CH 3: My Silent Curse

Seraphina’s POV

My hands clamped down, knuckles white, a useless fight against the beating of my heart. 

Stuck in this suffocating dark, every breath was a silent curse, a demand for the outside world to just disappear. 

Cold, slick sweat crawled down my temples, stinging as it tracked paths to my chin. 

God, just let me just vanish!

Then, a shattering tear. The closet door slammed open, a blinding, brutal flash of light hitting my eyes. My breath caught, a choked, animal sound ripping from my throat, and my eyes snapped wide, wild with pure, raw terror. 

The shape in the doorway was a looming nightmare, tall, broad... a monster. My heart leapt into my throat, a frantic, trapped thing desperate to break free.

But then, the shadow sharpened. Just Hugo. My gut twisted—not pure relief, but a bitter, hard acceptance of this temporary break. 

The fear didn't leave completely, but it pulled back enough to let me breathe, a cold, solid knot settling where the panic had been.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now as he carefully lifted me. My lungs burned, each breath a painful gasp as I fought to pull in air. He moved to the side table, grabbed a bottle of water, and pressed it into my shaking hands. "Breathe..."

My hands trembled uncontrollably, but I tipped the bottle back, gulping the water down. It spilled, soaking the fabric of the dress — a dress that suddenly felt alien on my skin. My head snapped up. "You changed my dress?"

"Yes," he said, a trace of something unreadable in his green eyes. "Uh, don't worry, it's my little sister's dress, so I guess it's okay?"

I bit my lower lip, looking away, a surge of defiant discomfort warring with my desperation. "It's okay," I rasped, "but it's not okay to change someone's dress without permission."

"Your clothes were destroyed... it was not okay to look," he countered, his gaze unwavering.

Damn. This was it. I had never felt so utterly helpless in my entire life. My phone was gone, no one knew where I was, and what the hell was I supposed to do now? Cling to him for hope? Because it was clear as day: no one else could help me right now but this stranger.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.

"Sure," he said, handing it over without hesitation.

My lower lip took another beating as I dialed the only number I knew by heart. My boyfriend. It rang, and rang, and rang. No answer. A cold, sharp stab of betrayal. Wasn't he worried? Wasn't he looking for me?

"So, who are you calling?" Hugo's voice cut through my thoughts.

"My boyfriend," I said flatly.

"And he's not answering," he observed, his eyes steady on mine.

"Maybe I'll call later again," I muttered, handing the phone back, the weight of his unresponsiveness pressing down on me.

He took the phone, then grabbed his bag. "I gotta go. I have training this afternoon, and a game tonight." He paused at the door, his voice firm, almost a command. "So, if you're hungry, there's food in the refrigerator. And please... just stay here for one week, or else I'll call the police on you."

I nodded silently, a knot of gratitude and fresh anxiety forming in my stomach. "Thank you again."

He gave a curt nod in return, then left, the click of the door echoing in the sudden, vast silence of the apartment.

I didn't waste a second. I stormed back into the room, my eyes scanning for anything useful. That's when I spotted it: his black hoodie. I pulled it on; it swallowed me whole, but I didn't care. 

Then I grabbed a pair of his black sunglasses, a desperate attempt at a disguise, and slipped out of his apartment. I had to go back to my place. I needed cash, my debit card, a spare phone. Or maybe... maybe I'd just run, disappear somewhere far from here.

My heart hammered against my ribs with every step I took towards my condo building. 

The familiar facade loomed ahead, a place that was supposed to be safe. But as I walked into the lobby, a sickening punch to the gut. 

There, by the elevators, was Ralph. My boyfriend. And he wasn't alone. His lips were locked onto another woman's, her hands tangled in his hair. The fuck.

My breath caught. 

A primal scream clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it down, forcing the bitter taste of betrayal and humiliation back. 

I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I wouldn't break. My eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses, burned. I walked past them, a phantom, my gaze fixed on the reception desk.

"Spare key for 7B, please," I muttered, my voice miraculously steady. The receptionist barely looked up from her screen. "Lost mine."

"Name?" she droned, her finger hovering over the keyboard.

"Seraphina Smith."

She typed slowly, then slid a keycard across the counter. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I mumbled, snatching it up.

Key in hand, I let myself into my condo, the familiar scent of home now tainted. I moved like a ghost, stuffing my essential documents—IDs, credit cards, debit cards—into a small pouch, then tucked it deep into my pocket. 

My hands worked on autopilot, numb to everything but the desperate need to go. I grabbed the worn leather-bound journal from my nightstand, a small, silver locket I always wore, and a worn photograph of my parents. 

These were the only things that truly mattered.

Just as I zipped the pouch, the doorbell ripped through the silence. My blood ran cold. No. I knew who it was even before I saw the familiar outline through the peephole. Ralph.

I yanked the door open. He stood there, a smile already forming, probably ready to spin some pathetic lie. "Sera! There you are, babe, I've been so worried! My phone died—"

But he didn't get the chance to finish. My hand moved on its own, a blur of motion, connecting with his cheek with a satisfying smack. The sound echoed in the hallway.

His eyes widened, shock replacing his smirk. He touched his reddening cheek, utterly stunned. "What the hell, Sera?!"

"We're over," I snarled, the words raw, tearing from my throat. "You pathetic loser." Then I turned, bolted, not daring to look back.

"Hey! Sera! Wait! What are you talking about?!" Ralph's shout chased me, but I was already lunging into the elevator, hammering the 'close' button.

The doors hissed shut, cutting him off, leaving me alone in the small space. My vision blurred. I pressed my forehead against the cool metal wall, fighting, desperately fighting the hot, scalding tears that threatened to break free. 

Not now. Not here. I wouldn't cry for him. Not for any of them. I just needed to survive.