Chapter 251
CMWMBB 52
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CMWMBB 52
IRIS
Iris had stopped counting the days because they didn’t behave the way days were supposed to.
At home, days had shape. They started with light slipping through curtains and Mama’s voice humming softly in the kitchen. They ended with bathwater and pajamas and Daddy reading even when George tried to rush ahead in the book. Days had edges you could hold.
Here, they blurred.
Morning felt the same as afternoon. Afternoon slid quietly into night. The lights came on and off at the same times, but Iris didn’t feel them move inside her. It was like being inside a snow globe someone kept shaking gently-never enough to hurt, never enough to stop.
The lady had been nice.
That was important. Iris knew how to tell the difference between mean people and nice people. Nice people used soft voices. Nice people knelt down instead of standing over you. Nice people asked if you wanted apple slices or crackers, even when you didn’t really want either.
This lady’s name was Gabby.
Gabby had brown hair she tied back with a scrunchie that sometimes slipped loose. She smelled like soap and clean clothes and something warm Iris couldn’t name. When Iris had cried the first night-quietly, because crying loudly made her chest hurt-Gabby had sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed slow circles on her back until the crying turned into hiccups.
Gabby was nice.
The other lady hadn’t been.
The one with red hair and green eyes.
She’d smiled too much. Her smile didn’t move the same way Gabby’s did. When she spoke, her voice sounded happy, but her eyes didn’t match. Iris had learned that sometimes smiles were like masks you wore so people wouldn’t see your real face.
That lady hadn’t come back again.
Iris didn’t ask where she went.
She had learned that asking questions didn’t always bring answers. Sometimes it just made the air feel heavier.
The room Iris stayed in wasn’t bad. It had a bed with soft sheets and a blanket that smelled faintly like laundry soap. There were toys-new ones, still shiny. Dolls with perfect hair. A puzzle missing no pieces. Crayons arranged in a neat box.
But there were no other kids.
And the door stayed closed.
She wasn’t allowed to go outside. Not even to the window that looked like it might open. Gabby said it wasn’t
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safe yet. That word-yet-had become a small hope Iris carried around in her pocket, rubbing it smooth like a lucky stone.
Soon, Gabby always said.
You’ll see them soon.
Iris believed her.
She wanted to.
But belief got tired, the same way her legs got tired when she walked in circles around the room pretending it was a park. The same way her arms got tired holding dolls that didn’t talk back.
She missed Mommy most at night.
At night, the quiet got louder. It pressed against her ears until memories leaked in: Mommy’s laugh when Sabine tried to eat soap bubbles. Daddy’s serious face when he pretended not to smile at George’s jokes. George pulling her hand when he got scared of thunder.
She missed Sabine’s sticky hugs.
She missed George’s questions.
She missed Daddy’s smell-clean and warm and steady.
She missed her aunts and her uncle, all of them loud and comforting and familiar.
Mostly, she missed being allowed to leave a room.
That afternoon, Iris sat cross-legged on the rug, coloring the same picture she’d colored before. A house. A sun. Stick figures holding hands. She added Sabine last, making her extra small, because Sabine was still little.
Gabby watched from the chair near the door, pretending to read but really watching Iris breathe, move, exist.
“I’m tired,” Iris said suddenly.
Gabby looked up immediately. “Tired like sleepy, or tired like bored p>
Iris frowned, thinking. “Both p>
Gabby smiled softly. “That makes sense p>
“I want my mommy,” Iris said, voice wobbling despite her trying to keep it steady. She was seven. Seven-year- olds were supposed to be brave.
Gabby stood and crossed the room, kneeling down so their eyes were level. “I know,” she said gently. “I promise you’re going to see her p>
“When?” Iris asked.
“Soon,” Gabby said again.
Iris’s shoulders slumped. “You always say that p>
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Gabby didn’t argue. That made Iris feel strange-like she’d won and lost at the same time.
“I don’t have friends here,” Iris went on. “And I can’t go outside. And George would hate this place p>
Gabby’s lips pressed together. “George sounds like he has a lot of opinions p>
“He does,” Iris said seriously. “He would ask too many questions p>
Gabby huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds right p>
Iris picked at a loose thread on the rug. “Can I go home today p>
Gabby hesitated.
It was a small thing, that pause. Iris noticed it anyway.
“Not today,” Gabby said carefully. “But soon p>
That word again.
Later, when the lights dimmed and the room softened into evening, Gabby helped Iris into pajamas. She brus
her hair gently, humming under her breath.
stay?” Iris asked.
ttle bit,” Gabby said.
She pulled the blanket up to Iris’s chin and tucked it in the way Mommy used to-firm but gentle, like she wanted the blanket to stay exactly where it was.
Iris closed her eyes.
She was almost asleep when the sound came.
Voices.
Not Gabby’s.
Heavy footsteps in the hall. Loud. Wrong.
Iris’s eyes snapped open.
The door burst open without knocking.
Two men filled the doorway.
They were big. Wide shoulders. Dark clothes. Their faces were hard, like they’d forgotten how to soften them. The room felt smaller with them in it.
Gabby stood so fast her chair tipped back.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaking despite her trying to keep it calm.
One of the men spoke. His voice was flat, impatient. “Change of plans p>
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The other added, “This location’s been compromised p>
Iris didn’t know what compromised meant, but she knew it wasn’t good. Her heart started beating too fast.
Gabby stepped in front of the bed without thinking. “I just need a moment,” she said. “I need to get her ready p>
The first man took a step forward.
Then he grabbed Gabb
Hard.
Iris gasped.
“Hey!” Gabby cried, panic breaking through. “Please-just give me five minutes p>
The man’s grip tightened. “We don’t have a moment p>
Iris scrambled to sit up, clutching the blanket. “Stop!” she shouted, her voice small but fierce. “You’re hurting her p>
The man looked at Iris for the first time, irritation flickering across his face.
The other man checked the hallway, then sighed. “Five minutes,” he said to his partner. “Only five. If you’re not ready, I’ll drag you down myself p>
Gabby nodded frantically. “Five minutes. I swear p>
The men left, the door slamming behind them.
Silence crashed into the room.
Gabby stood there, shaking.
Then she dropped to her knees in front of Iris, hands trembling as she cupped Iris’s face.
“Listen to me,” Gabby said urgently, her eyes shiny with fear and something else-determination. “I need you to be very brave right now p>
Iris nodded, tears spilling despite her trying to hold them back. “I don’t want to go with them p>
“I know,” Gabby whispered. “I know p>
She brushed Iris’s tears away quickly. “I’m going to take you to your parents p>
Iris’s breath caught. “Really p>
“Yes,” Gabby said, nodding hard. “I promise. I have a plan p>
Hope flared bright and sudden in Iris’s chest-fragile, terrifying.
“You’ll see Mommy,” Gabby continued. “And Daddy. And George and Sabine. All of them p>
Iris threw her arms around Gabby’s neck, clinging with all her strength. “I want to go home p>
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“I know,” Gabby said, holding her tight. “And we’re going to try p>
Somewhere outside the door, a man shouted for them to hurry.
Gabby pulled back, wiping her face, forcing her voice steady. “Okay, sweetheart. Shoes on. Jacket on. Just like we practiced p>
Iris nodded, heart pounding.
Home.
The word felt close enough to touch.
And for the first time in a long while, Iris believed soon might actually mean something.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.