I exhaled sharply, relief washing over me in waves but quickly followed by a sense of emptiness. The tension left my shoulders; it felt almost surreal. I took a moment to collect myself before my gaze drifted back to the shattered mirror reflecting a fragmented version of me.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. Those were luxuries I could no longer afford. Instead, I just stood there—my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum beating out a rhythm of defiance mixed with dread.
The shards glimmered under the harsh light, each piece showing a different angle of my face twisted with fury and fear. A ghost of the girl I used to be flickered in the reflections—strong yet vulnerable, wild yet caged.
With every breath, reality crashed back in around me; this wasn’t just about broken glass or an impulsive act of insanity. This was about control—the kind Hades wielded effortlessly over everything and everyone in his life.
I gripped the edge of the dresser until my knuckles turned white, grounding myself against that suffocating truth. He’d taken everything from me: freedom, choices, even my family’s trust.
But more than that?
He was playing a game—and it seemed I had stepped right into it without knowing the rules.
And Hades Sinclair never lost.
I fumbled for my phone, heart racing as I scrolled through my contacts. Callista's name glared back at me, some kind of hope through all of this suffering my life had turned into. Maybe there was a misunderstanding—maybe she had simply lost track of time. There was no way she would stay away after hearing what had happened to me. No way.
I pressed her name, bringing the phone to my ear, each ring echoing like a countdown in my mind. I held my breath with each tone, willing her to pick up.
“Come on, Callie,” I whispered under my breath. “Please.”
But it went to voicemail. My stomach dropped as I listened to her cheerful voice—so full of life, so unlike this dark reality I found myself trapped in.
“Hey! You’ve reached Callista Moore! Leave a message!”
I hung up before the beep could sound. Frustration boiled inside me like molten lava. I tried again, my fingers shaking as I tapped the screen.
Callista, it’s me. Please pick up.
I could almost picture her at some glamorous event, surrounded by laughter and smiles while I rotted in this prison built by Hades' hand. It felt cruel to imagine her living life without even a thought of me.
The phone rang again, but it fell silent too soon—no answer, just empty echoes that mocked my desperation. A part of me wanted to scream into the void; another part felt like crying for the sister who always knew how to fix everything but had vanished when I needed her most.
What if she didn’t want to come back? What if she didn’t care?
A tight knot formed in my chest at the thought of losing her—not just as my sister but as my ally against this nightmare that enveloped us both.
I tossed the phone onto the bed, frustration clawing at me until all I could hear was the thudding pulse of silence surrounding me. No, I told myself fiercely. She wouldn’t abandon me.
But deep down, uncertainty gnawed at my insides like an insatiable beast.
Where are you, Callista?
I stepped back, my heart racing as I surveyed the shards scattered across the floor. But in my haste, I miscalculated and stepped right on a jagged piece of glass. A sharp pain shot through my foot, and I winced, feeling the sting radiate up my leg.
I glanced down to see a thin line of crimson seeping from the cut, trickling down to mix with the remnants of the shattered perfume bottle. My breath hitched for a moment as I stared at the blood—a stark contrast against the pale tile.
But honestly? The physical pain helped ground me. It anchored me to reality, a reminder that I could still feel something, even if it was just pain.
It actually felt… good.
I took a steadying breath and grabbed a nearby towel from the dresser. I pressed it against my foot, wincing again as the fabric brushed against the cut. Blood soaked through quickly, but I forced myself to focus on cleaning up the mess instead of getting lost in despair.
Carefully, I bent down and began gathering pieces of glass one by one. Each shard felt like an extension of my frustration—the way they sparkled defiantly reminded me that I’d broken something important today. My fingers trembled slightly as I worked, but it wasn’t just fear; it was determination coursing through me.
With every piece I picked up, I felt a surge of defiance rising within me—each shard removed felt like reclaiming a small part of myself that Hades thought he could control. This was my space now; this was my rebellion against everything he represented.
The sharp edges dug into my skin as I continued collecting remnants from the floor. Each time they pricked at me, sending another jolt of pain shooting up through my fingertips, it only reinforced my resolve to fight back against this oppressive darkness closing in around me.
