THE PLAN UNFOLDS.

SERAPHINA'S POINT OF VIEW. Pacing, I walked the length of the corridor, as my fake father lounged lazily on the armchair. I fix him with a glare as he watches me with a mischievous grin in his eyes. "Do not look at me like that." I spit, my teeth clenched, as I fix him a death glare, but he smirks and says while running his hands through his hair. "Oh, please, I have never seen you so worked up over anything in forever. The last time something bothered you so much, you were in the fifth grade. And it was over some foolish boy in school. You liked him, and he humiliated you in front of his friends, so we egged his house that night; of course, without your father's knowledge." He chuckles. "Lord knows your father would have my head if I got you to that so young." The thought of that memory makes me laugh, as images flood my mind. I think I was about twelve or thirteen, and the boy's name was Jason. I liked him, for some reason, because thinking about it now, I realise he was nothing spec