———-
Serena
The car stops without a sound. I press into the window where I am tied and placed. I hope and pray that I might escape back to the cathedral, back to D'mtri. My hands shake, but not from cold—rather from fear and grief. I think to myself, why me, and how am I going to escape this? When the door opens and I am yanked out, he is there. The tall man now appears to have blue on his left eye and a mixed color on his right. His presence alone stops me from moving.
"Welcome. This is your home now," he says. "Follow me."
I refuse. "This isn't my home," I spit. "I have to go back. I have to bury him. He was the only one who ever cared for me!"
The tall man's gaze doesn't change. "You will stay. You will obey," he says, with one hand pressed against my shoulder.
I try to pull away. I try to run as fast as I can. But he catches up with me in no time. The next moment, I am tied to a bed. Not so tight like Father used to tie me, but tight enough to allow me no space for an escape. They remind me that the only way to survive here is to obey. But I won't, because I don't belong here. I'd rather die than stay where God doesn't want me to be. The mansion is quiet at night, but it is never truly silent.
"Let me go. I need to go and pray," I cry out. "I need to pray. I need to ask God for forgiveness."
I just stare at the walls in the room I am tied in. After a while, I hear footsteps, and then the door opens. It's him.
"I hear you want to pray, Little Roseflower?" he asks, and I nod.
"From now onwards, there'll be nothing like that," he says. "There's no God, Serena. There's no God that'll make you a slave to him, that'll abuse you sexually and physically, that'll force you to think you are nothing as a woman, Serena."
He then touches my scars "No God gives you scars this deep." he adds.
"No, there's a God. He is in the scriptures… He is like Father D'mtri." "He's a kind person."
"Well, I'll teach you otherwise."
He walks out of the door, and I hear him lock it.
A few minutes later, he comes back with a tray in his hands. He sets the tray before me. "You'll need to eat for me. You look so small."
"I like how I look," I tell him, trying so hard not to look at him.
"I love how you look, Serena, but I am worried about you being sick. You're severely underweight," he says. "You look like you weigh about 42 kilos. That's not devotion, that's damage," he adds.
He feeds me, and I turn my face from him.
"Serena, you need to eat," he says. "Unless you want me to force you to, open your mouth."
I turn my face away so hard that it hurts my neck. He holds my chin and turns me toward him.
"I don't repeat myself."
His eyes look darker, and a bit of anger flashes across his face. The smell of the food makes my stomach turn. He lifts a spoon toward my mouth.
"Don't," I snap, twisting away, nearly tipping the chair.
His patience thins. He sets the bowl aside and offers water instead. I spit in his face.
For a moment, everything stops. I see it—the crack in his gentleness. Not anger. Not yet. But close. Good.
"I don't care," I say, shivering. "Do your worst."
His jaw tightens. I spit again.
That's when he snaps.
In one swift movement, the ties are gone. I barely have time to react before I fight—clawing, kicking—but he's stronger. Controlled. He restrains me again, firmer this time.
"Enough."
Tears burn my eyes as he forces the spoon past my resistance, again and again, until my throat aches and sobs tear out of me uncontrollably. When it's done, he steps back like nothing happened. I'm shaking.
He drags me to the bathroom and pushes me inside. Cold tiles bite into my feet.
"Clean yourself," he says flatly.
I just lie on the floor.
Without a word, he turns on the shower. Cold water splashes down over me, soaking me instantly.
"Undress," he says.
I act as if I hadn't heard his words until he walks closer. "Please, I am on it," I say before he touches me.
I undress and allow the water to wash me. He just stands there watching. "Can you excuse me?" I ask and replies "No." I nod and clean up.
And somehow, that feels worse.