SERAPHINA
Oliver led me down the wide stairs, one hand pressed to the small of my back like I was some precious thing he was guiding gently toward slaughter before I could escape. Maybe it was why he called me little lamb. Helpless and easy to control and do whatever they seemed to want. And I hated myself for being this weak.
As we reached the landing my eyes travelled around the room, to my right was a hallway leading to a den and a backyard with the pool. And in front of me was the living room with the French windows on the right that looked outside to the woods, in the middle the couch and a loveseat dominated the space with a small fireplace in center of the opposite wall above which there were several photographs of the three of them, giving this place a personal touch. And on the
