THE CHAIN, B. Barnes daughter

23. such crazy

Nosy ah neighbor. Guys how was Bucky getting money those years bro, was he laundering money?

I would launder money too

THE SUN WAS SHINING BRIGHTLY as Bucky and Seven stepped out of their tiny apartment in the small village in Romania. They were on their way to the market again, hoping to replace the groceries they had left behind during Seven's panic attack the previous day. Today felt different, though—calmer, as if the world had granted them a momentary reprieve from their troubles.

As they walked down the cobblestone path, their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Petrescu, approached them. She was a kindly old woman, always full of questions and gossip, her curiosity sometimes making Bucky a bit uneasy.

"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Petrescu greeted Seven with a warm smile before turning her inquisitive eyes to Bucky. "And good morning to you too, young man. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you properly yet."

"Good morning, Mrs. Petrescu," Seven replied politely, while Bucky gave a nod and a smile, trying to keep his nerves in check.

"Morning, ma'am," Bucky said, his mind racing to come up with answers that would maintain their low profile.

"Sorry! But I never got your names." She said.

Bucky couldn't tell her that his child's name was a number, that would be really weird and suspicious. So he lied about her name. "I'm James, and this is my daughter, Rebecca."

Bucky didn't know where he conjured up the name Rebecca, but it felt so familiar.

Mrs. Petrescu's eyes twinkled with interest. "Rebecca, what a lovely name! You both must be new to our little village. What brings you here?"

"We've been here a few months." Bucky cleared his throat, feeling a bit more on edge. "We're just looking for a quiet place to live. Needed a change of scenery, you know?"

Mrs. Petrescu nodded, though her curiosity was far from satisfied. "I see. And what do you do, James?"

Bucky hesitated for a split second before answering. "I'm... a writer. I work from home, mostly."

"A writer! How wonderful," she exclaimed, clearly pleased with his answer. "And what about you, Rebecca? Do you go to school here?"

Seven glanced at Bucky, who gave her a subtle nod. "No, ma'am. I'm homeschooled, papa teaches me everything I know."

"That's lovely to hear," Mrs. Petrescu said, smiling warmly at Seven. "You must be quite the bright young lady. What do you like to study?"

"Science," Seven replied, her nerves easing a bit as she slipped into the role Bucky had set for her. "I'm really interested in renewable energy."

"How impressive," Mrs. Petrescu said, clearly delighted. "You must be very proud, James."

"Very proud," Bucky replied, his smile genuine despite the underlying tension. "She's a smart kid."

Mrs. Petrescu's questions kept coming, her curiosity seemingly endless. "And where did you live before you came here?"

Lie, Bucky.

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

Bucky's mind raced as he tried to come up with a plausible answer. "We lived in... Austria. But we've moved around a lot. Just trying to find the right place to settle down."

Mrs. Petrescu nodded, though it was clear she had more questions. "I see. Well, I hope you find our village to your liking. It's a peaceful place."

"We do," Bucky said, hoping to steer the conversation towards a close. "It's been wonderful so far. Everyone's very welcoming."