After being disowned by her parents, fifteen year old Serena Verlice finds herself in a toxic relationship with a much older man. She undergoes four years of emotional and physical abuse until one day she goes to the doctor and receives a devastatin...
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"Fucking idiot," I mumble under my breath as I climb through the first story window of James's apartment, marvelling at the fact that he left it unlatched.
I pull myself through gracefully, my combat boots landing quietly on the dingy carpet of what looks like a living room.
I pull out my pistol, firmly gripping it as I evaluate my surroundings.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I look around, the apartment being completely empty.
Except for a few scrunched up cans of redbull and some takeout containers there's nothing here.
No sofa, no tv, no fridge. There's not even a light bulb in the socket.
I second guess myself for a minute, wondering if I got the right apartment but I shake the thought away when I remember how I double and even triple checked.
I walk through the desolate room, creeping down the narrow hallway with my gun still in hand. I notice two doors so I approach the one closest to me, slowly placing my ear to the wood.
After pausing for a few moments and not hearing anyone in the room I push the door open, stepping into a tiny bathroom.
My eyes scan the room, drifting from the grimy tap, to the mould growing in all four corners and back to the handle as I close the door.
I start walking down towards the large door at the end of the hallway, only to stop dead in my tracks when I hear a thud from behind it.
My hand grips the gun tighter, my finger wrapping around the cold metal trigger. My steps are calculated as I approach the door, trying to make as little noise as possible.
The sound of shuffling continues from inside the room as I gently place my hand on the rusty handle, slowly pulling it down.
Without warning I ram into the room, aiming my gun as my eyes erratically dart in every direction.
A dog sized rat comes scuttling past my feet, effectively startling me.
I roll my eyes, realising the thuds came from the rodent running around the cluttered room but my annoyance quickly dissipates and is replaced with terror as I finally get a good look at the bedroom.
There's a singular mattress in the corner of the room, a sleeping bag and multiple food wrappers discarded on top.
Next to a window sits a desk, a laptop resting on top.
But what really catches my attention, whilst simultaneously making my blood run cold is hundreds of pictures of Serena plastered over the walls.
Pictures of her changing through a zoomed lens, pictures of her sitting in our car, pictures of her at the hospital, concert and hostel.
My mouth remains agape as I spend what feels like hours staring at the pictures, my mind a whirlwind of anger and concern.
The majority of the pictures are labelled with a date, time and location, meaning James has been tracking her every move.
