Chapter 2: Sofia

I wake up to the faint glow of morning light seeping through the thin curtains. My alarm didn’t go off yet, but I know it’s almost time to leave. I stretch, feeling the soreness in my cheek where my mother’s hand landed last night, and I remind myself that I need to keep quiet, keep out of the way. I slide out of bed, careful not to make any noise, and tiptoe across the cold floorboards to the door.

The house is silent, and for a moment, I’m relieved. If I’m quick, I can slip out before they wake up. I pad down the hallway to the kitchen, opening the fridge as quietly as possible. There’s some leftover bread and an apple that doesn’t look too bruised, so I grab them and head back to my room, munching on the bread as I change into my work clothes. Black pants, a plain white shirt, and my nametag. It’s not much, but it’s all I need to blend in at the coffee shop.

I finish the apple on my way out, shutting the door softly behind me. The cool morning air hits my face, waking me up fully as I make my way down the empty street. It’s early enough that I don’t pass anyone, and for a few minutes, I can almost pretend that I’m just another girl heading to work, that I have a normal life waiting for me when I get there.

The coffee shop is already buzzing when I arrive. I step inside and head straight to the back to clock in, tying my apron around my waist as I grab a notepad and head to the counter. It’s the usual morning rush—people coming in for their caffeine fix before they head off to wherever they need to be. I go through the motions, taking orders, smiling when I need to, and dodging the occasional complaint from someone who thinks their latte isn’t hot enough.

“Morning, Sofia,” my boss says as he slides past me, holding a tray of pastries. He’s a tall guy, always smiling, with a bit of a dad vibe. He hands me a small envelope, and I recognize it immediately. My paycheck.

“Thanks,” I say, slipping it into my pocket. It’s not much, barely enough to cover a week’s worth of groceries, but I’ll add it to the stash I’ve been saving. It’s my little secret, tucked away in a shoe box under my bed, a slow-growing promise of escape. One day, it’ll be enough to get me out of here.

The morning passes in a blur of orders and quick exchanges. One older woman, a regular, gives me a knowing smile as she orders her black coffee. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, dear,” she says, and I can’t help but smile back, even if her words sting a little. If only she knew how far from the truth that felt.

As the shift winds down, I head to the back to change. I pull off my work clothes and slip into a pair of worn jeans, a tight white camisole, and a cardigan. I check my reflection in the small mirror, smoothing my curls back into a high ponytail, the way I like them when I’m outside. I pull out a tube of mascara and carefully brush it over my lashes, then swipe on some lip gloss, feeling a bit more like myself.

I rarely wear makeup at home. It’s better to look plain, to avoid drawing attention. The less attractive I am, the less likely they’ll be able to pawn me off on some sleazy man with too much money and no morals. But here, out in the world, I allow myself a little bit of brightness. Just enough to remind myself that I’m still a person, that I can still have moments where I feel like I belong to myself.

I fold my work clothes into my bag and grab my books, tucking them under my arm as I step out of the shop. The street is busier now, people hurrying by, each lost in their own world. I join the crowd, slipping into the stream of students heading toward campus. For now, I’m just another face in the sea of people, another girl with a destination. And if I keep my head down and move quickly, maybe—just maybe—I’ll make it out of this place for good.

The campus comes into view as I round the corner, its stone buildings stretching up into the brightening sky. There’s a mix of old and new architecture here—tall, ivy-covered buildings that have been standing for decades, alongside sleek, modern glass structures that gleam in the morning sun. The main courtyard is bustling, students milling around, some with their noses buried in textbooks, others laughing and catching up with friends. I blend into the crowd, making my way toward the steps that lead to the library.

As I’m about to head inside, I notice a girl standing by the entrance, looking a little lost. She’s clutching a campus map in one hand and her phone in the other, her brow furrowed as she glances around. I hesitate for a second, then decide to approach her.

“Hey, are you looking for something?” I ask, offering a small smile.

She looks up, visibly relieved. “Oh, thank goodness! Yeah, I’m trying to find the arts building. It’s my first week here, and I have zero idea where anything is.” She laughs, a light, musical sound, and I can’t help but smile a bit wider.

“It’s actually just over there.” I point past the library toward a brick building with a wide, arching doorway. “Just take that path and head to the right. You’ll see it.”

She nods, tucking her map away. “Thanks! I’m pretty hopeless with directions.” She tilts her head, studying me for a moment. “Are you a freshman too?”

“Yeah, but I’ve been here since the start of the semester, so I’ve had some time to figure things out,” I say, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

She grins. “I hope so. I’m Avery, by the way.”

“Sofia,” I reply, and we shake hands briefly. Avery has an easygoing vibe, and I find myself relaxing a bit, the usual tension in my shoulders easing as we chat.

“So, Sofia, are you into art?” she asks, glancing toward the arts building.

“Not really. I’m studying literature. I just… like getting lost in stories, I guess.” I shrug, a little embarrassed. It’s rare for me to talk about myself with anyone, and the words feel strange coming out.

“Ah, a fellow bookworm! I’m in the right company then.” Avery beams, nudging me playfully. “I’m actually here for visual arts, but I love reading too. Maybe you can recommend something to me sometime?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I say, surprised at how easy the words come. It’s not often I meet someone who doesn’t make me feel on edge. There’s a lightness to Avery, something that makes me almost forget what’s waiting for me back home.

We chat a bit more, veering into light topics—favorite coffee orders, weekend plans, the quirks of professors we’ve encountered so far. I find myself laughing at her story about getting lost in the science building, thinking it was the gym. She’s funny, and I feel like I can actually relax, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“Well, I should get going,” she says finally, glancing at her watch. “Thank you so much for helping me out. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I reply, meaning it. She gives a little wave, and I watch as she disappears down the path toward her class, her black hair swinging behind her.

I turn and make my way to my own class, feeling a little lighter than I did before. For once, there’s a small flicker of something warm in my chest—hope, maybe, or just the relief of having a normal conversation, even if it was brief. It’s a reminder that there’s a world outside my own, one that’s full of possibilities. And for now, that’s enough to keep me going.