The dim light flickered above Liora's head as she sat silently on the floor of her small bedroom, hugging her knees to her chest. The walls were thin, but not thin enough to let anyone hear her cries. Not that anyone ever tried to listen.
A bruise was blooming along her collarbone, hidden beneath the stretched neckline of her faded T-shirt. She didn't cry anymore. Tears had stopped coming when she turned sixteen—three years into the nightmare that no one ever saved her from.
The door creaked open.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Heavy footsteps. The thick scent of sweat and cheap whiskey floated toward her like a warning. She didn't have to look up. She already knew who it was.
"Liora," Ronald's voice slurred, his tone low and dangerous, "you been ignoring me, huh?"
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her skin. She had learned long ago that saying nothing made it worse, but saying anything still never helped.
He crouched beside her, fingers brushing the bruise on her neck like he was proud of it.
"You're lucky, y'know," he whispered, breathing too close. "Most girls don't get this kind of love."
She flinched. Disgust curled in her stomach like poison. But still, she stayed still. She had learned to go somewhere else in her mind—to float away while the monster wore her body like it was his to use.
After he was done, he left without a word, as if she were nothing more than a piece of old furniture. She lay there in silence, feeling filthy, empty, and invisible.
Hours passed before the front door slammed again. She heard her mother's heels clicking angrily toward her room.
Beth May entered with her eyes sharp and red from wine.
"I saw the marks," her mother hissed. "What did you do to make him so angry this time?"
Liora blinked. "I didn't—"
"Don't you lie to me!" Beth snapped. "I gave you a home. I gave you a father. And you repay me by trying to seduce him like some—some cheap little—"
Liora's lips parted, shocked. "I never—Mom, I didn't—he—he forced—"
Beth raised her hand and slapped her so hard that her head jerked sideways.
"Don't you dare speak like that about him! Do you want to ruin everything for me? For us?" Beth shouted.
Liora felt her cheek burning, but the pain inside was far worse. She looked up at the woman who had once braided her hair and told her bedtime stories. All of that love had died the day Beth married Ronald.
"You're just like your real father," Beth spat bitterly. "Weak. Useless."
And then she left.
The silence returned. It always did.
Liora curled back up on the floor, breathing in shallow bursts. The cold air didn't comfort her. The walls didn't protect her. Her body didn't feel like hers anymore.
She stared at the ceiling, wondering how many nights like this would pass before something—anything—would change.
She didn't want to die. But she didn't want to keep living like this, either.
In her mind, she whispered the only prayer she had left.
"Please, someone… anyone… make it stop."
And somewhere, far away in the shadows, someone was watching her.A man who hunted pain.A man who believed beauty was a curse.A man who had just chosen his next victim.
But fate had a different plan.