Tristan had always wondered why his mother never left the house. Slender fingers took care of him but never held his hand beyond the bones of their home.

At the age of seven Tristan's father explained to him that his mother suffered from agoraphobia.

"It's when someone is scared to leave their house."

"But why?"

"I'll explain more to you someday, ok sport?"

The blonde haired boy could only nod in response, sensing the defeat in his father's voice.

A routine of education and home compromised the child's life. His mother would pack his food and his father would drive him to school before making his way to work.

It was the same thing on the weekdays. Tristan would kiss his mom goodbye before situating himself in the car first as he waited for his dad to emerge from the front door. Some days it would be quick and some days it felt endless, the turning of the knob the ever constant image.

Nearby friends would've been nice if not for the location of their residence. Instead of a view of other houses and neighbors, trees and animals kept the child company.

Change soon came when his mother became bed ridden, leaving his father to take up the responsibility of preparing his nourishment as well. As the kitchen was busy being used, Tristan's father instructed him to bid farewell to his mother which the boy dutifully followed.

A warm and soft hug soon engulfed his lithe body before his mother gave him a piece of paper and told him to give it to his teacher as soon as he arrived to school.

Tristan recognized the torn sheet as one from his notebook but failed to name the red ink. Puzzlement occupied his mind but his tongue made no move to question it.

"It's just a letter thanking her for teaching you so much. Don't tell your dad ok? It's our little secret"

The woman uttered in a whisper with a wink, a smile threatening to falter as her voice cracked with each word.

Like the good boy that he was, Tristan folded the paper into the size that would fit his pocket before kissing and hugging his mother farewell.

A promise so sacred laced his tongue as he was bound to his destination. Tiny feet trotted the halls before his fingers reached and grabbed the paper that was being awaited by his teacher's palm.

The older woman's hazel eyes scanned the letter before darting to Tristan's. The boy sensed fear in them as his stomach felt uneasy.

A thank you left the woman's mouth along with a reassuring smile. The next thing Tristan knew, their teacher was out the door before another teacher watched over them.

Insistent heels battered the floor as the woman rushed to the principal's office and without the basic greetings of respect, the letter was read by another set of eyes.

"?????? ???? ??????? ???? ???.

??? ???? ?? ????.

??'? ??????? ??? ??? ?? ????."