There was a strange stillness in the air, a stillness that preceded the calm before a storm.

Saffron could taste the wrongness in the air even as she wiped the kitchen table clean, just like she had dutifully done since she was nine years old.

The silence in the house unnerved her and made her look twice at certain corners, as if expecting someone to jump out at any second and disturb this lackluster peace that had enveloped them.

Trepidation filled her every pore, but on the outside, she was as calm and levelheaded as was imaginable.

A glance at her father—James Kessler—sitting in the same position for the last three hours had another bout of anxious energy rippling through her.

He was as still as a corpse, staring unseeingly at the peeling black and green wallpaper of their sitting room.

“Daddy?” she called out as she dropped the rag she held on the table and walked into the living room, sidestepping shards of a broken beer bottle which he must have dropped earlier today.

There was a calmness in her voice, calmness that certainly wasn’t supposed to be present at this moment.

She felt like her voice should be shaky or hysterical even, but instead, it was cold and unemotional.

It wasn’t the first time she caught him staring off into space. But something about his sitting position today had her checking up on him.

The way he sat with his shoulders hunched over, his shaggy brown hair obscuring half of his face from her—as if he were hiding from the shame of not being the father that she deserved—had her feeling somewhat ashamed over her lack of reaction.

“Daddy?” she called out again as she reached his side, the light from the lit candles casting a shadowy glow on his face, highlighting the sunken pallor of his cheeks.

When all she got as a response was the slight raise of his chin and an apology in his dead blue eyes, Saffron knew that whatever was coming, she wasn’t ready for it, nor was she going to like it.

Only seven days left before she turned eighteen, the only obstacles now standing between her life here and the life she had envisioned for herself without her deadbeat father. Seven more days and she would no longer have to pretend.

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked, even though she knew he wouldn’t respond to her. “There’s leftover spaghetti and meatballs from last night. I could heat it up for you if you’d like.”

As she made to go back to her chores in the kitchen when he didn’t respond, his hand shot out to grab hers in a strong grip, stopping her in her tracks.

“You want me to stay?” she asked slowly, as his grip tightened to the point of pain.

The apology in his eyes once again sent a spike of fear right through her heart. For all his faults and misdoings, James Kessler had never so much as been apologetic nor looked bothered or felt remorseful.

So, whatever he had done or whatever was coming, it had to be big and unforgivable to evoke such reactions from him.

“What have you done, Daddy?” she asked in a monotone, even as fear darkened the edges of her vision and made her knees lock up.

“Forgive me, Saffron,” he croaked, finally releasing his tight grip on her. “I’m sorry.”

A gust of air puffed out of her lips, the only outward reaction to his words. Red clouded her vision, her mind racing a mile a minute as she tried to make sense of his apology.

“What have you done?” she asked again, this time her voice a harsh whisper that had him jerking in his seat before he hunched over, curling into himself, as he apologized over and over again.

Outside, a storm raged on, the clap of thunder drowning out the pitiful apologies spilling from his lips.

It was as though the sky was willing to open up and share this moment with her.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, Saffron moved sluggishly into the kitchen, heading straight towards one of the cupboards with laser focus, muttering please be there, over and over, as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

When she pulled aside the empty boxes of cereal she kept as cover for what laid hidden there only to find an empty space awaiting her, her heart splintered all over again.

Why? She wanted to ask as she turned towards her father, tears streaming down her face, but only a gasp left her lips.

Her hands trembled, her body shaking with the force of her silent sobs as she stared at her father, the man who was supposed to provide for her, yet kept taking and taking so much from her, draining her.

And now, he had taken the last shred of hope that she had for a new life. All her life savings, all her dreams gone in just a blink of an eye.

Seven more days, the voice in her head soothed.

Yeah, what good are the seven days now when I have nothing? She scoffed at the voice, feeling like she was starting to lose it as tears rolled down her cheeks.

You will be free, Saffron, the voice whispered back.

Not now, please, she whispered back brokenly as she fell to her knees, no longer caring about the shards of beer bottle littering the floor or the cuts she was likely to get.

“I’m so sorry, Saffron.” She heard her father’s voice once again, through the roaring in her ears. “Please forgive me.”

“I hate you,” she spat, with all the pent-up resentment she could muster.

“Saff…”

“Don’t you dare,” she growled, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she added weakly, as another sob left her lips.

The loud squealing of tires and heavy footsteps riding along with the clap of thunder interrupted them.

As one, they both turned their heads towards the door with varying shades of emotions—Saffron with fear and curiosity, and James with resolute acceptance mixed with sorrow.

The doorknob jiggled for a bit, and like a scene from a horror movie, both Saffron and her father were frozen on the spot, their eyes fixed on the door.

The door opened with a loud bang, startling Saffron into action as she ran towards the cupboard, wanting to arm herself against the intruder.

But the men who strode into the house had her abandoning her quest, as true horror gripped her insides.

Her gaze found her father’s and the acceptance in them had her gripping the table as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

“Take her!” one of the men growled, as he pointed at Saffron who remained as still as a statue.

“No! Please!” she begged, moving backwards, tears now streaming down her face in earnest.

“Do something!” she screamed at her father, as two of the men grabbed at her, stuffing a bag over her head and muffling her screams, while he sat on his recliner watching, without so much as a word.