Chapter 2

Nowhere to Run

Sameera's POV

I woke up to darkness.

Strange.

Dad always left my bedside lamp on—he knew about my phobia.

I shifted, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain tore through my back.

"Hmph," I whimpered, my body aching in places I didn’t even know could hurt. My head throbbed, the pounding relentless, like something was trying to break out of my skull.

Then it hit me.

The memories.

The gunshot.

The blood.

Dad.

A choked sob escaped my lips.

No. No. No.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Today was supposed to be our father-daughter dance at school. My dress, my shoes, my crown… my dad.

Tears burned down my cheeks, my body shaking as reality crashed into me.

I didn’t even care where I was.

Didn’t care how I got here.

All I knew was that my father was dead, and I was alone.

Then—creak.

A door opened.

The only light in the room came from beyond it, a thin, eerie strip of illumination stretching across the floor.

My breath hitched.

Footsteps.

Slow. Calculated.

"Are you awake, little doll?"

That voice.

I knew it.

My body tensed, my heartbeat drumming against my ribs. Him. The man from last night.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to stay still. Pretend. Stay quiet. If I could just figure out who he was—why he killed my father—maybe I could escape.

Then—something touched me.

Slow. Soft. Slithering.

A chilling sensation trailed up my leg, creeping higher, pressing against the inside of my thigh.

I froze.

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

No.

"N-No," I whimpered, my voice barely a breath.

The touch disappeared.

"So, you're awake," he mused, his voice dark, amused. "Hmph, little doll."

My pulse thundered in my ears as I heard the click of a switch. Light flooded the room. My breath caught.

The man from last night stood beside my bed.

Rueben.

His lips curled into a slow, sickening smile as he reached out, brushing a finger against my cheek. I jerked away, glaring at him.

His smile widened.

"Oh, I love that," he murmured. "Stubbornness. It always turns me on in seconds."

He leaned in, inhaling deeply as if my scent was a drug he couldn’t get enough of. My skin crawled.

Little doll.

That’s what he called me.

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze.

"Yes," he chuckled, reading my thoughts. "Little doll."

I swallowed hard.

"It’s almost 11 PM," he continued, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just violated my space—my sanity. "You haven’t eaten. I’ll send for your food first. I don’t want anything disrupting us."

He ran his fingers through my hair once more before standing up.

Then, finally, he left.

I exhaled shakily, only now realizing I had been holding my breath.

But I didn’t have time to process my fear.

I had to get out.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the sharp sting of pain. My bare feet touched the cold floor, and I hesitated—listening.

Silence.

He was gone.

I sucked in a breath and moved.

One step. Another. Slowly. Carefully.

The door was slightly ajar. My only chance.

I peeked out.

The hallway was dimly lit, shadows stretching along the walls like hungry hands.

I slipped through the doorway, my breath shallow, my heart hammering as I tiptoed down the hall.

I needed to find a way out.

Or at least… Dad.

I had to see him.

Had to know.

I turned the corner—

And froze.

A figure stood at the end of the hall.

Tall. Unmoving.

Watching me.

My breath caught in my throat as they took a step forward, the dim light revealing their face.

My mother.

Leah.

She stared at me, her face unreadable. Not angry. Not relieved. Just… blank.

"Where do you think you're going, Sameera?" she asked.

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

Like she already knew the answer.

Like she already knew—

There was nowhere to run.