Chapter Text
Sephy was, what, twelve? Thirteen? When it happened for the first time.
She wasn't allowed out of the house. Her mother never let her, not even to see the pretty girl across the street who'd play with her older brothers and throw her little sisters around, the one with those thick black curls and those icy blue eyes. Sephy wasn't supposed to like girls, apparently. Didn't make Helena any less stunning, in her torn up jeans and chunky boots and big leather jackets, only two years older than Sephy.
There was an exit to the house, one that was always available. Between the thick hedges of her mama's massive garden, where she spent more time than she'd ever spent with Sephy, was a little gate that Sephy was big enough to clamber over now. She was like a little shadow, in those days, running from place-to-place, afraid of the world but desperate to see it all. There was a park near her home, with a swing-set that Sephy loved. Her dada used to take her to the park, but since he and mama had gotten that nasty divorce and mama started refusing to talk to Sephy,
"It's your fault he left, damnit! Good girls don't run off, good girls don't piss off their Mothers! I can't even look at you, Persephone."
she hadn't been able to go. Until she found the exit. Sephy started spending most of her nights in the park, kicking herself on the swings in her torn up sneakers, hands gripping the chains, body ready to bolt at the slightest rustle of leaves. But it was fun!
Until it wasn't.
Sephy'd been sat on the swings, kicking herself, limbs finally relaxing in the cold chill of Brooklyn Heights. And then she'd heard a voice.
"Kiddo? What're you doing so far out, huh?" She'd startled, jumping off the swings and stumbling back, nearly falling. There'd been a man there, younger than mama, but with greys still streaking at his temples. His hair was neat, and clean- something Sephy hadn't experienced for herself in weeks. Mama didn't let her use her shampoo, so Sephy just had to scrub her scalp real hard with hand soap in the bathroom sink.
"I- Uh-"
"Shh, shh, hey... it's okay." The man knelt down to Sephy's level, which honestly wasn't far. She was getting big now! She was almost the same height as her mama, which was way taller than the other girls in her class, and even taller than most of the boys. "I just wanna check in on you, pretty girl."
Huh. Sephy blinked. Nobody had called Sephy pretty since her dada, when he'd tie her hair into the two braids she misses wearing and would get her ready for school. Sure, she'd heard whispers from other kids on her appearance, but most if them said she was skittish or too scrawny or too tall. It left a bad taste in her mouth.
"I'm just. Out. Y'know. Park stuff." Sephy wanted to bury her face in her hands. Why was she like this? So bad at talking. She wanted to run, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to go, shifting on the balls of her feet.
"Uh-huh... and do your parents know you're here?" A hand came out to brush at Sephy's tattered curls, and she just barely stopped herself from darting. She cleared her throat and shrugged.
"Mama doesn't care, 'n dada's moved way far." She shouldn't be telling an adult this, part of Sephy's mind yelled at her. Last time she'd brought up anything like this, her teachers had thrown around the words 'Foster Home' and 'CPS'. But the man didn't seem to be upset, in fact, he smiled. It was toothy, and sharp in a way that made her insides churn. In a bad way. Sephy didn't really trust this.
"I thought so... such a pretty girl like you shouldn't be left around here alone. There are some bad people this time at night, you know."
Of course she knew. Sephy wasn't dumb. She'd seen the news, heard stuff from kids in her classes. Girls who went at night and never came back, or the ones who did and weren't the same. But she didn't say that. So she just wrung her hands and nodded.
"You should get inside somewhere warm. Why don't you come with me, pretty girl? I've got food at home, a bath, too, anything you want."
Sephy should've agreed. Really! The idea sounded good. The man was nice, his hands were soft where they brushed her hair from her forehead, and she hadn't eaten something that wasn't a snack food in weeks. Nor had she had a bath in years. She should've agreed and went with the man, took his hand, and been safe.
But then she saw the look in his eyes. Sephy knew that look. Her biology teacher had talked about how humans are predator animals, because their eyes are on the front of their head and not on the sides. But there's other characteristics to a predator. Not just the animal. His pupils were slightly wider than they should've been, not unnaturally, but enough to set Sephy off. His teeth were glimpsing in his smile, and that- that smile was dangerous. That's the smile that men give the girls that don't come home. That's the look that would get her a death sentence. And Sephy wouldn't die. She couldn't die before she got out of Brooklyn Heights, she couldn't die before she got free.
It's predator and prey. A predator will stalk a thousand miles to find their prey, but that doesn't mean the prey won't win. Sephy is scrawny, wiry and thin, and sure, her stamina's nothing much, but she was lanky and knew how to handle herself.
Teeth close down on the man's hand, and he yelled. She dug her teeth in till she tasted blood, and then ran.
Torn, faded sneakers slammed against the ground, crossing from gravel paths to grassy grounds to tarmac roads. Sephy didn't stop. She didn't know if he was still there, but she didn't stop moving. Run, run, run. Sephy had to run, she had to get out, running was the only thing that kept her alive. She was a smart kid, and she'd win. Predator on prey, but the prey would survive, the deer outran the wolf.
Sephy turned a sharp corner and then threw her body over the fence, scrambling to stand before she slammed her back against the hedges, heaving. Sephy didn't think she can could get back in the house without alerting her mama, so she slumped against the ground, head between her knees, hands over her ears.
She woke up to the dawn. Alive. With only one thought.
Sephy was really sick of running.