SERAPHINA
"Oh my god, Yuki! Get out of here! Shoo! Shoo! Go home!"
I shouted, hurrying toward Yuki, our familiar fluffy dog, who was tangled with a stray in the middle of the road. Disgust twisted my face as I raised my umbrella, using it to carefully separate the pair before things went too far.
I pointed at Yuki—our long-haired mutt Dad had begged his boss for years ago. "You horny little thing! We don't have money to feed a litter of puppies if you get knocked up!" I snapped, my voice laced with exasperation.
Yuki whined, clearly disappointed her fun had been interrupted. I made a show of swinging my hand at the male dog, and he bolted.
I glared at her. "And you! You planning to stay out here all night?!" She flinched, tucking her tail between her legs, and darted toward our rickety wooden house.
I followed her inside, where I found Dad hunched over his phone—definitely gambling online again. I cleared my throat loudly, and he whipped around, his face paling.
"S-Sera!" He hastily stuffed the phone behind his back. "Been home long?"
I shook my head. "Just got here, Dad."
If only I could tell Mom about this. He looked hooked on the damn thing, and it scared me. But he just raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.
"Hmm. Well, get inside then. What are you staring at? The dishes are piled up in the kitchen—wash them before you cook dinner."
I forced a smile, masking my frustration. "Yes, Dad. I'll take care of it."
He went right back to his screen, his thumbs already tapping away. Not a word about my day, if I was tired, or what I might want to eat. No surprise there.
I didn't waste time heading to the kitchen. Even from the doorway, I could see the towering pile of crusty plates and pots—they'd clearly waited for me to get home before lifting a finger. I was drained from classes, and this was my welcome. I'd grown used to being treated like an outsider, but the familiar sting was still sharp.
As I scrubbed away at the grime, Mom walked past. Her face soured the moment she saw me.
"Really, Sera? What kind of young woman comes home this late? Good grief—you're always nothing but trouble!"
It's barely five o'clock. I bit back the retort. Arguing never helped; she'd just yell louder.
"I'm sorry, Mom. Classes ran long."
"Tsk! Hurry up! Hera will be home soon, and you haven't even started cooking yet." She stomped off, heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards.
I sighed, the sound lost in the clatter of dishes, and kept washing. Hera was two years younger, but we were graduating college together—I'd had to take two years off when Mom made me quit to work. I'd had no choice but to agree, sacrificing my own ambitions for the sake of the family's needs.
My stomach rumbled as I finished up—I'd skipped lunch to save my allowance. I got to work right away, boiling rice and frying up canned corned beef from the town's relief supplies. The metallic tang of the meat filled the small kitchen.
"Mom, dinner's ready. You should eat first," I called out before heading to my room—the walls were cracked, the peeling paint revealing the cheap wood underneath, and the roof had a hole big enough to stick my head through. Rainwater stained the floorboards, a constant reminder of our poverty.
I changed clothes but stayed put, waiting for them to finish eating. I knew they'd never want me at the table with them—it was always this way, a silent agreement to keep me separate.
I still didn't understand why they hated me so much. Even as a kid, they'd treated me like this. I'd asked if I was adopted, desperate for any explanation, but they swore we were blood—said a DNA test would prove it.
I let out a long breath and looked up at the sky through the hole in my roof. "Really, Lord? You love giving me challenges, don't you?"
When I heard their dishes being cleared, I finally stepped out. I was starving, my stomach twisting with hunger.
"Mom, did you save me any food?" I asked quietly, trying to keep the plea out of my voice.
"There was some left, but we kept it for Hera. We forgot about you." She laughed, the sound hollow and devoid of any warmth.
I dropped my gaze, focusing on the worn floorboards. Of course it's for Hera.
"Okay, Mom. I'll just go to sleep then."
She raised an eyebrow, her expression challenging. "Fine, sleep. Why the long face? Are you mad you didn't get any food?!"
I jumped at her sudden shout, flinching at the harshness in her tone, and shook my head. "No, Mom!"
"Don't give me that look, Sera. Get a job if you want to eat! Dammit, you're always bothering me."
I turned away, jaw tight, just as Hera walked in from school. "Hey, everyone!"
Mom and Dad rushed to greet her. "Our beautiful girl! Even tired from class, you're still stunning!" They kissed her cheeks, their voices softening as they cooed over her.
"Go eat, Hera—we saved your favorite for you," Mom said, guiding her toward the kitchen.
I bit my lip, the familiar sting of exclusion pricking at my eyes, and headed back to my room, staring at the faded floral wallpaper as my mind raced.
That's all I've ever wanted—for them to treat me like their princess too. We were both their daughters, so why was I so different? Why did they withhold every ounce of affection from me?
The pain was sharp, a dull ache in my chest, but I didn't cry—I was used to it by now, the numbness a familiar shield. Even so, a part of me still ached for the warmth and love they showered on Hera, a longing that never seemed to fade.
I slapped my cheeks hard, then pinched them, trying to ground myself. "Come on, Sera. You're tough—this won't break you. The Lord must have big plans for you!" I forced a laugh, the sound hollow as I whispered the words to myself, seeking comfort in the familiar mantra.
Sleep was better than dwelling on things, a temporary escape from the constant ache. I had an event at school early tomorrow, and I needed to be up before dawn, a daunting prospect given my empty stomach and heavy heart.
"Mom, I'm heading to school!" I called out, raising my voice to be heard over the silence of the quiet house. She could be anywhere—her room, some corner of the yard—so shouting was safer, a way to ensure my voice reached her.
I waited a few seconds, the silence stretching, but no answer came. I scratched my head, a flicker of panic igniting within me—I was already running late, and the clock was ticking against me. I needed to ask her for a hundred pesos to cover an unexpected fee, a sum my meager savings couldn't cover.
"Mom?" I called again, my voice tinged with urgency.
I was about to give up and leave, resigning myself to facing the day without her support, when I heard footsteps approaching. Mom rounded the corner, phone clutched in her hand, a strange, unsettling smile playing on her lips.
She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing when she saw my backpack, her gaze lingering with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Mom, I have to go—"
"You're not going anywhere," she said firmly, her voice laced with an unfamiliar edge. My brow furrowed in confusion, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words.
"What do you mean I'm not—"
"Quit school, Sera." She stared at me with a cold glint in her eye, her expression unreadable, then smirked, as if sharing a secret I wasn't privy to. "There's a better life waiting for you."
My chest tightened with unease, a sense of foreboding washing over me. I forced a laugh, hoping to diffuse the tension, hoping it was all just a misunderstanding. "Mom, come on—it's too early for jokes—"
She cut me off, grabbing my arm with a force that made me wince. I'd never seen her like this, her eyes burning with a strange, unsettling intensity.
"I said you're not going. Do you understand me?!"
I gasped, a sharp intake of breath, then found the strength to pull my arm away, recoiling from her touch.
"I'm going to school," I repeated, my voice trembling but firm, and ran for the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the house.
"Sera! Get back here, you little brat! I'm talking to you! Sera!" I blocked out her shouts, the harsh words stinging my ears, sprinting down the dirt path away from our house, seeking refuge in the anonymity of the outside world.
What is wrong with her? She'd seemed almost happy just a minute ago—why was she taking it out on me again, unleashing her anger on me as if I were the source of all her problems?
I shook my head as I walked, knowing I'd never make the event on time now, the weight of disappointment settling heavily on my shoulders. I'd had to walk since I couldn't afford fare, and the school was just ahead, a bittersweet reminder of the life I was fighting to build.
Great, Seraphina. Real smart. I messed up my hair in frustration, the gesture a futile attempt to release the pent-up tension. "Why do you always land yourself in this mess?!"
I muttered to myself as I trudged onward, just a few steps from the school's back gate, the familiar surroundings offering a small measure of comfort. I could already picture my teacher scolding me and my friends teasing me—but none of that mattered when I saw the black van pull up beside an old woman, a scene that shattered the normalcy of the morning.
Then I saw the glint of a knife, a flash of metal that sent a jolt of terror through my veins.
My eyes went wide as they shoved her into the van, the brutality of the act unfolding before me. Kidnapping? Oh my god!
I acted without thinking, driven by instinct and a fierce sense of injustice, charging toward them as I screamed, my voice raw with adrenaline. "Stop! You can't do this! Let her go!"
They turned to look at me—masked men, all of them, their faces hidden behind a wall of anonymity. I hurled my heavy backpack full of books at one of them, the books scattering across the ground, then rushed to the old woman, who was slumped against the van, bleeding, her eyes wide with fear.
"Oh my god! Are you okay? Breathe slowly!" I pulled out my handkerchief, my hands trembling, and pressed it to her wound, holding tight to stem the bleeding, desperate to offer some measure of comfort.
"Who the hell are you?!" one of the men snarled, his voice muffled by the mask.
"Help! Someone help us! They're trying to kill her!" I yelled at passing cars, my voice cracking with fear, hoping someone would hear my desperate plea and come to our rescue.
The men panicked, their carefully laid plans unraveling, clearly not wanting attention. They started climbing into the van, preparing to flee, but my eyes were locked on the man sitting in the passenger seat—he was staring right at me, his gaze intense and unnerving. We held each other's gaze for a second too long, a silent acknowledgment of the danger I had placed myself in, and then something sprayed into my face, a cloud of burning mist that enveloped my senses.
"AHHH! My eyes!" I screamed as searing pain shot through them, an unbearable agony that threatened to consume me. I couldn't open them, couldn't see a thing—whatever they'd used burned like fire, a searing inferno that consumed my vision.
"Argh..." I groaned, but forced myself to keep holding the old woman close, clinging to her as if she were the only anchor in a world that had suddenly turned dark and hostile. Tears streamed down my face from the pain, my eyes squeezed shut, but I refused to relinquish my grip.
"Hold on, ma'am," I whispered, my voice hoarse with pain and fear.
But the pain was too much, an overwhelming force that threatened to break me. The world went black, the darkness complete, before I could feel if she was still breathing, leaving me adrift in a sea of pain and uncertainty.