Chapter 1
1651 Words
SERAPHINA
“You are fired.”
Even though I had been expecting it, the words still sank straight into my stomach. They still made me wince like I’d been slapped.
“What?” My voice trembled, same as my whole body. What were the f*****g odds that this was my fifth job this month?
“Are you deaf, girl? I said you are fired. All you do is scare customers away with your tattoos. You look like a walking encyclopedia for all the wrong reasons.” Mr. Rodrich spat—literally spat—as he tossed my bag and jacket at my feet like trash.
My eyes burned, my throat tightening around a hard swallow. I refused to cry. God knows I stopped crying years ago. My body was so used to being battered and dragged through life that something inside me simply… shut down. I still felt pain, of course I did, it just never came out as tears. It started as an eye twitch, then a violent throb in my temples, then it spread through my chest and down my limbs. Crippling.
“Move from the road, you f*****g wanker!” a driver yelled, barely missing me and splashing dirt across my already-ruined uniform.
I blew a raspberry breath at the sky, a big, dramatic f**k you to the universe. Twenty-seven years on this planet and not a single break. f**k you very much indeed.
I grabbed my things and walked away from the café, keeping my eyes down so I wouldn’t have to hear the whispers or see the judgement.
When I reached my apartment, a letter was stapled to my door. I didn’t bother reading it. I crushed it into a fist and tossed it straight into the bin before unlocking my shoebox home.
My cat perked up immediately, purring as she approached me. I bent to stroke her soft fur.
“We’re jobless again, Ann.”
She whined.
“I know. Which means we’ll probably starve for a bit. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t accept the apology—of course she didn’t. She bounced away from me and into her little house. The familiar ache spread through my chest again. I pressed my fingers there, rubbing gently as if I could soothe the pain back into silence.
I tossed my things aside and grabbed my phone, scrolling through my emails in desperate hope that one, just one, of the fifteen jobs I applied to this week had replied.
Nothing.
I groaned, pressed my palm over my eyes and muttered, “f**k. How is this my f*****g life?”
But it was. And I was tired.
I grabbed my cigarettes and lighter, stepped out onto the balcony, and lit one. The first drag hit sweet and sharp—momentary comfort, but still something.
Of course, that was the exact moment the universe decided to get its revenge for all the cussing, because a sudden bang hit my front door hard enough to shake it. I inhaled one last drag, flicked the cigarette away, and padded barefoot to the entrance.
Through the blurred glass, I recognized the silhouette.
Great.
I groaned. Half of me considered hiding, the other half already resigned. If he was knocking, he’d seen me.
I took a deep breath, opened the door, and our eyes met.
He looked at me like he always did. Hungry. Sleazy. Possessive. I recoiled immediately.
“If it isn’t my favorite tenant,” Captain drawled.
I rolled my eyes. “I wired your money last week, Captain. What do you want?”
I had zero patience left for his snide comments—about my body, about how he could “f**k me to sunset and back” (seriously, who talks like that anymore? Old men and porn scripts.)
“What I want,” he said, stepping closer, “is to see your pretty face again, Seraphina. I missed you.”
I pulled the door tighter against me, blocking his attempt to enter. He smirked and stepped back.
“What right do you have to miss me? We aren’t dating,” I snapped, anxiety prickling under my skin.
He shrugged. “Well, that would’ve changed if only you’d give me a chance, Ser.”
I hated that nickname. It took nothing, nothing, to add the damn “a.” And all this because of one stupid date years ago. One drunken mistake. One night of the worst s*x of my life, where I had to fake every moan and every orgasm just to get it over with.
“This should be illegal,” I muttered. “You can’t be hitting on your tenant for nine years, Captain. Get a life.”
I tried to shut the door, but he grabbed the handle. My heart lurched painfully.
“It should also be illegal,” he said softly, “how I keep cutting your rent. Some months you don’t pay at all.”
I hated the way he tried to manipulate me with that. And worse, I hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong. Those months saved me. Without them, I’d have starved.
“You’re forgetting that every time I offer to pay full, you either send half back or refuse it,” I said. “No one asked you for your help.”
He smirked again, God, why did he have to be attractive and disgusting at the same time?
“Okay, you got me. I’ve been helping because I hoped it would make you notice me.” His voice sharpened bitterly. “But you choose to pretend you don’t see how I feel about you.”
I stepped back.
Close the door, Seraphina. You know where this goes.
But I didn’t. I didn’t want to be rude. And the truth was, he had helped, even if his intentions were foul.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Captain. But like I always say, I’m not ready for a relationship—”
He slammed the door so hard I flinched.
“I don’t want to f*****g date you, Sera.”
I stared at him, stunned. I’d never seen him look so dark. So angry.
Before I could process it, the look was gone—replaced with his usual slimy grin.
A cold chill slid down my spine.
“Did I scare you?” he asked.
“N-no,” I whispered. “I’ll just—”
I tried to close the door again. He stopped me.
His eyes dragged over my face, then slowly—too slowly—down my chest. He licked his lips. The violation crawled over my skin like insects. The familiar, stabbing ache rose under my ribs.
I held the door handle like a lifeline.
Finally, he lifted his hands in a fake surrender and stepped back.
“Sorry for scaring you, Ser. I’ll see you around.”
I didn’t wait. I slammed the door, locked it, and leaned my whole body against it, heart pounding so violently it hurt.
You did well, Seraphina.
Later that night, I couldn’t sleep. After tucking Ann into her little bed; she kept turning in discomfort from hunger, I stepped outside and smoked three more cigarettes. By the time I crawled back into bed, exhaustion dragged at my bones, but sleep refused to take me.
Just when I felt myself drifting, a faint rustle scraped against my window.
I didn’t move.
Probably another stray cat, maybe even one like Ann. That was how I found her, after all. This neighborhood was full of animals looking for warmth or scraps. Nothing new.
But the noise didn’t fade.
It grew louder. More deliberate. More… human.
I groaned into my pillow and tried to smother the sound. This area was one of the poorest in all of Italy—hell, maybe the poorest—so random noises in the night were practically a lullaby. But this? This was different. Persistent. Sharp and Wrong.
Then suddenly, silence.
And right on its heels, my front door opened and closed.
I shot upright. My eyes stretched so wide they hurt, my pulse thundering hard enough to shake my ribs.
Slowly and carefully, I slipped out of bed, keeping the lights off. My fingers wrapped around the first thing I found, a pair of scissors.
“Who’s there?” I whispered, voice trembling.
No answer. Of course.
I crept toward the living room, each step measured and silent. My breath locked in my chest as I peeked around the corner.
Nothing.
No movement.
No shadow.
Except Ann who was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes glowing with fear.
“It’s okay, Ann. Come here. Go back to sleep.”
But she only whined louder, backing away as if she sensed something I didn’t.
I stepped toward her, but a fist yanked my hair so hard my scalp screamed.
A rough hand clamped over my mouth, smothering the scream that ripped up my throat.
Shock froze my body. Ice-cold, paralyzing fear swallowed me whole.
Five seconds.
That’s how long it took for my survival instinct to slam back into place.
I kicked, thrashed and twisted against him.
“Stay still, you bitch.” His voice vibrated against my ear, shaking with anger.
I didn’t stay still. I refused.
My fingers remembered the scissors.
My mind remembered self-defense.
My body remembered every man who ever tried to break it.
I didn’t hesitate.
I drove the scissors straight into his eye.
He howled, an ugly, animalistic cry, and stumbled back, releasing me instantly. I collapsed forward, coughing, gasping, tasting metal in my mouth.
“You f*****g b***h!” he screamed. “You got my eye!”
Blood streamed down his cheek, dripping between his fingers as he clutched the wound.
I scrambled to my feet, slammed the light switch on—and froze solid.
My chest caved inward.
Because standing there…
Bleeding…
Enraged…
One eye ruined… was…
“Captain…?”
- Writer
