The rain was relentless, hammering against the pavement as Grace stumbled out of the hospital. The storm wrapped around her like an unyielding embrace, soaking through her dress .The cold droplets mixed with the warmth of her tears, streaming down her face as she gasped for breath.She walked aimlessly, her body ached, her legs barely carrying her forward, but the pain in her chest was far worse than the sting of her wounds. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, and then, unable to hold it in any longer, she screamed into the storm.
The raw cry was, vanished into the roar of the rain, swallowed by the downpour, lost to the indifferent city.
Grace didn't know how long she stood there, Time seemed to stretch and blur together, her body trembling under the weight of her emotions, but eventually, her legs moved on their own. She walked. One foot in front of the other,each one a small rebellion against the despair threatening to drown her, the cold seeping into her bones, her clothes clinging to her like a second skin. By the time she reached home, her steps were sluggish, exhaustion draping over her like a suffocating shroud.
The maid, Maria, gasped when she saw her. "Miss Grace! Oh my—! You're drenched! And your—" Her eyes widened in horror ,her voice faltered when her eyes fell on the crimson stains trailing along the hem of Grace's soaked dress. "Stay right there, I'll get a towel and the first aid kit—"
But when Maria returned, arms full, Grace was gone.
She found her in the bathroom,the sound of the shower filled the air, and steam billowed out in waves.Grace was standing under an ice-cold shower, her hands pressed against the wall, head bowed as silent sobs wracked her body. Silent sobs wracked her body, though the cold numbed her both inside and out.Water mixed with blood as it swirled down the drain. The sting of her wounds was unbearable, but she embraced it. If only this pain could wash away the rest.
Even Maria felt the depth of Grace's sorrow—a sorrow that had been etched into every corner of her life over the years. She didn't need an explanation; she knew. She had been a silent witness to the unspoken tragedies in this house, a keeper of truths she was powerless to change. And in her silence, Maria felt like a monster too, complicit in the suffering she could do nothing to stop.
She thought back to the little girl Grace had once been—just eight years old, sitting alone on the grand staircase. Maria had watched from the shadows as Grace wiped her tears, tiny hands trembling with the weight of rejection. There was something so fragile about her back then, something vulnerable that had stirred an ache in Maria's chest. Yet, Maria remained quiet, bound by the invisible chains of her position. What could she do? She was powerless against the towering storm of Grace's father.
That day had marked a shift, one Maria could never forget. She had watched Grace change drastically in the years that followed. The child who once yearned for her father's love had vanished completely. It was as if she had died there, on the staircase, her small body curled in grief as the house's silence swallowed her whole.
Grace hadn't truly grown into who she was now—she had been reborn. Reborn in the aftermath of those tears, forged from pain and hardened into something unbreakable. Her softness had been replaced by resolve, her yearning erased by bitter acceptance. Maria saw it every time she looked at Grace now—an elegant but guarded woman, carrying the weight of the past like armor.
But Maria could never forget that moment on the staircase. She could still see that little girl when she looked into Grace's eyes, glimpsing the ghost of what had once been. It haunted her—a reminder of all the years she had stayed silent, powerless to shield Grace from the storm that had robbed her of innocence.
Grace let herself stay there, letting the ice-cold water cleanse her—her skin, her mind, everything. The minutes stretched, and her shivering worsened, but she refused to move. If only this pain could erase the rest.
She stayed there for an hour, until she was numb—inside and out. When she finally stepped out, shivering and pale, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A ghost stared back. Her hair clung to her face, and dark circles had bloomed under her eyes like bruises of their own. Slowly, she lifted her fingers to the red and purple marks along her arms, the unmistakable evidence of her father's wrath.
Her father's voice echoed in her head. You bitch. Her lips trembled, and she let out a bitter laugh. "You pathetic little thing," she whispered to her reflection, her voice cold and brittle. Her lips trembled, and she turned away, unable to stomach the sight of herself any longer. She wrapped a towel loosely around her shoulders and stumbled toward her bedroom.. Then, she turned away, climbed into bed without treating her wounds, and let the darkness swallow her whole.
Without tending to her wounds, without even drying properly, Grace collapsed onto the bed. Her body ached in ways she couldn't describe, but the weight of her exhaustion was greater. She let the darkness engulf her, letting the storm outside lull her into fitful sleep.
Another storm was waiting for her to come in the morning.A intense meeting of a predator and prey. She could already feel the horror of that disaster. But there was nothing she could do to prevent it ....