Chapter 3 - Where are you?

Seraphina

The door creaked as Sera stepped into the darkened apartment. The familiar stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes clung to the air like a suffocating blanket. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack as she cautiously moved through the mess. Broken glass glittered faintly under the dim kitchen light, and her father’s shadow loomed over the worn armchair in the corner.

He was awake.

“Where the hell have you been?” his voice rasped, sharp as broken glass.

Sera swallowed hard. “At work. I told you I had an important job tonight.”

“Work,” he sneered, pushing himself to his feet. The bottle in his hand sloshed with amber liquid. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, locked onto her like a predator. “Don’t lie to me, girl. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? Who you’ve been with?”

She took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. “I’m not lying. I’m trying to build something for myself—for us. So we don’t have to live like this anymore.”

“For us?” He laughed bitterly. “You think you’re better than me because you’ve got your fancy school and your big dreams? You’re nothing, Seraphina. Nothing without me.”

She flinched as he spat her name, her nails digging into her palm. “Why are you like this? You weren’t always like this…”

His face twisted with rage, and in one violent motion, he lunged for her backpack. She stumbled back, but he was faster, wrenching it from her hands. The laptop inside clattered to the floor. Before she could reach for it, his boot came down on the screen with a sickening crunch.

“No!” Sera cried out, dropping to her knees as the shattered remnants of her hard work lay scattered across the floor.

“You waste your time on this junk!” he bellowed, his voice shaking the walls. “All these years, you’ve been nothing but a burden. Just like her.”

Her head snapped up. “What did you say?”

His lips curled into a cruel smile, teeth yellowed from years of neglect. “You heard me. You’re not even mine, girl. You were never mine. Your precious mother brought you here from God knows where, thinking she could fix her empty life with a broken child.”

Sera froze. The world tilted beneath her feet, and her father’s words echoed in her ears.

"You’re not even mine."

No. It couldn’t be true. She had spent her whole life under his roof, trying to earn his approval, enduring his wrath, all while believing—hoping—that somewhere deep down, he cared for her in some twisted way.

“Why…” Her voice broke. “Why would you tell me this?”

“Because you’re nothing, Seraphina!” he roared, his face inches from hers. “You were never supposed to be here! Your mother ruined me, and then she left me with you! You are nothing more than a useless slut, just like your mother!”

Something inside Sera shattered. The fragile hope she had clung to for so long turned to ash in her chest.

Before she could react, his hand came down again, sharp and brutal. She hit the floor hard, her head striking the corner of the coffee table. Stars exploded behind her eyes, and the metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth.

Pain roared through her skull as her father loomed over her. She tried to scramble backward, but her body refused to obey. His shadow covered her completely, and for a moment, all she could feel was fear—deep, primal, suffocating fear.

“Stop,” she whimpered, her voice small and broken. “Please… stop…”

But he didn’t stop.

The one who she called her father for all these years, the one who once was nice and kind with her, when she was a kid, now was just a dark, cold shadow over her. Before she could react, her hoodie was ripped, and her father's cold hands squeezed her breasts painfully, rough and hard, leaving bruises all around.

“Please, don’t…”

“Father…please…” -  she tried to escape, but it was useless. Even drunk, the one she called father all these years remained stronger than her, so that any attempt to get out from under his blows and painful squeeze was in vain.

When Sera woke, the apartment was silent. Her body ached, every breath sharp and painful. She lay curled on the cold floor, naked and covered with bruises, her cheek pressed against the cracked tile. The faint morning light crept through the curtains, painting pale stripes across the wreckage of her home.

He was gone.

Her father’s old leather jacket was missing from its usual hook by the door, and the faint sound of an engine starting outside confirmed that he had left.

Sera’s body trembled as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, biting back a sob as every muscle screamed in protest. Her hoodie was ripped, and blood smeared her lip.

Her gaze landed on the broken laptop on the floor—the lifeline to her future, now shattered beyond repair.

"No. Please, no."

Her shaking hands reached for the bookshelf beside the window. Hidden between the pages of an old textbook was a slim USB stick—the backup she had made of her program. With trembling fingers, she pulled it free and clutched it to her chest.

Her breath hitched as tears slipped down her bruised face. Her vision blurred, but her mind was clear.

She couldn’t stay here. If he came back… if he found her again…

Fumbling, she grabbed her backpack, stuffed the USB stick and a few essentials inside, and staggered toward the door. Each step felt like agony, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Outside, the early morning air was sharp against her skin. Her phone was cracked, but still working. Her thumb hovered over one name in her contact list.

Damon Hale.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pressed the call button and lifted the phone to her ear.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then his voice came through—low, steady, and sharp as a blade. “Sera?”

She choked on a sob. “Damon… I need your help.”

“Where are you?”

His voice held no hesitation, no doubt—just quiet steel.

She gave him her location, and before she could say anything else, he cut the call.

For a moment, Sera stood there, clutching her backpack to her chest, her entire body trembling from fear, exhaustion, and pain.

Then headlights appeared at the end of the street.

A sleek, black car pulled up, and the door opened. Damon stepped out, his tall silhouette outlined by the early dawn light. His gaze swept over her, and his face went still—his sharp eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and his knuckles turned white as his fists tightened at his sides.

“Sera…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She took a shaky step toward him, her lip trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around her bruised body. Before she could take another step, she felt warm and soft hands catching her, and she fell into the darkness.