mess it up, ˢᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

Ten Years Later | Woodsboro

The bed was too quiet.

Madison stirred beneath the sheets, eyes fluttering open to soft, golden morning light spilling through half-closed curtains.

Her curls were a mess, frizzy, flattened in parts, puffed out in others. The bonnet she swore she'd grab before bed was somewhere across the room, likely abandoned during a chaotic nighttime routine of bedtime stories and spilled sippy cups.

But she didn't care.

Not when she could hear it.

Laughter.

High-pitched giggles. The low hum of her wife's voice, her wife, and the sound of something plastic hitting the floor.

Someone squealed, someone else barked orders like a miniature general. And through it all, Sam's laugh cut through, low, genuine and safe.

Madison smiled into the pillow, heart already full before her feet even hit the ground.

She sat up slowly, her joints aching the way they did sometimes, old injuries whispering reminders.

Her leg still flared up in colder weather. She'd long ago stopped resenting it; now, it was just a part of her story.

A part of her survival.

Madison slipped into her robe, cinching it tight.

She padded barefoot to the bedroom door and paused, listening.

"Randy, not the syrup—!"

Too late.

The squelch of a mess being made.

"I helpin', Mommy!" came a proud little voice.

"You sure are, buddy," Sam replied through a laugh, "but maybe let me help you help next time, okay?"

The kitchen came into view like a scene from a dream she'd never dared believe she'd live long enough to have.

Randy was on his tiptoes, reaching for the bottle of syrup now toppled sideways across the counter. His mop of dark curls bounced with each movement, his Spider-Man pajamas somehow already stained.

Olivia sat cross-legged on the floor, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around their pitbull-mix, who bore it all with the patience of a saint. She had Sam's stubborn attitude and Madison's dimples, and when she smiled, she made the entire world feel like it was going to be okay.

And Sam, her beautiful wife, stood in the middle of it all, barefoot in leggings and a baggy tee, flipping pancakes with one hand while trying to keep Randy from jumping off the counter.

Madison watched, silent for a moment, just breathing it all in.

There was a time, not so long ago, when all she could picture was blood. Hallways smeared red. Sirens in her ears. A weight in her chest so heavy she didn't think she'd ever stand up straight again.

There were nights she still woke up gasping. Sam, too. They both still carried it, the ghosts of then, but mornings like this were what kept those memories at bay.

"Mama's up!" Olivia squealed from the floor, immediately abandoning the dog to run toward Madison with outstretched arms.

Madison bent down, scooping her up even though her back protested the movement. "Good morning, my wild girl," she murmured, kissing her cheek.

Olivia touched her curls, examining the frizz with concern. "Your hair is crazy."

"Thanks, baby. So is your face," Madison joked, earning more laughter.