Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode Thirty Three

“Who the hell was that? That was not our daughter,” Greg muttered, his voice thick with confusion and disbelief as he turned toward Cindy. His eyes, wide and searching, reflected the same unsettling mix of emotions that had been brewing since Madison left the room. He felt like he was trying to grasp at something that kept slipping through his fingers, some semblance of normalcy, of the Madison he once knew. 

Cindy, still sitting on the floor of the habitat, shook her head, just as bewildered as Greg. “I don’t know…” she said softly, her voice trailing off as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. “It looked like our daughter, but it didn’t sound like the Madison who has graced us these past couple years.” 

There was an eerie calm to the whole interaction, and that’s what unnerved them the most. Madison had been sweet, so sweet it felt almost unnatural. She hadn’t snapped, hadn’t rolled her eyes or groaned in frustration like she used to. Instead, she had smiled, reassured them, spoken in that chipper, sing-song tone that felt so wrong, so at odds with the sharp-edged teenager they had raised. The contrast was disorienting, leaving them both reeling in the wake of her departure. 

Greg stared at the spot where Madison had been standing moments before, his mind racing as he replayed the conversation over and over. “Madison normally has more…,” Cindy started, her tone shifting as she leaned into an exaggerated teenage whine, mocking the daughter they used to know. “‘You’re ruining my life,’” she said, imitating Madison’s dramatic tone perfectly. “‘Why do you have to be so embarrassing?’” Cindy rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of Madison’s patented teenage exasperation, the kind that had filled their household for years. She sighed heavily, throwing in the familiar dramatic touch that Madison always used when she thought they were overstepping their bounds. 

The imitation was so accurate, it would have been funny if it weren’t for the growing dread beneath it. 

Greg managed a half-smile, but it quickly faded. The comparison between the old Madison and the new one—this unsettlingly sweet, composed version of her,only deepened the unease settling in his chest. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, thoughtful. “That’s more like the Madison we knew.” He paused, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “I don’t know who that was just now. It’s like she’s playing some new role… like she’s trying to be someone else.” 

Cindy sighed, leaning back against the cool wall of the habitat. “She was trying too hard, wasn’t she? It was almost… fake,” she said, her brows furrowing as the realization took hold. “She was too nice, too understanding. She’s never like that, not even on her best days. There’s always a bit of bite to her.” 

Greg nodded, a grim look crossing his face. “Exactly. It felt off. Like she’s playing at being this perfect, loving daughter, but we both know that’s not her. She was too calm, too controlled. That’s not Madison.” He paused, the words hanging in the air between them, heavy with unspoken fears. “Do you think she actually believes all of this? Like, she really thinks this is what’s best for us?” 

The question lingered, uncomfortably twisting around Cindy’s thoughts. She didn’t want to believe it, that Madison could be so deeply convinced that what she was doing was right, that turning them into Littles was somehow for their own good. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed plausible. Madison’s sweetness, her careful words, it wasn’t just manipulation. There was something genuine there, something unnervingly sincere.  

“I think… she does,” Cindy said quietly, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke the thought aloud. “I think she really believes this is what we need. That this is the life we’re supposed to have now. Shes applying my teachings to us and this is just somehow next step.” 

Greg’s jaw tightened as he tried to process that. The idea that Madison, their once-rebellious, moody daughter, had transformed into someone who now saw herself as their caretaker, their guardian, it was almost too much to bear. He could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, the helplessness that had been gnawing at him for days now pushing closer to the edge. 

“It’s like she’s rewritten everything,” Greg said, his voice rough with frustration. “She’s taken everything you taught her and twisted it. Turned it into something else, something she can use to justify keeping us here.” 

Cindy let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair as she tried to calm herself. “But why, Greg? Why is she like this now? One minute she’s the same old Madison, giving us attitude and pushing our buttons, and now…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to find the words to describe this new version of their daughter. 

Greg clenched his fists, his eyes darkening as he stared out of the habitat, his mind spinning with questions he didn’t have answers to. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, simmering whisper. “But this version of her… I don’t trust it. It feels like we’re just waiting for her to snap. Like she’s trying so hard to be something she’s not, and any minute now, it’s going to break.” 

Cindy shivered, hugging her knees to her chest as the realization hit her. This was worse. The old Madison, the one with all her teenage angst and defiance, had been predictable, at least. You knew where you stood with her. But this? This smiling, sweet Madison, so full of love and care, felt like a trap waiting to spring. Every word laced with kindness, every gesture filled with affection, it all felt like part of something larger, something they couldn’t quite see yet. 

“You’re right,” Cindy whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t trust it either.” 

They sat there in silence, the air heavy with the weight of their thoughts, both of them staring out of the habitat at the room beyond. The room where their daughter, their Madison, had once lived, filled with teenage clutter and rebellion. Now, it felt like a distant memory, something that had been replaced by this strange, unsettling new reality. 

And as much as they wanted to believe that the old Madison was still in there somewhere, buried beneath the layers of this new role she was playing, they couldn’t help but wonder: would she ever come back? Or was this sweet, carefully crafted version of Madison here to stay, a permanent reminder of how far their world had shifted? 

“The worst part of all this,” Greg muttered, his voice laced with frustration, “is that we have nothing to do in here. I hate admitting it, but we’re completely reliant on her putting one of her old iPhones in here. I just can’t believe even our entertainment, our ability to know what’s going on in the world, is now dependent on Madison.” His words hung in the air, sharp with bitterness as he stared at the pink carpeted floor of the habitat, his hands balling into fists. 

Cindy nodded slowly, the weight of his statement sinking into her. She knew Greg wasn’t just talking about entertainment or news. It was everything—their entire lives. Their ability to move, to eat, to do anything at all hinged on the whims of their teenage daughter. The sheer absurdity of it felt like a slap in the face every time she allowed herself to think about it. 

“I know, Greg,” she replied quietly, her voice steady but filled with resignation. “Our lives… they revolve around Madison now.” Cindy’s words echoed in the small space, the truth of them cutting deep. It wasn’t just that they needed Madison for something as basic as access to an iPhone. It was the larger, more terrifying reality that they were completely and utterly dependent on her for everything. 

Greg exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “It’s not right,” he muttered. “We used to be the ones deciding things—what to watch, where to go, what to do with our time. Now we’re just… sitting here, waiting for her to decide what’s next.” His voice cracked slightly with the last word, the enormity of their situation pressing down on him like an oppressive weight. 

The silence between them grew heavy, the stillness of the habitat amplifying the sense of entrapment. Cindy glanced up at the clear walls that surrounded them, the transparent barrier between them and the outside world only serving as a constant reminder of their powerlessness. There was nothing they could do but wait—wait for Madison to come back, wait for her to decide if and when they could engage with the world beyond these walls. 

Cindy sighed, pulling her knees to her chest as she rested her chin on them. “It’s like we’re in a fishbowl,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “We’re just… here, and she’s out there living her life. Meanwhile, we’re stuck in here, hoping she’ll throw us a line.” She blinked back the frustration that threatened to spill over, swallowing hard as she fought to maintain some semblance of composure. 

Greg could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, his hands clenched tightly as he fought the urge to punch the wall in front of him. “I never thought it would come to this,” he admitted, his voice low and bitter. “Never thought I’d be waiting on my own daughter to hand me something as basic as a phone just so I could get a glimpse of the outside world.” 

Cindy’s heart ached as she listened to him. She felt it too—the loss of control, the suffocating dependence—but hearing it in Greg’s voice made it feel even more real. “I guess this is how Littles have always lived,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Waiting for someone to decide when they get to engage with the world. It’s just… it’s just not something I ever thought would happen to us.” 

Greg turned to her, his eyes dark with frustration and grief. “We weren’t supposed to be here, Cindy,” he said, his voice tight. “We weren’t supposed to be Littles. We were supposed to be the ones with the power, the ones making the decisions.” He let out a hollow laugh, the bitterness clear in his tone. “And now look at us—relying on Madison to decide if we can watch the news or read a book. It’s pathetic.” 

Cindy shook her head slowly, her fingers tracing the grooves in the floor beneath her. “It’s not fair, Greg. None of this is fair.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the emotional toll of their situation weighing heavily on her. She had spent her life fighting for guardianship rights, for the structure and order that Littles should follow. She had believed in the system, trusted it. But now that it had ensnared her and Greg, it was like waking up in a nightmare she couldn’t escape. 

Greg fell silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the outside world just beyond the transparent walls. The room around them, once so familiar, now felt like a prison. The soft hum of the house, the distant ticking of the clock on Madison’s nightstand, only heightened the sense of confinement. It all seemed so far away—so unattainable. 

He swallowed hard, the anger simmering in his chest giving way to a painful acceptance. “We’re not just waiting for her to hand us a phone, Cindy,” he said quietly. “We’re waiting for her to give us permission to live. To decide when we get to do anything at all. It’s more than just the news or entertainment—it’s our whole damn lives.” 

Cindy’s breath hitched at his words, her chest tightening as the truth of it hit her like a tidal wave. Greg was right. This wasn’t just about the phone or about missing out on the world beyond the habitat. It was about the control they no longer had. The autonomy they had lost. They were at Madison’s mercy, and that realization gnawed at Cindy’s insides like a festering wound. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet of the habitat was suffocating, the weight of their new reality settling over them like a heavy blanket. The idea of relying on Madison—the same daughter who had once relied on them for everything—felt like a betrayal of the natural order of things. And yet, that was their life now. They couldn’t even pretend otherwise. 

“I hate this,” Cindy whispered, her voice raw with emotion. “I hate that we’re stuck like this. That we have no control anymore.” 

Footsteps thundered up the staircase, each one pounding like a drumbeat that reverberated through the walls and floor of the habitat. Greg and Cindy bolted upright as the familiar sound of Madison’s heavy tread echoed down the hallway, her approach unmistakable. The floorboards creaked under her weight, each step sending a shiver through the quiet space they occupied. 

Madison swept into the room, not even glancing at them at first, her focus entirely on her own tasks. She moved straight to the nightstand, grabbing a hair scrunchie and pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail, her fingers deftly gathering the strands. The motion was casual, almost thoughtless, but to Greg and Cindy, it was a reminder of just how big—how powerful—she seemed now. 

She turned, walking back toward the door, her footsteps loud against the hardwood floor. But then, as if only just remembering they were there, she looked down at them with a smile that was all sweetness and light. “Had to get the hair out of my eyes,” she said, her tone soft, almost playful. “What’s wrong, guys? You wanting to help me downstairs with the cleaning?” 

Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance, unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t like they had a choice. The irony of her question hung heavy in the air—helping her wasn’t something they could offer, not anymore. But Madison’s obliviousness to that fact only deepened the unease they felt. 

“I know you must feel bad that you can’t help,” she continued, her voice dripping with understanding. “Well, right now, you can help me by eating your breakfast pellets.” She gestured casually toward the small pile of pellets still scattered on the pink carpet. Her smile widened, bright and loving, as if she were offering them a gift, a small way to contribute to her world. “I just want to get these chores done before Brooklyn and Evan come over. You can help me next time, okay?” 

Her tone remained soft, her words gentle, but it was clear there was no room for argument. She didn’t expect a response—she expected compliance. 

Greg and Cindy both stared up at her, the tension in their small bodies palpable. It was impossible not to feel the pressure of her gaze, the weight of her expectations, and the sheer size of her presence. She was towering above them now, both literally and figuratively, and every word out of her mouth seemed to reinforce that fact. They weren’t parents anymore. They were part of her world, there to support her, to obey her whims. 

As Madison turned to leave, her hand still fiddling with the scrunchie in her hair, she paused at the doorway. There was a brief moment of silence as she glanced back, a spark of realization flickering in her eyes. 

“I’m so stupid,” she said, her voice light with self-deprecation, as if she’d forgotten something important. “I know why you must be like this.” She flashed them another smile, this one almost conspiratorial, as though they shared some inside joke. 

Greg and Cindy felt a strange, sinking feeling as they watched her reach toward her nightstand. Her fingers hovered over her digital assistant. “Lyla, play morning playlist,” Madison instructed, her voice saccharine-sweet. 

A digital voice filled the room: “Playing Madison’s Morning Playlist from Madison’s Generify account.” 

Moments later, the room exploded with the sounds of blaring teenage pop anthems. The upbeat, pounding rhythms filled every corner, drowning out whatever quiet Greg and Cindy had been clinging to. It was the soundtrack of Madison’s life, her world—bright, energetic, and full of the kind of youthful exuberance that now felt foreign to them. 

“There you guys go,” Madison said over the noise, her voice barely audible but still carrying that same sickly-sweet tone. “You’re welcome. Love you. Be good.” 

With that, she disappeared from the room, her footsteps fading down the hall, leaving Greg and Cindy alone in the echo of the music. The door remained open, the sounds of her moving through the house mixing with the relentless pop songs now filling the space around them. 

Greg sat back down slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the couch inside the habitat as he stared blankly ahead. The absurdity of it all was almost too much to process. They were caged, living in this strange, artificial world where even their entertainment—if you could call it that—was dictated by Madison’s whims. 

Cindy let out a long, quiet breath, her eyes focused on the pink carpet below. The brightness of the music grated against her, a stark contrast to the darkness of their thoughts. The cheerful, catchy lyrics bouncing off the walls only heightened the suffocating sense of entrapment. 

“She really thinks this is helping, doesn’t she?” Cindy murmured, half to herself, half to Greg. 

Greg nodded, his jaw tight with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “Yeah. She thinks she’s doing us a favor.” 

The music pounded on, the lyrics singing about freedom, fun, and the joy of youth—all things that now seemed out of reach for Greg and Cindy. The cheerful beats mocked them, reminding them of the life they’d once lived, a life that was slipping further and further away. 

“I can’t take this,” Cindy whispered, her voice breaking. “We’re just… we’re stuck here, Greg. In her world, with her music, her rules. And there’s nothing we can do about it.” 

Greg didn’t answer right away, his mind still racing, still trying to wrap itself around the reality of their situation. Madison’s morning playlist continued to blare in the background, each song more upbeat than the last, but all he could hear was the suffocating silence between him and Cindy—the silence that spoke of their helplessness, their loss. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, barely audible over the music. “We’ll figure something out. We have to.” 

But as the music swelled around them, loud and relentless, it was hard to believe his words. They sat in the habitat, surrounded by the bright, vibrant sounds of Madison’s world, and the stark reality of their own caged existence became even more glaring. 

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