𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 ⇨ 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓

TENSION at the LaRusso household was palible, so thick it was suffocating. Ever since the night of the Halloween dance, when everything had imploded, Katherine and Samantha hadn't shared more than clipped phrases or cold glances. Not a single laugh between them. Not even a passing "good morning." Amanda tried to keep things normal, playing the mediator with soft encouragements and casual nudges, but even she couldn't ignore the invisible line drawn between the girls. Her usual warm smile had become tight with concern. 

Daniel, for his part, alternated between confusion and frustration. He'd ask, more than once, what had happened that night, pressing gently at first, then more directly when neither girl cracked. Each time, he was met with a carefully constructed wall of shrugs, muttered "nothing"s, and quick exits. Even Anthony noticed something was off, and that said a lot. Normally too wrapped up in his video games and snacks to care about anything outside his own orbit, he had actually paused his game the other night to ask, "Why's everyone acting so weird?" 

The quiet unsettled him. The dinners, once filled with stories, laughter, and the occasional sarcastic jab, were now hushed affairs, where forks clinked against plates a little too loudly and no one made eye contact for too long. Katherine barely ate anymore, picking at her food with a sullen look, eyes downcast, as though staring into her plate might save her from confrontation. Samantha, on the other hand, put up a facade of normalcy that cracked at the edges. She laughed a little too loud at things on her phone, smiled a little too wide when her parents looked her way, anything to avoid the tension radiating from across the table.

The worst part? They didn't even fight. There were no screaming matches, no door slams, no name-calling, just a chilling silence that said everything. Even the house itself felt changed. The once-cozy family room seemed colder, quieter. Samantha's laughter didn't ring out from upstairs anymore, and Katherine's playlists no longer played through her bedroom speakers. The silence stretched and stretched, until it felt like even the walls were listening, waiting for someone, anyone to crack. And still, no one did.

The night Samantha came home from her movie date with Kyler, something inside her cracked. The ride home had been suffocating, too quiet, too loud, all at once. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as the events of the evening replayed like a broken reel: Kyler's hand creeping where it didn't belong, the press of his smirk, the way her voice had caught in her throat when she told him to stop. The way he hadn't listened. By the time she stepped through the front door, her chest was tight, her limbs stiff, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. 

The air inside the house felt heavier than usual, as though even the walls could sense her unraveling. Her feet carried her upstairs on autopilot, quiet steps muffled against the carpet. The hallway felt endless. Her bedroom door waited just a few steps away, safe and familiar. But instead, she stopped in front of the one across the hall. Katherine's door. They hadn't spoken in days. Only if you counted a few stiff greetings, averted eyes, the sound of footsteps going in opposite directions. But now, staring at the grain of the wooden door, Samantha realized how deeply she missed her.