Chapter 2

• Sera stepped up to the counter and set down the few items she’d managed to pick out with her meager budget—a half-loaf of bread, a can of soup, a small carton of milk. She avoided eye contact as the cashier slid the items over the scanner with a blank expression, barely glancing her way. The total flashed up on the register, and she handed over her card, silently praying it would go through.
• The cashier swiped it once, then paused as the machine beeped loudly, drawing the attention of a few customers in line behind her. Sera's stomach sank as the cashier turned the screen to show the words she dreaded: Insufficient Funds.
• "Could you try it again, please?" Sera asked, keeping her voice low, as if speaking softly could somehow make the outcome different. She felt the beginnings of sweat prickle at her temples as the cashier, now visibly annoyed, swiped the card again.
• Beep.
• Insufficient Funds.
• Someone behind her let out an exaggerated sigh, and then she heard it: the irritated grumbles of people waiting, shifting impatiently, muttering under their breath.
• “Come on, lady,” one of them said. “Some of us have places to be.”
• Sera could feel her face heating up, her embarrassment rising in her chest like a hot wave. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to shrink into nothingness right there by the register.
• “I can… I can just leave it,” she murmured, reaching out to take her card back, her voice trembling. But just as she was about to gather her things and run, a soft, steady voice spoke up behind her.
• “I can cover it. Don’t worry about it,” said a young woman standing directly behind her. The stranger smiled, her gaze warm and kind, as she took out her own card and handed it to the cashier.
• “Oh, no, I—I couldn’t…” Sera stammered, feeling a mix of gratitude and mortification flood through her.
• “It’s really no problem,” the woman insisted, her smile widening as she paid for the items. “Honestly, happens to the best of us.”
• When the payment went through, Sera stumbled over a flurry of thank-yous, her face burning with embarrassment. She clutched her groceries to her chest and hurried out of the store, her gratitude barely containing the sting of humiliation.
• Once she’d put some distance between herself and the bustling store, she stopped and leaned against a lamppost, her hands shaking. Taking a deep breath, she opened her banking app, dreading what she knew she’d find.
• The balance blinked up at her in cruel, cold numbers: $11.67. Not even enough to buy a proper meal for herself, let alone anything extra. She chewed her bottom lip as she stared at it, an ache forming in her chest. She counted out the little bit of change she had left in her bag—three crumpled dollar bills and a handful of coins—and let out a weary sigh.
• With nothing more to do but keep going, Sera clutched her bag tightly, adjusted the hood of her jacket against the chilly wind, and began the long walk home, each step feeling heavier than the last.
• —
• Sera's feet carried her through the shabby downtown area of Detroit, where the sidewalks were cracked and littered with debris. The evening air was thick with the scent of burnt trash and desperation, and she held her bag of groceries tightly against her chest, hunching her shoulders inward to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. As she passed a group of strays loitering in a doorway, the men’s laughter echoed off the crumbling brick walls, and the sharp scent of smoke hung heavily in the air. Sera quickened her pace, avoiding their gaze as they eyed her like prey.
• Finally, she turned down the narrow alley that led to her home, a rundown tenement building that had seen better days—long before she was even born. The paint was peeling, and the windows were grimy, obscured by years of neglect. Graffiti covered the walls, and the buzzing of a flickering streetlight cast eerie shadows that danced across the cracked concrete. She pushed open the door, feeling a rush of stale air as it creaked in protest, and locked it behind her, the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place providing a fleeting sense of safety.
• Inside, the small apartment was a reflection of her life: cramped and cluttered. The flickering light of the small TV blared loudly in the living room, drowning out the silence. But as Sera glanced around, her heart sank. Her father wasn’t sprawled out on the dingy couch, his usually beer-soaked presence absent. A wave of hope washed over her, but it quickly receded, leaving only dread in its wake.
• She dropped the groceries on the counter in the cramped kitchen, the faint smell of stale beer still lingering from the previous day. Taking a deep breath, she leaned up and pulled open a cupboard that was barely hanging on its hinges, revealing a small box she kept hidden behind a stack of mismatched plates. Her heart raced as she pulled it out, her mind racing with thoughts of what she’d been saving.
• But as she opened the box, a gasp escaped her lips. It was empty.
• “No, no, no…” she whispered, her hands trembling. Her father had taken her stash again, and anger surged through her veins like fire. She had moved the box from shelf to shelf, hiding it in different places, but somehow, he always found it. The money she had saved for food, for a rainy day, for a way out—gone, all gone, to feed his gambling addiction and his never-ending thirst for alcohol. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and she pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry.
• Sera inhaled deeply, forcing herself to relax. I just need to find a job. It was the only way to regain some control over her life. She wouldn’t let him destroy her dreams too.
• Just then, she heard a strange sound coming from the back of the apartment, a muffled thud followed by a low, pained groan. Her heart raced as she crept toward her father’s room, the door slightly ajar. With trembling hands, she pushed it open and gasped at the sight before her.
• Her father lay on the floor, bloodied and beaten, a hulking man holding him by the collar. The man’s bulging muscles strained against his shirt as he yanked Jimmy up, his face twisted in anger. Another man stood near the door, his arms crossed and a smug look on his face, but it was the man leaning casually against the window that caught her attention the most.
• He was tall and imposing, with dark hair slicked back and piercing silver eyes that seemed to drink in the scene with amusement. When their eyes met, a cruel smile spread across his lips, sending a chill down her spine.
• “Oh, look,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk, mocking. “She’s right on time. This must be the daughter you mentioned, right, Jimmy?”