Seraphina's Point Of View
I dragged myself away from the door like it might suddenly accuse me of something else if I stayed too close. The house felt too quiet now. Too aware. Like the walls had ears and were filing reports.
I wandered into the living room, barefoot, the cold tile shocking my senses just enough to keep me grounded. My reflection caught in the dark TV screen… oversized shirt swallowing my frame, shorts hanging low on my hips, hair a mess, eyes still swollen and slightly haunted.
I stared at myself.
Then I groaned.
"Great," I muttered. "Just great."
I flopped dramatically onto the couch, arms spread wide like I'd been defeated by life itself, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me, completely unbothered by my existential crisis.
"Well," I said aloud to no one, "my chances of going to heaven just officially got ruined."
I paused.
"All because of those idiots."
The words left my mouth sharp, bitter, satisfying for exactly half a second.
