Seraphina's Point Of View
I dragged myself away from the door like it might suddenly accuse me of something else if I stayed too close. The house felt too quiet now. Too aware. Like the walls had ears and were filing reports.
I wandered into the living room, barefoot, the cold tile shocking my senses just enough to keep me grounded. My reflection caught in the dark TV screen… oversized shirt swallowing my frame, shorts hanging low on my hips, hair a mess, eyes still swollen and slightly haunted.
I stared at myself.
Then I groaned.
"Great," I muttered. "Just great."
I flopped dramatically onto the couch, arms spread wide like I'd been defeated by life itself, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me, completely unbothered by my existential crisis.
"Well," I said aloud to no one, "my chances of going to heaven just officially got ruined."
I paused.
"All because of those idiots."
The words left my mouth sharp, bitter, satisfying for exactly half a second.
Then, like the ultimate betrayal, a small, very calm, very smug voice spoke up inside my head.
Don't blame them alone.
I stiffened.
"Oh, don't start," I warned the ceiling.
You threw yourself at them, the voice continued, unapologetic. You literally said, 'I'm not going to die a virgin.'
My jaw clenched.
You went to them, it added pointedly. Not the other way around.
I shot upright on the couch.
"Nope. No. Absolutely not," I said, shaking my head hard. "We are not doing this."
You made the decision, the voice pressed. They didn't drag you.
I groaned, dropping my head into my hands.
"Shut up!" I yelled.
The sound echoed slightly in the empty room.
"I know, alright? I know!"
I paced now, back and forth across the living room, hands waving as if I was physically arguing with someone standing in front of me.
"But," I said, pointing accusingly at absolutely nothing, "they could have refused."
They didn't have to, the voice replied smoothly.
"They should have," I snapped. "Decent people refuse."
Decent people don't usually get approached like that.
I stopped mid-step.
"…Okay, wow," I muttered. "Rude."
I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.
"They caused it," I insisted stubbornly. "They tempted me."
With what?
"With their stupid faces," I said immediately. "And their horrible muscles."
Horrible?
"Yes," I nodded firmly. "Tragic. Offensive. A crime against emotionally vulnerable women."
The voice hummed, unimpressed.
If we had died a virgin, it said calmly, heaven would have been a sure ticket.
I snorted.
"Oh please," I scoffed, rolling my eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Now we're negotiating entry requirements?"
Just stating facts.
"Those are not facts," I argued. "Those are assumptions."
I collapsed back onto the couch again, throwing an arm over my eyes.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered. "I sound insane."
You are debating theology with yourself.
"Exactly."
I peeked out from under my arm, staring at the ceiling again, my chest rising and falling more evenly now as the initial panic faded into something quieter. Heavier.
Something real.
I swallowed.
"Whether it's a month," I said softly, voice losing its bite, "or a year."
The room felt different when I said it out loud. The words carried weight. Finality.
"I'm going to die anyway," I continued, the truth sitting heavy in my chest.
Silence answered me this time. Even the voice seemed to hesitate.
"So why not live?" I whispered. "Why not actually live and not spend my last days being afraid of things I could have done but didn't?"
I sat up slowly, hugging a cushion to my chest.
"I don't want regrets," I admitted. "I don't want to lie there one day thinking about all the things I was too scared to feel."
My throat tightened.
"I wanted to feel something," I said quietly. "That shouldn't be a sin."
I exhaled deeply, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little.
"And if God is really as kind as everyone says," I added, nodding to myself, "then He'll get it."
I lay back again, staring up, oddly calmer now.
"God will definitely understand."
**********
I woke up before the sun. Not because of an alarm. Not because I was rested. But because my face felt wrong.
Heavy. Tight. Wet.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, not moving, not blinking, just… existing. The gray light of early morning crept through the thin slit in the curtains, painting everything in dull shadows. My chest rose and fell slowly, mechanically, like my body hadn't gotten the memo that my heart was tired.
Then I shifted.
And my cheek brushed against the pillow.
Soaked.
I frowned slightly, lifting my head just enough to see the dark patch beneath me. The pillowcase was damp, cold in that uncomfortable way that made reality sink in.
"Oh," I whispered.
So that's what did it.
I didn't react right away.
I just sat there.
Still.
Blank.
No thoughts. No memories. No anger. No sadness. Just… nothing. Like someone had pulled the plug on my brain and left me staring into static.
The room felt unfamiliar in that early light, like I was sleeping in someone else's life. The walls were too quiet. Too clean. Everything exactly where it should be… except me.
A minute passed.
Maybe more.
Eventually, my body decided to move even if my mind refused to. I swung my legs off the bed and stood, the cool floor biting into the soles of my feet. I walked to the bathroom slowly, dragging myself along like I was underwater.
The mirror greeted me immediately.
I barely recognized the girl staring back.
My eyes were swollen, red, puffy… like I'd been punched repeatedly by life itself. My lashes clumped together, dark crescents under my eyes making me look exhausted in a way sleep could never fix.
I sighed.
A long, tired sound.
"Stop it, Seraphina," I muttered to my reflection.
The girl in the mirror didn't listen.
"He's not worth your tears," I continued, pointing weakly at myself. "Neither is she." My voice cracked slightly on the words, and I hated that.
"They're both selfish bastards," I said, harsher now. "Only care about what they want. What they feel. What they can take."
I shook my head.
"Don't think about them anymore." I said it like an order. Like my heart would obey if I sounded firm enough. But it didn't. The first tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
Then another.
Then another.
My breath hitched, sharp and sudden, like my body had been waiting for permission.
"No," I whispered, gripping the edge of the sink. "No, no…"
Too late.
My knees buckled.
I slid down against the cabinet, the cold bathroom tiles seeping into my skin as I collapsed onto the floor. My back hit the vanity, and I curled in on myself, arms wrapping around my stomach like I could hold my insides together.
The sob that tore out of me was ugly.
Raw.
It came from somewhere deep… some place words never reached.
I cried the way you cry when your chest physically hurts. When every breath feels like glass. When your heart feels too big for your ribs and too broken to keep beating properly. I pressed my forehead to the floor, tears splattering onto the tiles.
"Just for now," I whispered between sobs. "Just for now, I'll cry."
My shoulders shook violently.
"I'll let it out," I begged no one. "Just this once."
Minutes passed.
Maybe more.
Time blurred into the sound of my breathing and the ache in my throat. My face felt swollen, my head pounding, my chest tight and hollow all at once.
Eventually, the tears slowed.
My sobs softened into sniffles.
I sat there for a while longer, exhausted, drained, empty.
Then I pushed myself up slowly, using the sink for support. I splashed water on my face, wiping away the evidence with shaking hands.
I stared at myself again.
Red eyes.
Blotchy skin.
A mess.
I sniffed once, then snorted despite myself.
"Well," I muttered weakly, forcing a crooked smile, "at least look at the bright side." The girl in the mirror raised an eyebrow like she didn't trust me.
I shrugged.
"You slept with three hot dudes," I said, wiping under my eyes. "Even if they're incredibly stupid."
The smile didn't quite reach my eyes.
But for a second… Just a second, the pain loosened its grip.