Chapter 1Mom got assaulted. And year later, I was born.
From day one, the whole family treated me like I was cursed.
Until eighth birthday, Mom took me out for the first time ever. Up on this trail, she said we were gonna play hide and seek.
"Find me, you get a prize. Don't? Then don't come home."
Heart racing, I covered my eyes and started counting.
Mom was really good at hiding. I searched everywhere—nothing.
Sky got darker. Kept tripping, falling. Every part of me wanted to quit—but where else could I go?
By the time I made it home, I was covered in cuts and bruises. Banged on the door crying—"Mom's GONE!"
Door cracked open just a little.
Seeing Mom, I tried to smile through the tears. "Mom... I found you!"
For a second, I thought she'd hug me. Tell me I did good.
Instead, she snapped. Slapped me so hard my ears rang.
"You little piece of trash—why didn't you DIE up there?"
I shrank back, too scared to move.
"Mom... I don't need the prize anymore."
---
"Prize? You DARE talk about a prize?!"
Mom screamed, grabbed my hair, yanked out clumps by the roots.
I wanted to run but ended up hugging her anyway.
"Mom... hurts..."
Suddenly, door swung wide. And Dad walked out. Face blank.
"She's back. Keep her for now. Deal with it later."
Then took Mom's hand, helped her inside.
Never looked at me once.
I wiped the blood off my arm, followed behind them.
My skinny fingers barely made it through before—WHAM.
Door slammed shut. And crushed my knuckles.
I screamed. Tears everywhere.
My little brother Jax stared from the window. Perfect little face full of disgust.
"Piece of trash. Make my mom mad again, next time it's your neck."
Pain. So much pain.
I wanted to yell. To ask him why.
But eight years taught me—make anyone mad, go to bed hungry.
I shrank back. "Jax... can I please come in?"
Jax snorted, stepped back holding his toy, eyeing my dirty clothes.
"Gross. What dumpster did you crawl out of? Don't touch anything."
I nodded hard, tiptoed inside, trying not to mess anything up.
House was huge. But most of it—off-limits.
I pushed open the heavy storage room door, and what I saw made my stomach drop.
My blankets—gone.
My stuff—vanished.
I just stood there, totally frozen, with no idea what to do.
Jax walked over, voice full of contempt. "Dad thought you weren't coming back. Threw all that garbage out."
I turned to him, confused. "I was just playing hide and seek with Mom... didn't say I wouldn't come back..."
"Hide and seek? Only a moron like you would believe that. Mom came home hours ago."
Jax sneered. "Want me to spell it out? Dad thinks you're bad luck. Doesn't want you."
Something inside me snapped.
Shoved Jax to the ground. "You're lying! Dad wouldn't do that!"
"I'm not bad luck! I'm his kid too!"
Jax—used to getting everything—went pale.
Right then, Dad showed up.
I shook, looked down. "I... didn't mean to..."
Dad's eyes were flat—no emotion at all. He just said a few words, cold and quiet, then turned and walked off without looking back.
"Follow me."
I followed Dad to the side of the yard, where there was this old, abandoned dog shed.
Dad pointed inside. "You sleep here now. And don't you DARE set foot in that house unless I say so."
I nodded, peeked in.
Nobody had touched this place in years. The second I looked inside, the stench hit me—thick, rotten air that made my stomach turn.
Even worse than the storage room.
Dad didn't say another word. Just turned and walked off.
"Dad, wait—"
Without thinking, I reached for his sleeve. But he shoved me back hard. I slammed into the ground.
Dad frowned, glanced at his sleeve like I'd dirtied it.
"What."
Something clicked in my brain. Something I shouldn't understand yet.
"Nothing, Dad... I'll be good."
Nights in Cleveland was freezing. My thin jacket did nothing.
I woke up freezing multiple times that night. Each time, I'd stare at the house—all lit up and warm—then drift back to sleep.
Around dawn, laughter woke me up.
I looked up just as a rock smashed into my forehead. Blood splattered everywhere.
Chapter 2
A bunch of kids my age stood there staring, already grabbing more rocks to throw.
"What the hell is that thing?"
"Jax, where'd your dad even find it?"
Jax looked down his nose at me. "Street. Probably nobody wanted it."
"What about her parents?"
"She's a bastard. Doesn't have any."
That word—bastard—stabbed right through me.
"I DO have parents! My dad's Grayson Hunt, my mom—"
Before I could finish, Jax charged. His foot slammed into my eye.
"SHUT UP! They're MY parents! Nothing to do with you, you piece of trash!"
Seconds later, blood covered half my face—blurred my vision, blocked out those terrified faces staring at me.
The pain was so intense my legs gave out. I dropped to my knees, body shaking uncontrollably.
Screams around me started fading. My mind kept slipping in and out, right on the edge of shutting down.
Through the haze, I heard footsteps getting closer.
Dad stared down.
"Still breathing?"
Someone lifted my face.
"Severe blood loss. Eye's damaged. Without treatment, she might—"
"Then take her to the ER. Save her if you can."
They loaded me into an ambulance and rushed me into a freezing operating room.
When I woke up, the butler was standing there, staring at me with this complicated look—like he felt sorry for me but didn't know what to say.
"You made it. But your eye..."
I froze. My shaking fingers slowly reached up to my face—touched nothing but an empty socket.
The butler's guilt got even heavier. He started to say something, but Dad's call came through.
"She awake? Bring her back. Those kids are freaked out. She needs to apologize."
The butler hesitated. "But her wounds haven't—"
Dad's voice went ice-cold.
"No buts. Bring her back. Right now!"
The butler rushed off to handle discharge. Right then, a doctor walked in, face serious.
"Where's your parent?"
I was still out of it. Just stared at him.
The doctor frowned. Set a report on the table. "Tell your parents—you've got a tumor. It's spreading. Come see me the second you're back."
Like he was worried I wouldn't get it, the doctor paused at the door. Then turned back. Looked at me seriously.
"Stay calm. Don't let your folks worry."
Tumor. Didn't know what that meant.
But that last part—I got that.
I stared at the paper for a while. Quietly tucked it in my pocket.
"But I'm a bastard. Nobody worries about me."
When Butler brought me home, Dad stood there, face dark.
Chapter 3
Blood in the yard had been cleaned up. But Jax and the others were still pale.
Dad looked up. My bandaged face made him flinch. Then—cold again.
"Kneel. Say sorry."
I knelt, bowed over and over. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
Mom walked over, holding that bloody shoe.
"You made this dirty?"
Seeing that shoe brought it all back—the tip drilling into my eye socket, tearing through everything.
My face went cold. All the color drained out.
"Yeah," I whispered. "It... it hurt my eye."
"Lick it clean."
My whole body locked up. Stared at the dried blood caked on the leather. Shook my head without thinking.
"Mom... that's blood."
Her face darkened—like a storm rolling in. Eyes locked on mine, dead serious. She said it again, slower this time.
"I said. Lick. It. Clean."
That look in her eyes—it terrified me. I backed away, voice shaking. "Can I... can I just not?"
"I'll wipe it off with my hands, I promise—"
She snapped.
Let out this raw, guttural scream and lunged at me. Grabbed the shoe and started slamming it into my head.
"I SAID LICK IT CLEAN! Are you DEAF?!"
Once. Twice. Again.
My ears rang. Blood poured from the cut on my forehead that never fully healed, dripping down onto her clothes.
"Mom, I'm sorry! Please—please stop—"
I was terrified—arms wrapped around my head, trying to shield myself from the storm of blows raining down on me.
It felt like forever before Mom finally stopped. But her eyes stayed glued to me, filled with so much poison I thought I might actually dissolve.
"You little bitch," she hissed. "That piece of shit tortured me. Now his daughter gets to feel the same."
I shook my head so hard. Tears mixed with blood, streaming down my face in broken lines.
"Dad saved me. He's not—"
Dad—who'd been silent this whole time—went rigid. Then he was charging at me, hand clamped around my throat, lifting me clean off the ground.
Eye to eye. His gaze was feral. Unhinged. Like staring into the eyes of something that wanted me erased.
"Listen. Carefully." His voice was ice. "I am NOT your dad."
"You're a bastard. A mistake who shouldn't exist."
Couldn't breathe. Lungs screaming. Survival instinct kicked in—I clawed at his arm, thrashing.
But Dad just kept staring, waiting for an answer.
"Get it? Or not?"
I nodded weakly. Arms dropped limp. "I get it."
"I'm a bastard. Don't have... parents..."
Before I could finish, blood gushed from my nose. A single drop landed on Dad's shirt.
He froze. Stared at that drop like it was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen.
I panicked, tried to wipe it off—
"Get your filthy hands OFF me!"
Dad hurled me to the ground like I was trash. Dragged Mom back inside.
I wanted to say sorry. But the world was spinning—couldn't move. Couldn't even lift my head.
Shock. Disgust. Pity… All burning into me.
The servants scattered. And just like that, I was back in the shadows. Invisible.
As night fell, the shed was freezing, damp. But the living room—warm, glowing, so far away it might as well have been on another planet.
I looked up. Let myself imagine—just for a second—what it'd be like to sit on that couch. Eat real food. Play with toys. See Mom smile.
"Hey. What're you staring at?"
Jax's voice cut through the fantasy. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
I looked away fast. Shook my head. "Nothing."
"About earlier..." He hesitated. "Don't take it personal."
Seeing the blood-soaked bandages on my face made something shift in his expression.
"Here." He tossed something into the dog bowl. "Eat this. And don't tell anyone I gave it to you."
A slice of blueberry cake. It looked so good. Smelled even better.
But I backed away, shaking. Terrified.
This morning—Mom's beating. Still fresh. Still real.
Disobeying meant pain. I couldn't go through that again.
"What's with that look?"
Jax frowned, voice turning sharp again. "Whatever. Starve then."
He walked off. The second he was gone, I reached for the cake—
"Sera. Does it taste good?"
Mom's voice exploded in my ear.
Blood drained from my face. Dropped to my knees instantly, head slamming the ground.
"Mom! I'm sorry! I won't steal food again! I swear!"
Mom stepped closer. Slow. Deliberate. Her heel came down on the cake, crushing it into mush.
I whimpered—then looked up.
Froze.
"Mom... what're you—what're you doing?"
Her face twisted into something unrecognizable. Insane. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and started dragging me.
"Gonna kill you," she muttered, voice hollow. "Maybe then that bastard will finally show up."
