CHAPTER 3

Elena's POV

Two decades have passed since I officially became a member of the wood family.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I sat in front of the mirror, gazing at my own reflection. Despite my unending attempts to wipe them away, they kept flowing like an unstoppable force.

I knew perfectly that the tranquilized atmosphere in the house was temporary even at the late hours of the night. I work like an elephant and hardly get 3 square meals a day.

I've grown to find out that the man who claimed to be my dad hardly stays at home. He's always going on business trips.

My mood was aligned with the heavy cloud and Stormy night. My tears rolled down to the scar on my chin.

“Beautiful,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. At 17, this particular scar was given to me when I was accused of snatching Alana's boyfriend at the prom. The memories flickered in my mind. I could feel the pain.

“It's all for the best,” I said reassuringly, giving myself false hopes and expecting things to get better.

I couldn't help but wonder, why was my entire world built around pain.

Why was I caught up in the cycle of continued pain? The word ‘Peace’ seemed like an illusion, only existing in the imaginary world.

To others, the night is the perfect time to sleep. But to me, it's just a brief moment to pick myself up from the grave of pain and give in to the false hope that is playing in my mind.

The sound of footsteps jolts me away from my thoughts. I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to hide any evidence of tears. The footsteps were approaching my door. After a while, I didn't hear them again. Perhaps the person had left.

Before I could process everything, the door flung open. From the mirror, I could see my stepmother's reflection as she stood at the threshold, her face pale as usual.

“Those scars make you beautiful, honey. Embrace them,” she said coldly, a weird smile on her face. I ignored her and kept on staring at the mirror.“ We've run out of whiskey, go to the bar and buy some, will you?” She dropped the money on the floor and left.

I took a glance at the wall clock and it was just a few minutes past midnight. I walked to the window and checked if the rain was heavy. To my advantage, it was just drizzling. I exhaled slowly and picked up the torn jacket I had, wore it on, and off I was, into the Streets.

The smell of burning cigarettes hung heavy in the air. I could see men lying on the streets like dogs. It was obvious that they were drunk.

“Hey, hottie. A dollar for the night?” They called in unison, expecting a reply.

“Pervs,” I muttered, still hastening my footsteps.

A few miles away from my house, I felt a chill run down my spine. I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being watched by someone lurking in the dark corners of the street.

I quickened my pace, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. Aside from the men who spoke naughty words about me, I saw no one who picked interest in me.

I know quite well that it wasn't safe for a lady to be outside by this time of the night. It would only take an insane person to be outside by this time.

I broke into a run, not caring if anyone saw me. I just wanted to get away from whatever that's giving me the creepy feeling of being watched.

I flung open the bar's door, slamming it behind me. I held the door's knob for a while, catching my shallow breaths. I made my way to the counter, ignoring the stares of a few men who were staring at me. I bought the whiskey and left the bar.

I sighed with relief as I made my way home, the whiskey bottle tucked safely under my arms. I decided to try another route, a shorter way to get home.

I couldn't shake the feeling that my stalker was close to the bar waiting for the perfect moment to attack me or maybe even do something far worse.

The streets were quiet and I felt safe. I couldn't help but wonder, maybe the thought of being watched was just in my head. Maybe the night could still be salvaged after all.

I felt my shoulders relax. I could see my house looming ahead of me. I couldn't wait to get home and take off my wet sweater. I walked faster to my door and pressed the doorbell multiple times but I got no reply.

“Where the heck did they all go?” I muttered. Before I could press the doorbell again, I felt a sudden hand cover my mouth and nostrils from behind.

The last thing I could remember was the sound of the whiskey I was asked to buy shattering on the floor.

The world spun around and everything faded, leaving me in a world of pitch black.