CHAPTER ONE: THE HOUSE THAT NEVER SLEPT
The rain thundered heavily on the Voss house.
The first thing Elara learnt about pain was that it had a sound.
Not the sharp c***k of a slap. Not the heavy thud of a door slamming shut.
Pain sounded like footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Certain.
The old wooden boards outside her bedroom creaked once, then again, and Elara's entire body went rigid beneath the thin blanket. The clock on the wall read 2:13 am.
The house was dark except for the pale
moonlight leaking through the cracked curtains, painting silver lines across the floor.
She held her breath.
Another step.
Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might give her away.
"Please..." she whispered, though she wasn't sure who she was speaking to anymore.
The footsteps paused outside her door.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut.
For one impossible second, she imagined the door would remain closed. That whoever stood outside the door would turn around and leave her alone.
The handle twisted.
She didn't look up. Looking only made it worse.
A shadow crossed the room, tall and familiar, carrying the smell of alcohol and rain. Her father never came home quietly. Even silence became a threat when he entered it.
"You're awake", he muttered.
It wasn't a question.
Elara kept her gaze fixed on the blanket. "I'm sorry".
The words came automatically, like breathing.
A rough hand seized her wrist and yanked her upright. Pain shot through her arm.
"Sorry for what?"
She swallowed hard. There were too many possible answers.
"For... for everything".
His grip tightened.
Moonlight caught the bruise already fading along her arm, yesterday's mark layered over last week's own.
"Maybe if you weren't such a burden", he said, voice low and dangerous, "this house would know peace".
The words hurt more than the bruises. They always did.
Elara stared at the floor boards, counting the cracks in the wood the way other girls counted stars. If she focused hard enough, she could almost leave her body behind.
Almost.
A sharp sting burned across her cheek.
Her head snapped to the side.
She tasted blood.
No tears, she begged her self. No tears.
Crying only fed the storm.
From somewhere down the hallway, another voice- her mother's, cold and exhausted.
"Don't make a scene"
Elara's chest tightened.
Not *Are you okay*
Not *Stop hurting her*
Just that.
Don't make a scene.
Her father released her with a shove, and she fell back into the mattress.
The springs groaned beneath her weight.
"You'll clean the kitchen before school," he said.
"And if I find one thing out of place-"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
The door slammed behind him.
Silence rushed in, thick and suffocating.
Elara remained frozen for several seconds, listening to the retreating footsteps, to the murmur of her parents voices downstairs, to the wind scratching against the windows and rain tapping against the glass like impatient fingers.
Only when the house settles again did she allow herself to breathe.
A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.
She pressed both hands over her mouth to keep her sobs trapped inside.
The room left too small, the air too thin. Her chest ached with the effort of staying quiet.
This was her life.
Eighteen years of apologies for crimes she never understood.
Eighteen years of learning how to disappear while still standing in plain sight.
Eventually, the tears slowed.
Elara wiped her face with the sleeve of her oversized sweater and forced herself out of bed. The floor was cold beneath her feet.
She crossed to the small mirror hanging beside the window.
The girl staring back at her looked like a ghost.
Dark hair tangled around her pale face. A split lip. Finger shaped bruises blooming along her wrist.
"Who are you?" she whispered to her reflection.
The mirror offered no answer.
A sudden chill swept through the room.
Elara frowned.
The windows were closed, yet the curtains moved.
Not with the wind.
With something else.
Her breath caught.
In the reflection behind her, the darkness near the corner of the room seemed thicker than the rest, as if the shadows had gathered together into a single shape.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
Elara spun around.
Nothing.
The corner was empty.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
"You're imagining things", she whispered, though the words sounded fragile.
She turned back to the mirror
The shadow was there again.
Closer this time.
Two faint points of light glimmered within the darkness- not bright enough to be eyes, not dim enough to be mistaken for moonlight.
Blue .
Elara's breath stopped.
The figure did not move.
Neither did she.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other through the mirror.
Then, softly, almost tenderly, a voice brushed against her mind.
"You're not alone".
The lights vanished.
The shadow dissolved.
And Elara stood trembling in the center of the room, unsure whether she had just lost her mind, or whether something had finally found her.
