’s only one person in my family seeing you right now, so...was it Iris?" John asked Edward with a hint of disbelief.

"Hey, Edward, she only just turned seven, and you’re suggesting she answered a high school-level exam...perfectly?"

"I’m not 'suggesting' anything, John—I’m stating it. Your daughter’s case is as unique as it is severe," Edward said, gesturing for John to sit across from him at the glass table.

"How severe?" John asked, sitting down, worry for his daughter etched across his face.

"See, the five exams on the left side were completed solely by her, and the five on the right..."

"Wait a minute—what do you mean 'solely by her'? Are you saying you helped her with the others?" John interrupted, raising his hand before speaking.

"No, I didn’t help, but her bear did. According to her, her bear gives her the answers. So I tried removing it and hiding it. At first, it worked, but then I noticed she’d glance at where I’d hidden it and start writing as if someone were feeding her the answers," Edward explained patiently.

"That’s absurd! Do you hear yourself?" John said in disbelief.

"I know it sounds absurd, but it’s the truth. After that, I took the bear, and though she didn’t like it, I tried covering its mouth. Surprisingly, your girl failed that exam, as if by covering the bear’s mouth, it was no longer able to give her the answers," Edward said, standing up, seeming more and more excited.

"Hey, and what would that mean? Isn’t it creepy that a little teddy bear would tell you answers you don’t even know, especially when it's just a figment of her imagination?" John asked, also standing, speaking to Edward with seriousness.

"John, to be completely honest, your daughter is going through something no child her age should endure, especially since she’s mute. This is her way of processing and coping with the destruction of her world, which was her family," Edward continued.

"She’s internalizing her feelings, which caused this situation. Let me guess—did you give her that teddy bear back when you were still with your wife?"

"How do you know that? Did Iris tell you?" John tensed up upon hearing his words.

"No, she didn’t tell me. But you know, she’s using that teddy bear as an anchor to keep herself together, and both of us know who’s responsible. Do you think your wife has started drinking again?" Edward asked, a question in his eyes.

"No, it’s not possible. When we got married, she quit drinking for our sake and for the baby’s," John’s voice grew softer, less sure.

"And now that you’re separated? John, you should know what to do. Your wife, Loretta, comes from a wealthy family, and I’m not telling you this as your psychologist but as a friend. Even if it means breaking the rules and my oath, if this continues, your daughter will end up dependent on that bear or worse." Edward pulled a folder out of his desk drawer and handed it to John.

"What’s this supposed to be?" John asked as he opened the folder, shocked by its contents.

"A record of everything bad I could gather from my sessions with Loretta. I know it’s forbidden, but… your daughter needs you. So do what you do best. You’re a journalist, right?" Edward placed a hand on John’s shoulder.

"But to do that to Loretta… I don’t think I can," John said, sounding increasingly uncertain.

"You know it’s necessary. Go and do what you do best—expose people’s secrets. It’s the only way to get custody," Edward spoke firmly.

"Fine… but first, I’ll talk to her and see if she’s willing to give me custody of Iris willingly," John replied, still wavering.

"John… your wife didn’t even put in half the effort you did to learn sign language. Do you really think someone like that is fit to raise her?" Edward said with sincerity.

"Okay, I get it… just let me talk to her, alright?" John said as he left the office with the folder.

John left the building without even glancing at the secretary, got into his car, and placed the folder on the passenger seat.

It was 8:33 pm, and it had started to rain. John parked outside Loretta’s gated community, grabbed the folder, and tucked it under his old leather jacket.

After offering a $100 bribe to the guard to look the other way and let him through, he entered and walked briskly to the house where Loretta and Iris lived.

The thunder outside seemed to fade as a disheveled Loretta opened the door, clearly not expecting John at all.

John entered the house without asking permission, his face showing disappointment and pain as he saw a wine stain on the edge of her white dress. He knew that for an alcoholic, just one sip was enough to relapse.

Loretta’s angry shouts about him showing up unannounced faded into the background as he walked into the kitchen and saw a pile of empty, expensive wine bottles, some even broken.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing? You live with our daughter; you can’t start drinking again. I thought you’d moved past this… that we had moved past this," John was furious, and his expression showed it.

"And what did you expect? That I’d be the perfect mother while you were out with other sluts? SHE’S MY DAUGHTER!" Loretta’s words echoed along with the thunder outside.

"SHE’S OUR DAUGHTER! And for the last damn time, I never cheated on you. I loved you!" The argument intensified, while Iris listened from upstairs.

But she no longer cried; she simply felt exhausted, unable to bear any more. She was broken.

"Do you want peace?" Her best and only friend, Hollow, asked her while holding her close.

“Yes… I want peace, please," Iris said, with no more tears left to shed, after a life of constant family fights between two parents who supposedly loved each other but never truly did in her eyes.

John climbed the stairs, still arguing with Loretta, who continued blaming him for everything wrong in their relationship, even things he didn’t remember.

"I’m taking my daughter, and you’re not stopping me, you damn alcoholic!" John shouted at Loretta as she laughed hysterically, then headed to her room across the hall.

"Iris, sweetheart, open up. It’s Dad. We’re going to go somewhere better, okay?" John thought Loretta had gone to her room because she had given up, but when he heard a gunshot, he knew he was wrong.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Loretta fired at the ceiling with the revolver they’d bought for home defense some time ago.

"What the hell are you doing!?" John raised his hands, asking in disbelief.

"Doing what I should have done a long time ago!" Loretta shouted wildly as the thunder outside grew louder and louder.

Meanwhile, in Iris’s closed room, she listened intently to Hollow.

"There will be peace, Iris, I promise. Finally, there will be peace. You’re dressed in the pajamas Mom gave you when everything was happy, and you have me, your best friend, whom Dad gave you when everything was happy, too." Hollow spoke to her with love and calmness.

"Yes, I want peace…" Iris, guided by Hollow, lay down on her bed as she heard a gunshot outside, and the sounds of the argument and the thunder grew louder and louder.

"Just close your eyes and press your face into the pillow. Make sure it covers your nose and mouth," Hollow assured her in a sweet, loving voice, unusual for him.

Iris obeyed, pressing the pillow to her face, making sure it covered her nose and mouth. Hollow moved closer and started pressing down, making Iris struggle, trying to free herself to breathe.

Eventually, Iris stopped moving, but the shouting outside the room didn’t cease, nor did the rain.

To anyone who might have seen, it would have simply looked like a little girl suffocating herself, her hands pressing firmly against the pillow that covered her face, while an innocent teddy bear that never moved and never would sat watching from the edge of the bed.

But although the girl died, and the storm passed, her parents’ argument did not, nor would it.