The full moon hung like a luminous pearl against the velvet sky, casting everything below in ethereal silver. The city streets, usually pulsing with life and chaos, lay eerily silent—as if the world itself held its breath. No cars rumbled past the dimly lit buildings.
No late-night wanderers shuffled along the sidewalks. Only the rhythmic creak of worn bicycle gears and the labored breathing of a sixteen-year-old girl disturbed the ghostly quiet.
Juliette's legs burned as she pedaled harder, her old bike groaning in protest with each revolution. The chain caught and slipped, a metallic hiccup that made her wince. She'd been meaning to fix it for months, but there was never time—or money. There was never enough of anything.
Antonio's Pizza glowed like a beacon ahead, its neon sign flickering intermittently, casting red and yellow shadows that danced across the cracked pavement. Through the grease-stained windows, she could see the warm amber light spilling onto empty tables and chairs. A family business, the kind that somehow survived in neighborhoods where everything else withered away.
The bell above the door chimed as she pushed inside, immediately enveloped by the rich aroma of tomato sauce, melted cheese, and oregano. Behind the counter stood a man whose kind eyes couldn't quite hide the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. His beard was peppered with gray, his apron decorated with flour handprints and sauce stains—badges of honest work. The name tag read "Antonio" in faded letters.
"What can I get you, sweetheart?" His voice carried the warmth of someone who genuinely cared about feeding people, not just making money.
Juliette's cheeks flushed as she approached the counter. "A Large pepperoni pizza for..." The words stuck in her throat like thick honey. She cleared it, trying again. "For... his almond joy."
The transformation in his expression was immediate. Antonio's weathered face lit up like sunrise, years seeming to melt away in an instant. "Margaret! How is she? It's been too long since I've seen that beautiful woman."
The lie came easier than the truth. "She's good." Juliette couldn't bring herself to mention Gabe, she couldn't bear to taint this moment of genuine warmth with that man's presence.
"Ah, the good old days," Antonio mused, his hands already moving with practiced efficiency as he spoke. "She used to come in here every Friday night, you know. Always ordered extra cheese, always had the most beautiful frown. Tell her this one's on the house—and that Antonio still makes the best pizza in the city!"
Within minutes, he emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming box, the cheese still bubbling through the cardboard vents. "You ride safe now, okay? And give Margaret my love."
Juliette nodded, clutching the warm box against her chest like a shield. As she turned to leave, something caught her eye near the drink station—a family of cockroaches had made themselves at home, scurrying boldly across the counter. Ignoring the insect's home in the restaurant, Juliette exited the building like normal and hopped back onto her rustic bike.
The night air had grown cooler, carrying the promise of autumn on its breath. Juliette balanced the pizza box carefully in her bike's wire basket, the savory aroma of garlic and melted cheese wafting up to tease her empty stomach. When was the last time she'd eaten? This morning or Yesterday? The days blurred together in a haze of survival.
As she pedaled through the moonlit streets, her mind wandered to what awaited her at home. Margaret's shrill voice would cut through the air like broken glass—complaints about the toppings, about how long it took, accusations that Juliette had stolen slices along the way.
And Gabe... God, Gabe would be there too, with that oil-slick smile and those eyes that crawled over her like insects. The memory of his last "joke," his hand lingering too long on her shoulder, sent ice through her veins.
She pedaled faster, her breath forming small silver clouds in the cool air. But despite the dread coiling in her chest like a serpent, she found herself oddly calm beneath the vast canopy of stars.
The moonlight transformed everything—the crumbling sidewalks became silver rivers, the worn rooftops gleamed like pewter, and even the gnarled trees leaning over the left side of the road looked magical, their branches reaching toward heaven like desperate prayers.
There was something sacred about this moment, this pocket of peace stolen from a life that offered so little of it.
Her thoughts drifted to Seraphina—her creation, and her secret yet better self.
In her mind, she could see her clearly: golden hair catching sunlight, armor gleaming, sword raised against injustice. Seraphina would never cower. She would never let anyone hurt her. She would stand in that house and make Margaret and Gabe bow their heads in shame.
"If only I was like you," Juliette whispered to the night wind. "If only."
The fantasy felt so real she could almost taste it—owning her parents' house again, having friends who actually cared, walking through school hallways without fear. If only—
A rustling sound shattered her reverie.
Juliette squeezed the brakes, her bike coming to a gentle stop. The night seemed to hold its breath again, waiting. It was nearly ten o'clock—no one should be out here in this forgotten corner of the city. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs as she considered the prospect of a burglar or even killer roaming about near her.
Then she saw the shadow of a four-legged animal.
To her left, just beyond a tangle of roadside brush, something moved with painful, halting steps. A deer—small and delicate, with liquid dark eyes that caught the moonlight. But something was terribly wrong.
One of its legs dragged uselessly behind it, leaving a glistening trail of crimson on the pale grass. Blood matted its flank, dark and wet against the brown fur.
When their eyes met, Juliette saw something that pierced her soul—raw terror, desperate pain, and beneath it all, a plea for mercy that transcended species.
Without thinking, she climbed off her bike and gently placed the pizza box on the seat. Her hands trembled as she raised them, palms open in surrender.
"Hey there," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay. I won't hurt you. I promise."
The deer flinched but didn't run. It Couldn't run, Juliette realized as she drew closer. She could see the wound now—a small, precise hole near its ribs. It was A bullet wound. Clean and cruel.
Her chest tightened with familiar rage. Hunting was illegal in the city, punishable by years in prison. But rules meant nothing when you thought no one was watching. People always took what they wanted, destroyed what they pleased, and left others to bleed.
"You're just like me, aren't you?" she breathed, reaching out slowly. "Someone hurt you just because they could."
Another rustle came from the trees. Then a distant, metallic click that made her blood freeze.
'BOOM!'
The gunshot exploded through the night like thunder, shattering the silver peace into a thousand glittering pieces. The deer jerked backward, wild with terror. Juliette spun toward the sound, her heart slamming against her ribs.
"Wait—stop!" she screamed into the darkness. "Don't shoot! There's someone here—!"
'BOOM!'
The second shot came like judgment day.
Time fractured, each second stretching into eternity. Juliette felt the bullet tear through her shoulder with white-hot agony, spinning her like a broken doll before her knees hit the cold asphalt. The deer vanished into the woods, leaving only rustling leaves and the echo of hoof-beats.
Warmth spread across her chest—wet, sticky, and gory. She looked down at her trembling hand and saw it painted in crimson. So much crimson. The strange metallic taste filled her mouth, and she realized with strange detachment that she was drowning in her own blood.
The pizza box had tumbled open beside her, cheese and grease mixing grotesquely with the spreading pool beneath her body. What a waste, she thought, and almost laughed at the absurdity. Here she was, dying, and she was worried about wasted pizza.
The hunter—whoever they were—had melted back into the darkness like a coward. No footsteps approached her, and No voice called out in panic or remorse. There was just silence, and the gradually slowing rhythm of her heart.
She rolled onto her back, blinking up at the star-scattered sky. The moon gazed down at her with serene indifference, beautiful and eternal and utterly unmoved by human suffering. Her parents used to tell her that the moon carried the souls of the departed, that death was just another kind of traveling.
'Can you see me now?' she wondered, though no words came—only blood, warm and thick.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, born of pain and fear and something else entirely. It was Peace.
There was no shouting, no demands to be fulfilled, No more fighting to exist in a world that had never wanted her. The thought should have been terrifying, but instead, it felt like coming home.
'Shot while trying to save an injured deer,' she thought with grim, self-depreiciating humor. 'What a perfectly shitty way to die.'
As her eyelids grew heavy, she felt something impossible—warmth. Not the fading warmth of her own blood, but something else entirely. The Moonlight or Her parents' embrace? She couldn't tell anymore.
Then, just as consciousness began to slip away like water through her fingers, something erupted inside her chest. Not pain—she was beyond pain now—but fury. Pure, molten rage that had been buried for years under layers of fear and resignation.
Her hands clenched into fists. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with defiance.
'This isn't fair!' The thought roared through her mind like wildfire. 'I deserved better! I deserved to live, to love, to be happy! I deserved the life my parents wanted for me!'
For one blazing moment, she was Seraphina—fierce, unbroken, righteous in her anger. The fury burned through her like cleansing fire, and she understood that this, this was what it meant to truly live.
Neither cowering nor suffering, but to stand up for oneself and be free!
But even fury couldn't hold back the tide forever. As her life force ebbed away, the anger softened into something gentler. It was an acceptance, a release. The rage had served its purpose—it had reminded her that she was worth more than the world had given her.
In the distance, sirens wailed like mourning voices, growing closer. Someone had heard. Someone cared enough to call for help, even if it was too late. The thought brought her comfort. At least she wouldn't lie here undiscovered, forgotten like roadkill.
'Mom, Dad,' she thought as the darkness closed in, 'I'm coming home.'
Slowly, her consciousness...or her spirit lifted, separating from her broken body like smoke rising from dying embers. She felt herself soaring upward, beyond the city lights, beyond the clouds, weightless and free. The sensation was indescribable—pure joy, pure liberation.
But just before she let go completely, one final thought; a farewell tethered her to the world she was leaving behind.
'Oh yeah...Goodbye, Seraphina.'
And then there was only a pure light.