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Run. Just run. Before they lock you up again."
Sophia's lungs burned as she stumbled down the cracked sidewalk, her bare feet scraping against the rough concrete. Her thin summer dress stuck to her skin, damp with sweat and tears she refused to let fall. The taste of freedom was metallic fear, blood, and desperate hope all mixed on her tongue.
Behind her, the Stone mansion's iron gates loomed in her mind like prison bars. She could still hear Ava's fake sobs echoing in her ears "Daddy, she's trying to steal from us. She wants to take Grandma away. She doesn't love this family."
Lies.
Every word a lie.
But no one cared to see the truth.
Sophia clutched the small bag pressed to her chest - a single battered sketchbook, a half-empty wallet, her grandmother's silver hairpin. That was all she could take. Everything else her paintings, her name, her freedom was already theirs.
A shout carried through the warm California night. Car doors slammed shut somewhere up the street. John. He'd betrayed her too. He'd promised he loved her, promised they'd run away together. Instead, he told Ava everything.
"I thought it was just a misunderstanding, baby..." His excuse still replayed like poison.
Sophia ducked into a narrow alley between two old buildings. Her breathing came in shallow gasps as she pressed her back against the brick wall, praying the shadows would hide her. If they caught her now, they'd drag her back and this time they'd lock the door for good or worse. She'd heard Ava whisper about a rich old man. About selling her off like she was a painting to be signed and framed.
No. I'd rather die than go back.
She sank to the ground, knees drawn to her chest. Her fingers traced the butterfly birthmark on her collarbone the only piece of herself no one could steal.
Somewhere deep inside, a little girl's voice echoed: "Someone will come for you. Someone will find you."
She almost laughed at how childish that sounded now. She was alone. She had always been alone.
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