Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 109
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The room felt like a vapor of volcano was dripping from a part of the ceilings, and a downpour of cold calm water from another part.
Seraphina felt both, and her mind buttons malfunctioned.
She felt sick.
She wants to press herself back and not feel a thing from the question she just heard, but she also badly wants to believe it meant something.
But it’s not easy pulling herself back. After all, it’s the first time a man asked her how her night went.
It’s the first time a man brought her breakfast in bed.
It’s the first time a man allowed her on his bed.
She’s on his laps, lips an inch apart, their noses brushing everytime.
He’s even smiling softly, but she knows better. She choose the fiery volcano part to believe. She choose to believe this is all fake and unreal.
Vince broke her once.
Dean broke her twice.
This man in front of her won’t be allowed to do that the third time.
She pushed herself up from his laps, and he let her go without trying to hold her down forcefully.
She stepped away from him and slowly brushed her hair back, avoiding eye contact.
“If you have anything to say to me, say it and be plain. Don’t sugarcoat things and try to make me feel better by fakery. I’m…fine, and I don’t need your pity.” She muttered.
A little, undetected breach made Tobias’s eyes shift for a second, but he slipped back his blankness immediately. He stopped smiling.
He picked the food tray from the bed, then he stood and let it go.
The tray landed hard on the floor, letting away all of it’s contents.
The fruits, tea, bread and whatnot. They spilled away. Some of the tea spilled on her pyjamas.
The congratulatory message disappeared from the LED door too.
He went for the exit.
“Someone will bring you a new food tray that’s not fake.” He coldly said before stepping away.
He slammed the door.
Seraphina sat back in bed, staring at the mess of food on the floor.
She looked at her stained pyjamas and raised her legs to bed, wrapping her arms around her knees.
She sat there for nearly an hour, unmoved till she noticed that robotic hand stretching from the wall again.
She stood, jumped over the food mess and went to the wall.
“You need something? Press the button!” The hand voice spoke.
Seraphina pressed one of the buttons beside it, and a bottle of whiskey rolled into that hand.
It’s a wall cellar.
She took the wine, opened it with a pop and began drinking.
She ended her night with one bottle of wine last night, she might as well open her day with another bottle.
She stayed by that wall as she drank like a drunkard, and when she turned, she noticed a metal cigar box on the bed drawer. His cigar box.
She went for it, picked one, and fired it up using the metal box itself.
She had a long drag and pushed the smokes down with whiskey.
She looked at the wasted food on the floor again, took another drag, imagining his back view when he was going out angrily earlier.
She drank again, and her phone buzzed in bed.
She was drinking as she went for the phone, picking it up.
It’s a text.
She flipped it open…
• I missed you, little angel.
Little Angel.
That was what he called her. That was what Vince called her.
She dropped the phone and puffed on the cigarette again, shoving her fingers into her hair.
Surprisingly, she got an idea for her next crocheting project.
She got the idea like a raging storm, and she immediately looked for a paper in his room, but she found none. This room is way too organized that it felt impossible to find such.
Even a pen is nowhere.
She went to the wall again, pressing another button.
“I need a pen, and a sketchbook.” She muttered as if testing it.
Two minutes later, she heard soft sounds by the door.
She went for it and saw Grimm right there, knocking with it’s paws.
The dog held a sketchbook and a pen between it’s teeth.
She took the items and wanted to stroke it’s head, but the dog left before she could.
She returned inside and quickly sent a text to Allison.
Seraphina: I’m fine, don’t start worrying again. Whenever you’re less busy next week, we’ll throw my success party together.
After sending, she began sketching the idea she got.
Alone in the room, she worked fast, sketching, smoking, drinking.
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