SERAPHINA'S POV
"Ow, easy there!" I wince, shooting Olivia a look through the vanity mirror as she yanks my hair, all in the guise of crafting pigtails.
Just minutes before, Olivia had burst into the room, full of the 'brilliant' idea that we could spend some quality time braiding our hair and catching a movie.
Instantly, I knew what she was up to-another well-intentioned attempt to pull me out of my emotional black hole. Just like Juliet, Alice, and Lucian, she's been on a mission to brighten my days.
What they don't seem to grasp is that their overwhelming kindness feels like suffocation.
Every hug, every over-enthusiastic smile, and every forced joke just serve as sharp reminders of the emotions I should be experiencing but can't summon anymore.
"If you don't sit still, the braid's gonna turn out all wonky," Olivia chides, her fingers busy weaving my hair.
"Yeah, well, I'd rather have a wonky braid than a bald spot," I retort.
Catching her eye in the mirror, I see her hands fumble, her fingers trying to give form to the strands of hair.
The result looks less like a braid and more like a tangle with aspirations.
"Done!" she finally announces, pulling away from my head and assessing her handiwork.
Her face is plastered with a proud smile. I look at myself closely, already knowing it looks nothing like a braid.
But, given the emotional state I'm in, I don't have the strength to be bothered by the two hair horns sticking up from my head.
"Do you like it?" she poses the dreaded question.
"Uhh... sure," I lie through my teeth, discovering that lying has become way easier since my emotions have been thrown off-kilter. Guilt no longer claws at me as it used to.
She claps her hands together, wearing the brightest smile ever. Her happiness stems from finally doing something that pleases me, and suddenly those old feelings of guilt find their way back to me again.
I try to force a smile, attempting to manifest that big ball of energy and the good mood I used to have-before everything went south with Morgan and Artemis.
Instead, I'm hit again by a wave of emptiness and sadness, killing any desire to engage in activities like braiding hair or watching movies.
"Uhhh, Sera... you're smiling a bit too hard there," Olivia points out, just as she notices what should be a smile but looks more like I'm baring my teeth.
I drop it, releasing a heavy sigh and amplifying my sense of frustration.
"It's okay," she assures me.
"It's not," I respond, turning my eyes away from her with a cold tone.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passes between us. I can almost hear the gears turning in her brain as she desperately tries to figure out how to lighten the mood again.
"Let's just get into watching the movie. You'll feel so much better," she assures me, clinging to her optimism.
I nod, surrendering to her idea. We set everything up, and she pulls out 'Pretty Woman.' The night rolls on smoothly, both of us settling side by side under warm, comfy blankets and munching on popcorn.
Every few minutes, Olivia laughs at something on the screen, drawing my attention to its supposed humor.
I muster a small smile and nod my head, trying to keep the atmosphere from dropping.
Olivia is fully engrossed in the unfolding romance of the two protagonists, but my mind is elsewhere, wandering through a maze of what-ifs and might-have-beens.
What would my life have been like if I had stayed in an all-human school?
I wouldn't have met Olivia or Lucian or any of the members of my campaign team-let alone Artemis.
My existence would've been simpler, free of death threats and psychos chasing me for merely existing. And perhaps, just perhaps, I wouldn't be tormented by dreams and visions of a world that is beyond my understanding.
I'd just be Seraphina, unremarkable and normal.
God, how I yearn to feel normal again.
A part of me misses the good parts of the orphanage, like the home-made porridge we lined up for, or the long worn-out table we ate on, or even Miss Lucy - the first werewolf to have ever been kind to me. The first woman who ever felt like my mother.
Sometimes, I do wonder about my real parents. My mother. My father. Did I ever have siblings? How did they die? Miss Lucy has never talked about it, and because the orphanage has been the only home I've ever known, I've never bothered asking.
Snapping back to the present, I realize the movie credits are already rolling.
Olivia, beside me, snores softly, deep in her slumber. I turn off her laptop and set it aside. Lifting her onto her bed is out of the question-I simply don't have the strength for it.
So I rearrange the blankets we've strewn across the floor, creating a makeshift bed for her. I cover her with another layer to fend off the cold, and she immediately snuggles in, her face relaxing into a slight smile.
As I watch her, envy simmers within me.
How I wish I could sleep that peacefully, devoid of nightmares where I'm hunted by strange beasts, or haunted by incoherent whispers.
That's precisely why I've avoided sleep for the past three days, choosing consciousness over the assault on my sanity.
I move towards the balcony, bathing in the soft luminescence of the full moon.
My eyes lift skyward, my heart swelling with an undefined longing. It's as if I'm waiting for something-or someone. The sky is full of sparkling gems, mesmerizing in its beauty.
And even though my current state dulls my capacity for wonder, I feel moved by the celestial sight. I sense another presence, as if someone is watching me.
Could it be the Moon Goddess? The celestial being worshipped by wolves, guiding them down the paths of their destinies and bonds?
I wonder, just for a moment, if she has any guidance to spare for a clueless human like me.
"Do you think I'm crazy?" The question spills from my lips, more to the cool night air than anyone-or anything-in particular. I'm addressing the moon, of all things, as if it could offer any comfort or guidance.
"Olivia says I'm not," I continue, my voice softer now, laced with doubt. "She thinks it's just a reaction to everything I've been through, one trauma after another with no break. She says my mind is taking the rest it needs by toning down some of its usual functions." I pause, inhaling deeply as if the night air could fill the hollow spaces inside me. "That's just a fancy way of saying I've lost my marbles, isn't it?"
Suddenly, the realization stabs me like a dagger. I'm here, talking to the freaking moon, when my best friend is just inside, snug in her blanket cocoon.
If that doesn't confirm I'm unhinged, what does?
"I don't know what to do anymore," I confess, my voice tinged with desperation and almost broken. "I just want things to make sense. No, I need things to make sense."
I just want to find purpose and meaning.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with being a little crazy." A different voice, one that isn't mine, cuts through the still night air.
I freeze, immediately thinking the voices in my head have returned. But no, this isn't the playful, deep timbre that haunted me. This voice, I'd know anywhere-wicked, confident, irresistibly familiar.
I cast my gaze downward from my balcony perch, half expecting to see nothing, to confirm that I've finally snapped.
Yet, there he is.
Those impossibly blue eyes meet mine, twinkling like the night sky, framed by a devilish grin that I've both dreaded and missed.
Stifling a gasp, my hands fly to my lips as I step back from the ledge. This has to be a hallucination, a figment of my stressed mind.
He allows me no such luxury of doubt. With inhuman agility, he leaps, scaling the wall effortlessly, before hoisting himself onto the ledge of my balcony. As if he's just dropping by for coffee.
"Hey," he greets, the nonchalance in his voice clashing with his dramatic entrance.
Now, mere feet away from me, there's no room for doubt.
He's real.
My heart hammers loudly in my chest, each beat a question mark, each thump an exclamation point.
As I stand there, dumbstruck, he leans closer, the grin never leaving his face.
"Tell me, Sera, did you miss me?"