SERAPHINA
Noise first—running feet, shouts that blurred into one another. I fought to pry my eyes open, but the dark met me like a wall. I waved a hand before my face, fingers slicing through air I could feel but not see. Nothing. Just black, thick as water.
"W-What happened?" The words fell flat in the quiet.
My head throbbed, every muscle singing with ache. I tried to sit up, limbs heavy as stone. Dead? Hit by a car? I clawed at memory, but it slipped like soap. Car? What was I doing before…
I touched my forehead, then my eyelids—they were open, I could feel the stretch of skin. So why was the world gone?
Fragments clicked into place, sharp and sudden: the old woman hunched on the sidewalk, the glint of a knife, the van's rust-colored door slamming shut.
Right. I'd fought with mom at dawn—she'd screamed about dropping out, said school was a waste of money I didn't have. I'd stormed out, walking to campus when I saw them drag her in, saw the blade tear through her cotton shirt. I'd run without thinking, feet slamming against asphalt.
What came after? I squeezed my lids shut, chasing the ghost of it.
Then I remembered.
"He sprayed something in my eyes!" I jolted upright, sheets twisting around my legs.
My heart hammered against my ribs, so hard I felt it in my throat. I spun my head side to side, hands scrabbling over cool linen. The dark didn't shift.
The truth landed slow and heavy, pressing the air from my lungs.
"Am I… blind? Did I lose my sight?" My voice cracked, thin as spider silk. Hot tears tracked down my cheeks, and I didn't bother to wipe them away. Blind.
How will I finish school? My work? How can I make something of myself when I can't even find my own hands? Fear coiled in my gut, tight as a spring. They'll hate me more now.
If they'd resented me when I could see—when I'd scraped for every peso to pay tuition—what would they do now?
I drew a shaky breath, forcing my hands to unclench. That's when I heard it: a door opening, soft as a whisper, then closing. No footsteps, no words.
"H-Hello? Is anyone there?"
A pause, then a quiet clearing of throat. "I take it you've realized your condition, Miss Mortez." The voice was calm, even—like pouring water into a glass. A doctor, maybe.
"Am I really blind?" My hands trembled in my lap, knuckles white.
"For now. But it isn't permanent. We expect full sight back within a year—maybe sooner."
A year. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, but the knot in my chest didn't loosen. A year in darkness… who would take me in?
"W-What about the woman I tried to help? Is she okay?"
Another pause—long enough I could almost feel her looking at me. "You're worried about her, even now?" A hint of warmth in her laugh. "She's stable. Healing well."
Something lightened in my chest. The doctor spoke of swelling, of treatment, of drops I'd need to take—but the words slid off me, leaving only one thought: mom.
"Would you like us to contact your family? We can have someone call them."
I froze. "I… I don't know their numbers by heart." My voice sounded small, lost.
"I see. We'll find a way to—" The door slammed open so hard the frame rattled, wood groaning in protest.
"Seraphina!"
My breath caught. Mom.
"Ma'am, please—you can't just enter without—"
"M-Mom?" I cut through the doctor's protest, relief warring with dread so sharp it made my teeth ache. "How did you find me? I was so scared—"
A slap cracked through the air, landing hard on my cheek. I cried out, clutching my face as numbness spread over my skin. I didn't know where to turn—there was nowhere to look.
"Damn you! Useless enough before—now you're blind and good for nothing!" Her voice bounced off the walls, harsh and sharp.
"Mom, I didn't mean—"
Another slap, harder this time. My head spun, and I tasted copper on my tongue.
"You've never brought anything but curse to this house! Why did I even have you?"
Her words cut deeper than any blow. I heard her shouting at the doctor, voice rising and falling like broken glass. It was nothing new. Mom's anger had always been a storm I couldn't outrun. I mumbled for the doctor to let her stay, my voice flat and heavy as stone.
The air in the room thickened, warm and sour with anger. Without sight, every sense felt amplified: the shift of the mattress as she sat beside me, the rasp of her breath, the faint smell of sweat and cooking oil clinging to her clothes. I hunched against the headboard, waiting.
"Your Aunt Mila showed up at the house to tell me where you were, you fool!" She snapped. "What are we supposed to do with you now?"
"I don't know, mom. I don't know." My shoulders slumped, and the cane beside the bed felt like a weight I'd already been carrying.
So close to graduating. I'd counted every day, every exam, every paper I'd written by hand because we couldn't afford a computer. Now it all felt like smoke. Even if my sight came back—if—would anything be the same?
Silence stretched between us, long and tight. Then she spoke, and the words shredded what little hope I had left.
"I've decided. I'm selling you to Don Tiago. You're no use to us like this."
"Mom! I'm not a thing to be sold!" I cried out, hands fisting in the sheets until my knuckles burned.
She smacked my thigh, hard enough to make me flinch. "What else? You can't study, can't work—you'll just drain us dry. We need to take care of Hera, not clean up your messes!"
My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. How could she let me go so easy? What had I done to make her look at me like I was nothing more than a burden to be traded?
"At least with the governor, we'll get paid. You'll finally be worth something—and you'll live in a real house!"
Fear pricked at my skin, cold and sharp. Don Tiago… the stories drifted through my head—whispers of young women taken to his estate, never seen again. Before I could speak, the world tilted, and darkness swallowed me whole.
"Sera! Are you done yet? Hurry—Hera's gonna fix your face so you don't look like you've been crying all week."
I dropped my head, fingers wrapped around the smooth wood of my cane. Two days had passed since I'd woken up blind. Dad had yelled until his voice gave out—exactly what I'd expected.
"I'm ready," I said, voice flat as I sat on the edge of the bed. Footsteps approached, quick and light, then Hera's voice cut through the air.
"Ugh. Why did you have to go and get yourself blinded? Now you're gonna be that creep's toy." Her fingers were cold as she grabbed my chin, dabbing something sweet-smelling on my cheeks.
I said nothing. My heart was already in pieces—what more could she do to hurt me?
"Ah well. Thanks for the money, though! Finally getting out of this hole. Guess you are the breadwinner after all."
I let her pull me to my feet, let mol adjust my dress—too tight, too fancy, nothing I'd ever wear on my own. When they said the governor was here, they guided me toward the door, their hands heavy on my arms.
"What's wrong with you? Stop crying!" mom hissed, pinching my side hard enough to make me gasp.
Who wouldn't cry when their own family is selling them? But I bit my tongue, letting her drag me forward.
"Stop it! You're making us look bad!" Hera complained beside me.
I was almost grateful for the dark—grateful I wouldn't have to see his face, or the greed shining in my family's eyes.
"Don!" mom called out, her voice bright as polished glass.
"Oh, Mrs. Mortez! Is this the girl?" The voice was slick, oily—like warm grease sliding over stone. I could almost picture his smile, too wide, too sharp.
How do I get away?
"Yes, sir! Isn't she beautiful?" mom trilled.
"Beautiful indeed. Perfect, just perfect."
"Are you happy now, mom?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, quiet as dust.
She pinched me again, and I let out a laugh that sounded like broken glass.
What else could I expect from people who never saw me as their own?
I listened as they haggled, voices rising and falling over numbers I tried not to hear. Then a hand wrapped around my arm—warm, but firm enough to make my skin crawl.
"You're a lovely thing, sweetheart," he murmured in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.
I didn't move, didn't speak, letting him lead me toward what I assumed was his car. But before I could take another step, a voice cut through the noise—deep, cold, and sharp as a blade.
"Negotiating human trafficking… is that how you conduct business, Don Tiago?"
Even I froze, every muscle going tight. The hand on my arm squeezed hard with panic.
"V-Vitale! What are you doing here?" The governor's voice shook.
Vitale?
"I'm here for Seraphina Mortez. And it seems you're holding her against her will."
The governor shoved me away so fast I stumbled, my cane clattering to the ground. Strong arms caught me before I hit the dirt, pulling me close against a chest solid as stone. His scent filled my lungs—clean pine, something sharp and warm like wood smoke.
"W-What do you want with me?" I asked, my hands finding his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.
"Not now. We'll talk later. Just hold on." His voice was low, steady—impossible to resist.
"W-Wait! She's our daughter—" Dad stammered.
"How much did he offer you?" The man cut him off, his tone leaving no room for lies.
"H-Huh?"
"I won't ask again."
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
Five hundred thousand. I'd worked three jobs for a year to save a tenth of that. I wasn't surprised—nothing about this should have surprised me.
"I'll pay triple. In exchange, you forget Seraphina Mortez was ever your daughter. No claims, no contact. And if you ever try to find her…" He paused, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any threat.
"You'll regret it."
I heard my family scrambling, voices rising in panic and greed all at once. Then strong arms lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to his neck. I said nothing as he carried me to a car, setting me gently on seats soft as buttered leather.
"Stay here. I'll handle the rest." He closed the door, leaving me alone in the quiet dark—wondering who this man was, and why he'd pulled me from a fate I'd already begun to accept.