The day Seraphina left for Siren training was a patchwork of moments, stitched together by the ache that settled in my chest. It wasn't just a day—it was the end of an era, and I could feel it slipping through my fingers like sand. I stood in the crowded hall of the orphanage, clutching her hand as if holding on tighter might somehow keep her with me. The bustle of people, the hum of chatter, it all became background noise, like waves crashing against a distant shore. My world had narrowed to the warmth of her hand in mine, the curve of her smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, the way her breath hitched when she spoke.
"Eleri, it's going to be okay," she said, her voice carrying the familiar comfort it always did, but this time there was a crack in it, a tremor that made my heart seize. She was trying to be strong for me, but we both knew this wasn't something either of us could really be ready for.
I nodded, but the lump in my throat was too thick, too painful to let me speak. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped a vice around my ribs. I wanted to scream, to beg her not to go, but all I could do was stand there, paralyzed by the weight of what was happening. The door behind her swung open, and for a second, the outside world seemed too bright, too overwhelming. When she stepped through it, it felt like she was taking a piece of me with her. The door clicked shut, and with it, my world dimmed.
I was alone. Not in the literal sense—people still milled about, the orphanage was still alive with noise—but inside, I felt hollow, a shell of who I was before. Seraphina had been my anchor, the one constant in the chaos of our lives, and now she was gone.
Days passed, and without her, life blurred into a monotonous haze. I threw myself into vampire training, trying to escape the gnawing emptiness that had settled in my bones. I trained until my muscles ached, until exhaustion dragged me to bed each night, hoping that sleep would offer an escape from the thoughts that circled endlessly in my mind. But it didn't. Every night, as I lay in the darkness, the memories of her would rise like ghosts, haunting me, filling my mind with the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her smile.
I turned my room into a shrine to her—pictures taped to the walls, mementos from our time together scattered on my desk, anything to keep her close. It wasn't enough. Her absence was a constant presence, a shadow that followed me everywhere. No matter what I did, I couldn't escape the ache that had settled in my chest.
One evening, I found myself sitting at my desk, staring down at a blank piece of paper. I had started writing letters to her, letters I knew she might never read, but I needed to feel like I was still connected to her in some way. I picked up the pen and began to write.
Seraphina,
I don't even know where to start. I miss you so much it hurts. It's like there's this part of me that's missing, and no matter what I do, I can't fill it. I keep telling myself that you'll come back, that things will go back to how they were, but deep down, I know that's not true.
I keep thinking about the way your laugh used to fill the room, the way your smile could make everything seem okay, even when it wasn't. I miss that. I miss *you*. I just want you to know that I haven't forgotten you, and I don't think I ever will.
Yours always,
Eleri
As I folded the letter, tears blurred my vision, and I felt a surge of anger rise in my chest. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. I wanted to scream, to break something, to somehow make the world understand the loss I felt. But instead, I just sat there, the letter crumpled in my hand, as the tears fell silently.
The anger became a constant companion, simmering just beneath the surface. I couldn't understand why I couldn't let go. Every thought, every action was tied to Seraphina. It wasn't just grief—it was something darker, something more consuming. I told myself it was just a phase, that I was just missing her, but deep down I knew the truth. It was more than that. It was an obsession, one that had taken root deep inside me and refused to let go.
Each day, I found myself waiting—waiting for a letter, for some sign that she hadn't forgotten me, that she still thought about me. But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and still, there was nothing. The silence was suffocating, and with every passing day, I felt her slipping further and further away from me.
The weight of it all pressed down on me, heavier than I could bear. One night, as I sat alone in the dim light of my room, the emptiness inside me felt too much to handle. I slammed my fist against the wall, the pain in my hand a welcome distraction from the deeper ache in my heart. The tears came, hot and furious, and I sank to the floor, my body shaking with sobs. I felt helpless, like I was drowning in a sea of emotions I couldn't control.
The weeks stretched into months, and still, the void she left behind lingered. I heard snippets of her life—how she was excelling in her training, how she was growing stronger, more confident. I wanted to be happy for her, but each piece of news felt like a knife to the heart. It was a reminder that she was moving on, growing, while I was still stuck, trapped in the past.
I wrote more letters, sent more messages, but they all went unanswered. The silence grew louder, more unbearable, and I began to wonder if I had ever really known her at all. My heart ached with a longing that I couldn't shake, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move on.