I muffle a scream when the knock comes to the door. The wrong knock. Usually it's only Mother that ever comes to my door and Mother knows the right knock. Even if she'd sent someone to drop off a package (and only my books were on the schedule for later today), she'd ensure they knew the knock. Whoever that was at the door, they didn't know it. If they didn't know it, I didn't know them, and that meant danger. What was I going to do?

"Domina! Domina, you're a grown woman, stop cowering in your room and open up!"

Well, it certainly sounded like Mom's voice. Peeking through the window it certainly looked like her, too. A very unhappy her, to say the least, but that was pretty much her default.

"That's the wrong knock."

"For crying out loud, you know it's me!"

"Do the knock."

"Open the door, Sweetheart," she said in that sweet-yet-threatening way of hers, "or I break it down."

There's no doubt she'll do it. Mom doesn't like to be refused and I need my door. It keeps the outside out. Defeated, I slowly make my way downstairs.

The front hallway is dark. I'd flip on a light but I don't want to make it clear that I'm so close to the door. Besides, Mother doesn't like lights on during daytime. It's wasteful. She's still banging on the door as I approach. Every knock but the right one. Even through the peep hole it still looks like her, but you can't be too careful. The outside world is a dangerous place, far too dangerous to trust.

"Can you please just do the knock?"

"It's a crutch, Domina."

"I know that, Mother, but please, I feel an attack coming on."

"Oh fine," she says with a sigh, finally doing the proper knock.

I open the door and she shoves past me, marching upstairs in a huff. She left the door open, you can never leave the door open. I close it quickly and re-lock all six locks before following her. She's gone into the bathroom and through that door I hear her making use of my toilet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry, they're doing repairs at our place and I couldn't hold it until I got to work."

"Not very disciplined," I tease.

"Girl, I will drive you to the park!"

"No! Please, Mommy, I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"

"Just go wait in the living room."

"Yes, Mother."

I felt like a child again. This wasn't technically my house. Mother owned it. She'd given it to me when she'd decided that living on my own would help my condition. For a little while it had worked. I had started getting better, even managed to go into the back yard. Then the incident with the tree branch had happened. A storm had caused the old oak that once grew back there to break my bedroom window. The attack it provoked had been so bad I'd been hospitalized for a time. Now I never go into the yard. The stump Mother left is just too big a reminder of that night.

The woman herself came down once she'd refreshed. She was frowning, but at least it was her calm frown, the closest thing to a compassionate expression Mother has. If she had the slightly curled upper lip of her angry frown I don't know what I would have done. What to do with a threat inside the house is something I've never really been able to wrap my mind around.

"Domina, you really must work harder to overcome this fear of yours."

"I know, Mother. It's just, it feels like it's clamping down on my heart and I can't breathe and..."

"Work harder, Domina. Or I will take more of an interest."

"I will, Mother. I promise!" I jump up to walk her to the door. She's got her power suit on, her briefcase with her. She's going to work. That thought alone is enough to provoke an attack but I clamp down on it as I hold the door for her and wish her a good day. It's only when I'm sure she's well on her way down the street and the locks are all set once more that I allow myself the release of shrieking into a couch pillow. The last time Mother took an interest in fixing me, she'd nearly killed me.