Dean and Hugo arrived early the next morning, the sun barely creeping over the horizon, casting long shadows in the quiet house. Hugo, ever the early riser, was already in the kitchen, making a valiant attempt at breakfast. The smell of sizzling sausage filled the air, but Dean, hands on hips, wasn't really focusing on food. The twins were running amok, their shrill voices echoing as they turned the house into an obstacle course, pretending to be soldiers in some epic combat game.

"Now I get why Kim can't stop complaining," Dean muttered under his breath as he dodged a flying plastic sword.

"Yeah, welcome to the chaos," Hugo said without missing a beat, flipping the sausages in the pan. He grinned at Dean, though there was a trace of concern in his eyes.

Just then, Liam's sharp, wailing cry filled the house, setting the stage for another round of madness. Both of them exchanged a tired, knowing look.

"Take care of him while I check on Kim," Dean said, already heading for the stairs before Hugo could protest.

"Why don't we switch?" Hugo asked, arching an eyebrow. "You're pretty good with the kids."

"Don't worry, I'm good," Dean replied, winking as he moved past him. 

"Smart pants," Hugo mumbled under his breath as he focused on the sausages.

Dean knocked gently on Kim's door but received no answer. He tried again, this time knocking harder.

"Kim?" he called, his voice tinged with concern.

From inside the room, Kim's muffled, groggy voice shot back. "Mom, the alarm isn't ringing!"

Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head as he turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

"Mom isn't here," he said, stepping into the room. "It's Dean, and the time's already 7:05."

Kim didn't move at first. She just yanked the duvet up to cover her head. "It's not 6:30 yet," she grumbled, sounding half-conscious.

Dean's eyes scanned the room—clothes strewn about like a battlefield, empty mugs, and textbooks stacked haphazardly. He couldn't help but smile, though it was more out of exhaustion than amusement.

"Kim, your—"

"Where's my mom?" She cut him off sharply, sitting up so fast that her hair whipped around her face.

Dean paused, hesitating just a second too long. "Great, you're in denial," he muttered under his breath.

"Mom!" Kim screamed, her voice cracking in a way that hit Dean harder than expected.

"Dad!" she yelled, her panic rising. "Mom!" she shouted again, her feet moving toward the door.

Dean quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back gently but firmly. "Need a preview of what happened yesterday?" he asked, his voice quiet but serious.

Kim's face contorted with disbelief. "It was a dream, right? This isn't real. My parents can't be gone."

Dean sighed deeply, his hand still resting on her wrist as he led her back to the bed. "It was real, Kim. You have to accept it."

Kim sank onto the bed, the weight of his words pressing on her chest. "So, it wasn't a dream?" she whispered, her voice small, almost fragile.

"No," he replied softly, sitting down next to her. He watched her, trying not to notice how utterly wrecked she looked, her eyes red and tired. But there was something raw and vulnerable about her in that moment, something he wasn't used to seeing. The Kim he knew was always brash, always tough. And yet, here she was, broken in a way that made Dean's heart ache.

"You should get ready for school," he said after a pause, his tone light to mask the discomfort. "We have that biology test today."

Kim didn't even look at him. "What's the point?" she muttered. "I'll probably end up with an F anyway."

"Kim," Dean said, frustration creeping into his voice. "Just get ready. It's better to take the F than miss the test and get nothing."

"I can just report sick," she grumbled, her words laced with sarcasm.

Dean's lips twitched into a smile. "I found a way to get the school bus to pick up the twins every morning. Thanks to a tech-savvy online friend who can make anything believable."

"I don't even wanna know," Kim said, pulling the duvet over her head again. "Just let me sleep my life away."

Dean sighed and walked toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. "Kim, we're waiting for you downstairs."

She didn't answer.

"And please, do something about your room. I've never seen a girl's room this messy."

Kim's muffled voice came from under the duvet. "I'm not complaining."

"Whatever," Dean said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Your room, your rules."

Kim's faint smile was the only thing he left behind as he closed the door, leaving her to gather herself.

By the time Kim made her way downstairs, the house had a somewhat normal rhythm to it. Hugo was still at the stove, cooking up the last of the sausages. The twins were dressed for school and bouncing around the dining room, too hyped up on sugar and excitement for anyone's good. Dean sat at the table, trying to look like he wasn't stressed out of his mind, but the way his fingers drummed on the tabletop betrayed him.

"Hey, Kim," Hugo waved without looking up from the pan.

"Hey," she replied flatly, her voice lacking the usual bite.

Dean pointed at the plate of food in front of her. "Your food's here."

"I'm not hungry," she said, turning toward the front door.

"At least be nice and wait for us," Hugo called after her.

"I'm walking to school," she muttered, not even pausing to look back. "I need to clear my head."

Dean's voice rose with a mix of concern and disbelief. "Are you crazy? It's like a 25-minute walk from here."

"I'll be fine," she said with a shrug, already reaching for the house phone.

She dialed Sandra's number without hesitation. "Hey, Sandra, are you coming today?"

"Kiddo," Sandra answered, her voice colder than usual. "I don't work for your parents anymore. Got another job, higher pay. I quit."

Kim's heart sank. "Did you tell my parents?"

"Yeah, I did. Bye."

Kim stood there, frozen for a moment before dropping the phone back into its cradle. She wasn't sure how to feel. It wasn't like she had a choice in the matter, but it stung.

"Well, no more babysitter," she sighed.

"Liam will stay with my mom," Dean said, his voice low. "She's off duty until midnight."

Kim nodded, her movements robotic. She didn't say anything more as she grabbed her headphones and slipped them on, drowning out the noise of the house as she stepped out into the cool morning air. The weight in her chest didn't let up. Every step felt heavier than the last. The music in her ears did nothing to quiet the gnawing thoughts swirling in her mind.

She walked in silence, the only company her own heavy heart, her thoughts churning with everything that had happened—and everything still to come.

                                                                  ((...)) ((...))

When Kim arrived at school, Dean and Hugo noticed something was off. Though she didn't appear tired, there was a clear shift in her demeanor. As they walked to class together, Dean asked, "Which road did you take? We didn't see you on our way." Kim shrugged, replying simply, "I used the shortcut."

Inside the classroom, she took her usual seat by the window, her expression distant. Mr. Finn greeted the class with his usual energy, asking if everyone was ready for the test. Kim, uninterested, ticked off random answers without a second thought and submitted the test early, leaving the classroom without permission.

The hallways were quiet as she made her way to her locker. She didn't feel like attending the rest of her classes, so she dumped her books into her locker and headed straight home, hoping for some sign that everything was normal.

But when she entered the house, it was eerily silent. "Mom? Dad?" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper. She climbed upstairs to their room, only to find it untouched, exactly as it had been the day before. The emptiness hit her hard. Tears welled in her eyes as a wave of anger and sadness overwhelmed her. In a fit of frustration, she began throwing things around the room. The ache in her chest intensified, and before long, she collapsed onto the bed, crying until exhaustion took over and she fell into a restless sleep.

                                                                             ((...)) ((...))

The noise from downstairs dragged Kim out of a restless sleep. Her head throbbed with the aftermath of last night's emotional chaos, and as her eyes scanned the mess she'd left behind—broken objects scattered across the room like casualties of a war—she groaned, feeling the weight of her frustration settling into her skull.

With a sluggish sigh, she pushed herself out of bed and stumbled downstairs. She could hear the familiar sound of video game button-mashing and laughter echoing through the house. Of course, Dean and Hugo were at it again.

"What time is it?" Kim called out, standing in the doorway of the living room, where they were both glued to the TV screen, immersed in a battle of virtual mayhem.

Dean barely looked up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Finally, you're up," he said, his voice dripping with mock relief. "It's almost eight. The kids are sleeping, and you're welcome, by the way."

Kim rolled her eyes, ignoring the jab as she caught sight of Hugo, who gave her a sheepish grin, like he was silently rooting for her to survive another chaotic day. She muttered something under her breath, shaking her head at him, and made her way to the kitchen.

She rummaged through the fridge, pulling out whatever she could find—some cereal, a half-empty carton of milk, and a granola bar. She plopped herself onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, shoving the food into her mouth with mechanical efficiency. She needed something to fill the pit in her stomach, though nothing could ease the ache in her chest.

Dean entered, sliding into the seat next to her, his eyes narrowing with concern.

"How are you doing?" he asked softly, glancing at her sideways.

"Good," Kim muttered, her voice flat. She could feel the lie hanging in the air between them.

"Liar," Dean shot back, his tone teasing but knowing. "You almost broke the wall upstairs."

Kim snorted, rolling her eyes. "Just letting out some steam," she said, her gaze falling to the countertop as if the truth was too heavy to face.

Dean's expression softened, his voice turning serious. "We promise we'll help. You'll get through this."

Kim's laugh was bitter, laced with the same frustration that had been festering in her all day. "What do I know about parenting?" she shot back. "What do any of you know about parenting? Hell, I'd rather drop my siblings at an orphanage than deal with this."

"Ouch," Dean said, clutching his chest dramatically, but there was no real humor behind the action. He knew she was hurting.

"Get lost," Kim muttered, pushing her plate away as her appetite soured.

Dean paused for a beat, standing up as if he was expecting some kind of reply, but Kim didn't say a word. He sighed, long and resigned, before turning to leave the kitchen.

"Anyways, we're heading out," he said, his voice softening slightly. "Be a good sister."

Kim didn't look up as he left, the silence between them louder than any words could be. She stared at the plate, her stomach twisting in knots, and before she knew it, the food was in the trash. She wasn't hungry anymore. Nothing sounded good. She was running on fumes.

Walking into the living room, Kim flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking through channels until she found her favorite show. A few minutes of mindless TV, that's all she needed to numb the thoughts swirling in her mind.

But her brief escape was short-lived. A sudden, high-pitched wail pierced the air—the unmistakable cry of Liam. Kim winced, feeling the familiar tension coil in her chest. She kicked the couch in frustration, cursing under her breath.

"Great," she muttered, her fingers digging into the cushions. The day was already slipping out of her control, and she hadn't even had time to take a breath.