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

Madison hummed softly to herself as she sprayed the all-purpose cleaner across the kitchen counters, her ponytail swinging behind her with every bounce and sway of her body. The scent of the citrus cleaner filled the room as she wiped the countertops, her movements in sync with the upbeat rhythm of her favorite songs blaring from her phone. The music seemed to elevate her mood, her humming growing louder as she bobbed her head, completely absorbed in her task.

She moved with a casual grace, her energy unburdened by the weight of responsibility that now lay on her shoulders. To her, this was just another day, another chore to cross off the list. But as the kitchen counters gleamed under the glow of the afternoon light, a soft chirp interrupted her rhythm. She paused, glancing down at her phone, her expression brightening at the sight of Evan’s message.

Madison’s fingers flew over the screen, tapping out a quick reply before her attention shifted back to her task. She reached for the floor cleaner, her mind already drifting back to the mental checklist she’d been building for the day. But as she stood there, the kitchen momentarily quiet, she leaned against the counter, unscrewing the cap of her water bottle and taking a long drink.

The house felt so still in these moments—almost too still. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant creaks of the house settling—it all reminded her that she was alone in the responsibility of maintaining this space. Now that Mom isn’t here anymore… The thought crossed her mind with a strange blend of satisfaction and melancholy. She had stepped up. She had taken charge. But there was a weight to it too, a weight she hadn’t anticipated.

“Now that Mom isn’t here anymore, I need to step up and do this,” she murmured aloud, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the kitchen appliances. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the cold water still fresh on her lips as she set the bottle down on the counter. Her eyes scanned the kitchen, mentally noting what still needed to be done. “Kenzie deserves to come home to a clean house.”

Her voice had a note of determination, but there was something else underneath—something softer, almost vulnerable. Madison’s role had shifted so dramatically in such a short amount of time, and while she was proud of herself for managing the household, there were moments when the enormity of it all hit her. She had become the caretaker, the one responsible for maintaining order. Her sister was relying on her, and that was something she wasn’t about to take lightly.

“I’ll get the deep clean done today,” Madison thought aloud, more for her own benefit than anyone else’s. The house needed to be spotless—perfect—for when McKenzie came home. Once she finished, she could start thinking about how to involve her parents. There were ways they could help, after all. “I can have Mom and Dad help out once I get this deep clean done,” she mused, her tone thoughtful, almost excited at the idea. “I can get some tools for them… something they can handle, so they can efficiently clean the counters and maybe the floor.”

The image of her parents, Greg and Cindy, dutifully scrubbing the counters with miniature cleaning tools played out in her mind, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She wasn’t trying to be cruel. She genuinely believed this would give them a sense of purpose, something to do that made them feel useful. Littles still had their roles, after all—she had learned that much from her mother. And now, as their guardian, it was her job to make sure they felt included, that they understood their place in this new life.

Madison paused for a moment, her gaze drifting out of the kitchen window. Her thoughts circled back to the breakfast she’d shared with her parents earlier that morning. A faint pang of guilt flickered through her. It hadn’t been easy to break the news to them—that McKenzie was now her legal guardian, that their roles as parents had shifted. But it was necessary. They needed to know the truth.

They were her Littles now.

Madison took another sip from her water bottle, her throat tightening as she swallowed. She didn’t like having to explain things that way. It felt harsh, even though she hadn’t meant it to be. But they needed to understand, needed to accept that things had changed. McKenzie was her parent now, and while that might have been difficult for them to hear, it was better to be upfront about it. Better not to sugarcoat things.

“I didn’t want to lie to them,” Madison thought, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t want to build this whole guardian-to-Little bond on false pretenses. They have to know where they stand, even if it’s hard.” She sighed, running a hand absentmindedly through her ponytail. “I don’t want it to hinder them later… if they don’t accept it now.”

She pushed off the counter, straightening up as she resolved to finish her cleaning. There was still so much to do before Brooklyn and Evan arrived, and she didn’t want McKenzie to come home to anything less than perfect. As she moved through the kitchen, her thoughts lingered on her parents, on the delicate balance she was trying to strike between love and authority. She didn’t want to be the bad guy. She didn’t want them to resent her.

But they had to understand that things were different now. That this was their life.

With a determined nod, Madison grabbed the floor cleaner and began to spray the tiles, her mind already racing ahead to the next task. She had a house to clean, guests to entertain, and Littles to care for. There wasn’t time to second-guess herself.

Meanwhile, Greg and Cindy sat trapped in their habitat, the relentless thrum of Madison’s music reverberating around them. It was a bitter irony—the same music they had told her countless times to turn down or turn off was now their only companion, an unrelenting reminder of their diminished place in the household. The catchy beats and repetitive lyrics that once annoyed them now seemed to mock their powerlessness. Every pounding rhythm, every overproduced chorus, was like a needle in the side, reminding them that they no longer had the authority to demand silence.

The music filled every corner of their small world, offering no escape. They were prisoners in their own home, not even allowed the comfort of quiet. Greg sat hunched over, nibbling at one of the breakfast pellets, his thoughts elsewhere. The pellet tasted bland and dry, a far cry from the piece of chicken McKenzie had snuck him the night before. The contrast between that moment of rare indulgence and this—sitting here, forced to listen to Madison’s teenage playlist—was almost too much to bear.

Cindy, her eyes focused on Greg, could sense the tension in him. She could see his mind working, the way his jaw tightened every time he took another bite of the tasteless pellet. The weight of their situation was etched in every line on his face. “What did you and McKenzie talk about last night?” Cindy asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

Greg didn’t look at her immediately, instead staring down at the pellet in his hand as if it held the answers to all their problems. “Not a whole lot,” he finally said, his voice flat. His mind flickered back to the conversation with McKenzie, but more vividly, to the piece of chicken she’d given him. It had been heavenly, a brief respite from the endless monotony of these pellets. But McKenzie had made it clear—it was their secret. He wasn’t supposed to say anything, especially not to Cindy.

Cindy eyed him suspiciously, narrowing her gaze. “Greg, you guys didn’t talk about nothing.” Her voice had a slight edge to it. “Madison used to do that to me for years. Every time I asked her what she was up to, I’d get the same answer. ‘What did you do?’ I’d ask, and she’d just say ‘Nothing.’” Cindy leaned forward slightly, her tone growing sharper. “I know better than that.”

Greg sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to deflect. “You’re right, you’re right,” he admitted, glancing up at her. “I’m sorry. We talked about some things… McKenzie, she was telling me how she feels hurt that you don’t fully believe she can handle all of this.”

Cindy’s eyes widened slightly, a flash of concern crossing her face. “You told her that wasn’t true, right Greg? You told her I believe in her, didn’t you? That I just didn’t think she should have to handle it all. She’s my little girl—she always will be.” Her voice was insistent, bordering on pleading, as if she needed to know that Greg had smoothed things over with their eldest daughter.

Greg shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, yeah, of course. But, Cindy… McKenzie feels like you should have just believed in her. You know? Despite those misgivings. She’s upset because she thinks you didn’t trust her enough to let her take this on.”

Cindy huffed, frustration bubbling up inside her. “So, what did you tell her? Were you able to fix it?” Her tone was tinged with impatience, as if hoping Greg had somehow resolved everything in that conversation.

Greg hesitated, his eyes flicking away from Cindy’s. “Not exactly,” he said slowly, feeling the tension between them building. “She kind of… twisted things around. I tried to get her to understand that you were with her, that you support her, but she wasn’t having it. She’s too hurt by it.” He paused, exhaling softly. “It ended with her making me choose between you and her.”

Cindy’s eyes darkened as she stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Great,” she said bitterly, her arms folding across her chest. “So now she’s upset with both of us.” She let out a heavy sigh, the frustration clearly boiling over.

“Not exactly,” Greg said sheepishly, wincing as he saw Cindy’s expression shift from frustration to confusion—and then to something worse.

“What?” Cindy’s voice dropped, her tone sharp as a knife. “You didn’t side with me? What happened to ‘it’s us together’? What happened to ‘we’re all each other has’?” There was anger in her voice now, but also a deep hurt that cut through Greg like a blade. The betrayal in her eyes stung more than any reprimand she could have given.

Greg raised his hands defensively, trying to explain. “You weren’t there, Cindy. You don’t understand—I did this for both of us. McKenzie was going to take me back to Madison if she was upset with both of us. That wouldn’t have helped us. I’m in with McKenzie now. I can work on her from the inside.”

Cindy stared at him, her jaw clenched tightly as she processed what he’d just said. Her eyes flared with disbelief and anger, but underneath it, Greg could see the hurt. The realization that he had chosen McKenzie over her, even if it was for what he thought was the greater good, hung heavily between them.

“In with McKenzie,” Cindy repeated, her voice cold. “So what? You’re playing both sides now? Going behind my back to get in good with her?”

“No, no,” Greg said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not like that. I had to do it. If I didn’t, she would’ve cut me off. I wouldn’t be able to help either of us if I was stuck with Madison all the time. This way… this way I can keep us in McKenzie’s good graces.”

Cindy’s hands tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “You should’ve stood by me,” she hissed. “We said we’d get through this together. And now you’re saying you chose her? How am I supposed to trust you if you’re picking sides?”

Greg swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I’m not picking sides,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m just trying to keep us in a position where we can survive this. McKenzie’s our only chance to make this even remotely bearable.”

Cindy shook her head, turning away from him, her shoulders tense. “You don’t get it, Greg. We’re supposed to be a team. You and me. If we don’t have each other, then what do we have?”

Greg opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He knew she was right. They had promised to stick together, to face this nightmare side by side. And yet, here they were, divided by the very situation they had sworn would bring them closer.

The sound of Madison’s music continued to blare in the background, the upbeat pop songs a jarring contrast to the tension that now filled the habitat. Neither of them spoke for a long while, the air between them thick with unresolved anger and hurt.

And as Greg sat there, his mind racing, he couldn’t help but wonder if this choice—this attempt to protect them—had only driven them further apart.

Greg sat in suffocating silence, the relentless thrum of Madison’s music pressing in on him from all sides, drowning his thoughts in an unyielding, pulsating rhythm. The sugary pop songs, once an annoyance he could brush off with a roll of his eyes or a quick shout for Madison to turn it down, now felt like a cruel mockery. They were trapped—both physically and emotionally—in this prison of sound, where their authority had been stripped away, replaced by a helplessness he couldn’t quite comprehend.

He glanced over at Cindy, who had turned her back to him, her body stiff with anger. He could feel the distance between them growing, as tangible as the walls of the habitat that surrounded them. Her silence was louder than the music, a sharp, painful reminder of the choice he had made. The wrong choice, he thought, regret gnawing at him. He had aligned himself with McKenzie, thinking it would protect them, that it would offer some path forward in this twisted new reality. But now, sitting here, he realized the cost was far greater than he anticipated.

Greg swallowed hard, his throat dry, his mind racing. The irony wasn’t lost on him—the same music he used to complain about, the music he had begged Madison to turn down countless times, was now an unrelenting reminder of their fall from power. They had no say here. No control. The rhythm of their lives was dictated by someone else now, and it wasn’t just the beat of the music—it was Madison, and to some extent, McKenzie. He felt the walls closing in, the habitat shrinking around them, pressing them into an existence they never chose but could no longer escape.

“Cindy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise. He reached toward her, wanting to bridge the gap between them, but his hand faltered in the space between. She didn’t move. Her posture remained cold, her back rigid, and it deepened the hollow pit in his stomach.

“You don’t get it, Greg,” Cindy finally said, her voice barely cutting through the incessant music, but her tone sharp with icy resolve. “I needed you to stand with me. We’re supposed to be in this together. I can’t fight this alone.”

Greg’s hand dropped to his side, her words landing like a physical blow. He had thought aligning himself with McKenzie would protect them both, that it was a strategic move to navigate this nightmare. But now, it felt like he had made a grave mistake—one that was driving an irreversible wedge between him and the person he needed most. Cindy’s anger wasn’t just about the situation anymore—it was about him. He had failed her.

“I didn’t mean to…” Greg started, his voice weak, uncertain, as if he was trying to grasp something that was already slipping away. “I just thought—”

“Thought what?” Cindy snapped, turning sharply to face him. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears, held a mix of anger and heartbreak. “Thought you could play both sides? That you could cozy up to McKenzie while leaving me to fend for myself?”

“No, Cindy, that’s not it,” Greg stammered, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew how hollow they sounded. How could he explain to her that he thought this was their best chance? That this was his best chance? And yet, he could see the hurt etched in every line of her face.

“I don’t care what you thought,” Cindy’s voice cracked, the strain of her emotions seeping through. “You should have been with me, Greg. With us. Now… now I don’t even know what we are anymore.”

The sting of her words cut deep, and Greg’s chest tightened. He felt as if the air was being sucked out of the room, the walls of the habitat pressing in closer, the space between them too vast to breach. He had never felt this powerless, not even when they had first shrunk down into their new reality. This was different. This was a fracture—a deep, painful rift between them, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Before he could find the words to respond, the sound of Madison’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Hey, Littles! I’ve got some news for you!” Her tone was as bubbly and cheerful as ever, oblivious to the turmoil brewing just beneath the surface.

Greg and Cindy both stiffened, their argument forgotten for the moment as they turned toward their towering daughter. She stood at the entrance to her room, phone in hand, a wide grin plastered across her face.

“Guess what?” Madison’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Brooklyn and Evan are on their way! They can’t wait to see you guys. Isn’t that awesome?”

Greg’s stomach dropped. The last thing he wanted was to be put on display, paraded around like some kind of sideshow attraction for Madison’s friends. He exchanged a glance with Cindy, and for a moment, the tension between them was replaced by a shared sense of dread. Visitors. People who had once known them as parents, as adults, would now be seeing them as Littles—helpless, diminished versions of themselves. The thought made his skin crawl.

But Madison was completely unaware, or perhaps simply indifferent, to their discomfort. “I told them how well you’re both adjusting, and they’re super excited to hang out. I mean, how often do you get to see two Littles who were once your parents? This is going to be so fun!”

Fun. The word rang hollow in Greg’s ears. There was nothing fun about this. Nothing fun about being reduced to a spectacle for Madison’s friends to gawk at, to marvel over. But what could he do? He was powerless here, and he knew it. Cindy knew it too. She remained silent, her eyes hardening as she stared at the floor, anger and resentment pooling in the lines of her face.

“Be on your best behavior, okay?” Madison chirped, her voice tinged with the same condescending sweetness. “I want them to see how well you’re both adjusting, how perfectly you’ve adapted to Little life.”

Greg’s heart sank at her words. Perfectly adapted. As if this was something they could ever truly accept. He glanced at Cindy, but she was still staring down, her face set in a hard, unreadable expression. The anger she had felt toward him was now being redirected—to Madison, to the situation, to the entire twisted reality that had trapped them in this nightmare.

“Alright,” Madison said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll go get everything ready. You two just… sit tight.” She flashed them one last smile before spinning on her heel and leaving the room, the sound of her footsteps fading into the distance.

As soon as she was gone, the silence between Greg and Cindy returned, heavier than before. The weight of their unresolved argument, of the coming humiliation, pressed down on them, and the air in the habitat felt thick with tension.

Greg opened his mouth, wanting to say something—to apologize, to try and bridge the gap that had grown between them—but the words wouldn’t come. He felt trapped, not just by the physical walls of the habitat, but by the choices he had made. Choices that had driven a wedge between him and the woman he had promised to stand by, no matter what.

And so they sat in their tiny world, surrounded by Madison’s music, the weight of their situation hanging over them like a suffocating blanket. They were trapped—not just by the acrylic walls of the habitat, but by the power they had lost and the growing distance between them.

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