Something compels me to walk over to the safe and find the old tapes that night. Ever since dinner, they've been on my mind. It's now one in the morning and I'm wide awake.

I blow off the dust on the top of the safe but it doesn't do much. Using a small key, I unlock the safe and a small bag falls out, the size of a wallet. There's some old gum wrappers and coins in there but in the back of the safe is a tiny birthday bag holding a collection of disks.

I'm careful to be quiet on the way back to my room because Nico is sleeping in the living room. I was relaxed the entire time but now that the CDs are in my hands, I can feel my pulse racing.

Leaning against the wall inside my room, I open up my laptop and sift through the CDs, all carefully labeled with her handwriting. Just that alone is enough to make my heart clench.

For a second, I wonder if it'll be too much. It's been over ten years but I'm still not over it. I remind myself that this isn't something I'll ever be over and pull out a disk, sliding it into my laptop.

As the little loading icon swirls on my screen, I feel my heart running at a million miles per hour. It's getting harder to breathe. I try to intake a deep breath to steady myself but when it releases, it's shaky and all I can hear is fear.

Another breath. This time, it's more stable.

The video starts shakily but quickly focuses on toddler me wearing a pink ribbon dress over pants because my parents never let me wear dresses without pants when I was younger. I'm proudly holding up a frisbee painted with butterflies and heart.

"Look, mommy! Look what I painted!" I show off excitedly.

I can practically see the smile on her face when she replies, "Wow! You're so talented, pumpkin!"

My finger hits pause without me even realizing and I can already feel tears pouring out of my eyes, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Eight years. I haven't heard my mom's voice in eight years.

"Ok," I whisper to myself. "Ok."

I press resume and steady myself. Another deep breath.

"I want to show daddy!" Young me declares, searching swiftly for my dad.

"There he is!" my mom says, the camera moving to film my dad walking towards us with two bags of cotton candy in his hands.

"I want the pink one!" I shout as I sprint towards him. "Daddy, look! Look at what I painted!"

"Oh wow," he says, handing me the pink cotton candy in exchange for the frisbee. "You did this? All by yourself?"

"Yeah!" I answer proudly, now focused on the cotton candy. "The pink butterfly is me and the red one is you and the purple one is mommy because purple is mommy's favorite color!"

I hear my dad laugh and he pats my hair affectionately. "Here," he says to my mom, holding out the other cotton candy. "Give me the camera."

The second the camera focuses on my mom, I feel myself break. Odd crying and choking noises keep escaping my lips and my chin won't stop shaking. She's saying something but I can't hear her over my own sobs.

It's five A.M. when I finish all of the videos. All of the memories that I thought I had forgotten have reformed in my head.

Silently, I clean up the disks, place them in their bag, and get up to put them back in the safe.

On my way out, my gaze pauses on the door of my dad's room. It's open and I can hear his light snores from outside.

If I wasn't completely tired, I probably wouldn't but I start to walk inside.

"Dad," I whisper and he starts to wake up.

"Jennie, what are you doing?" he asks groggily.

"I... I watched the videos," I say. "The videos of mom."

He's extremely tired and probably a little annoyed too but he opens his eyes and sits up anyway.

When he opens his arms to me, I bury myself in them like I'm a little kid again, feeling shelter that I haven't felt in so long, and I know that I'm no longer alone.

A/N: thanks for reading! votes and comments r much appreciated :)