The prey

I was tired, so tired I couldn't even lift a finger. My back was screaming at me for being a superwoman last night and my buttocks were sore. God damnit! Not even a week and I already wanted to go back.

Lord knew why I decided to be a saviour when I knew I was a blind owl. Couldn't even see without those four-eyes enhancers aka glasses, and now, not only was I left with a broken elbow and sprained foot, but broken glasses too. I got them fixed before moving to Russia, and now it'd take another sum of money to repair them. Great. Looks like my clumsy heroics come with a price tag – and not the discounted kind. Brilliant. Now I'm not just Seraphina, I'm Seraphina, the Walking Disaster.

"You up, Dorogaya?" She walked through the bathroom door wearing nothing but a towel. I quickly averted my eyes, feeling my cheeks warming. Despite the Russian cold, Alina preferred wearing less clothes than a sunbathing lizard. "Had breakfast?"

I continued packing my bag in a hurry, realizing I had less than twenty minutes left for class. "I don't have enough time to rush to the cafeteria," I muttered to myself, grabbing the assignments before stuffing them into the bag with the finesse of a squirrel cramming nuts into its cheeks.

Pens? Check. Identity card? Check. Why do I feel like I was missing something? Maybe it's my invisible cloak for those embarrassing moments. Oh wait, that's just wishful thinking. But seriously, what else could it be? Did I forget to pack my pet rock? My lucky underwear? My emergency stash of chocolate? Nope, they'd stay in here.

Ah well, if I was missing something, it'd just have to join the ranks of the lost socks in the laundry basket.

"Have some coffee before you leave, okay?" I looked over my shoulder as she extended the coffee mug, our eyes meeting.

"Thanks," I muttered grabbing the cup, her fingers brushed against mine and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful and soft her hands were.

"No problem," she winked, sauntering away to blow dry her hair, leaving me standing there like a startled flamingo. "You can help me with assignments later though," she added over her shoulder.

I took gulps of the coffee, twisting my mouth at the strong taste, feeling like I'd just ingested a liquid form of rocket fuel. Well, at least it matched the intensity of my impending panic attack at the thought of helping her with assignments. Great, just what I needed – a double shot of caffeine and anxiety. Cheers to my glamorous life!

Even without makeup, she looked beautiful. Her dark charcoal eyes looked at me through the mirror as she blow-dried her hair. "...Of course..." Why did she have to look like a goddess while I resembled a potato caught in a rainstorm? Life really wasn't fair sometimes.

"Are you free this Friday; we can hit the club or go to a bar, what are your thoughts?"

Trust me, nothing was more blissful than hitting the club, getting drunk, forgetting all the problems even if it was for just one night, and being the cool girl. Having a group of friends to chill around, having cute coffee dates, going on shopping sprees, falling in love, having my heart broken, then finding another boy, being the girl everyone desired to be.

But I neither had time nor money to be that girl.

"No, I need to get this assignment ready by this week."

I always watched those girls with a mixture of envy and resignation. Their lives seemed so effortless, like a dance they had mastered while I struggled just to stay on my feet. I wasn't saying I'm different from other girls, not in a way that implies superiority or some unique struggle. No, I was like most girls, the ones who didn't struggle to live but lived to struggle.

The luxury of carefree moments and spontaneous fun wasn't part of my reality. Bills needed paying, responsibilities demanded attention, and dreams were often put on hold indefinitely.

"You're so boring, but I like you." I managed a small smile and resumed packing my bag.

Alina hummed some song as she styled her hair. And the void in my chest deepened.

It wasn't that I didn't want those things – the laughter, the freedom, the sense of belonging. I craved them as much as anyone else. But life had a way of pulling me back to the ground, reminding me that my journey was different. I had to work twice as hard for half as much, and sometimes, it felt like I was running a race I could never win.

During high school, I had a decent amount of friends. We shared laughter, secrets, and dreams of the future, thinking nothing could tear us apart. But as I grew older, we parted ways. Or perhaps it was when I lost my father that they realized I didn't have money to spend on outings and frivolous activities anymore. Gradually, they drifted away, their absence as silent as the void that filled my life after my father's death.

I lost contact with them soon after that. My father's passing was a blow that shattered our family, both emotionally and financially. The weight of the world seemed to fall upon my mother's shoulders, and as the eldest child, I felt an overwhelming guilt. I should have been able to do more, to protect and support her. So, I took on my first part-time job at a nearby cleaning station, working long hours for eleven months. I felt so proud the day I handed over my saved money to my mother. But the pride was fleeting. The money I gave her was only one-fourth of the amount we needed for rent yearly. That day, I realized that no matter how hard you work, it won't be appreciated unless it meets certain expectations.

The problem was that I wanted to be the man of the house for my mother. I wanted to lessen her burdens, to give her a home of our own, and to hire someone to help with the chores so she wouldn't have to exhaust herself every day. I wanted her to rely on me, not the other way around.

Her tears became unbearable for me to see. She cried herself to sleep every night, tormented by the uncertainty of how she'd pay our next month's bills. That uncertainty, that gnawing fear, I wanted to take it away.

I learned to become self-reliant. I became so used to doing things by myself.

I grabbed my jacket throwing it over my fleece sweater and jeans. Trying not to think about Texas, I hurriedly grasped my bag and was about to rush through the doors when I remembered.

My lip gloss.

No matter how poor I get, I would never do the sin of forgetting my lip balm. Even if I was to die today, I'd rather die with moisturised lips than chapped ones.

Alina waved. "Bye, Bye, Серафима,"

Applying a thick layer over my lips, I smacked them together before rushing down. Shit, I was going to be late.

******

By the time I limped through the hallways towards my class, I was so tired and already wanted to go home. Home. A bittersweet ache settled in my chest. There'd be no home for the next two years.

It had been only two days since I'd arrived in Russia. The next half hour was spent in a blur. Whatever she was saying, I couldn't follow. Maybe it was the language barrier, or maybe it was knowing that, at the end of the day, I'd have to study these topics by myself. I'd probably spend hours in the library gathering material so I don't fail this term.

I'd proudly say I was not an academic student; I was the average one who swayed between scoring regular marks or touching the maximum bar, depending on my interest in the subject. And this particular subject, genetics—I hated it. Not because it had mathematical equations in it, but because I couldn't cram it.

Finding peace in the confines of the backbenches, I sat on the empty seat I could find. The next professor was twenty minutes late, and till then I made a mental note to stroll through the streets of Moscow this evening to hunt for a part-time job.

The students around me were chattering, their voices a mix of excitement and laughter, making me feel like an outcast. Friends gathered in tight groups, sharing jokes, gossiping, and planning their weekends. Their easy camaraderie highlighted my solitude.

To my left, a girl with bright red hair talked about her latest date, her friends hanging on every word, their giggles ringing out. On my right, a group of boys debated last night's football game.

I clutched my books closer, feeling the sharp sting of being ignored. The bench seemed to shrink beneath me, the gap between me and everyone else growing wider. I tried to focus on my book, but the words blurred, drowned out by the life around me.

A few feet away, Alina stood with her friends. She was the centre of attention, her dark eyes bright with laughter. For a moment, she looked my way and smiled, a brief connection that warmed me. But then she turned back to her friends, her laughter echoing in the hallway, leaving me in the cold.

I wondered how it felt to have friends, to be someone's priority. Even as a friend.

A sigh left my lips as I plugged in my earphones listening to podcasts and lowered my head on the bench.

"How would you rate your life on a scale of ten, Ms. Polani?"

"It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Oh, you know, the usual factors: coffee availability, the weather, whether or not my favourite show got cancelled again."

"So, what's the score today?"

"Well, considering I spilt coffee on myself this morning, my WiFi is acting up, and someone just spoiled the ending of that book I've been dying to read... let's call it a solid 3."

"A 3? That bad, huh?"

"Hey, I'm being generous. Yesterday was a 2. But then I found a chocolate bar in my desk drawer, so it bumped up a bit."

"Wow, tough crowd. What would make it a 10?"

"A 10? Hmm, let's see... A personal barista, a tropical island, unlimited data, and maybe a unicorn. But honestly, I'd settle for a day without traffic and people who don't ask me to rate my life."

I chuckled. Francesca Polani was one of the only people I could relate to. She's funny, sarcastic, confident and a writer.

"Fair enough. So, what's it like being you, Ms. Polani?"

"Oh, it's a real thrill ride. Imagine a rollercoaster where the safety harness is questionable, the tracks are missing in places, and instead of a safety net, there's a trampoline."

"That sounds... exciting."

"If by exciting you mean "constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown," then yes, it's a hoot."

"So what do you do to cope with the chaos?"

"Well, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I binge-watch cat videos, perform dramatic readings of my spam emails, and occasionally pretend I'm a majestic potato, just lying there, doing nothing."

"Majestic potato? That's a new one."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it. Sometimes you just need to embrace your inner spud."

"Any other life hacks you'd recommend?"

"Sure, always have a backup stash of chocolate, learn to laugh at the absurdity of it all, and never underestimate the power of a good nap. Oh, and avoid people who ask you to rate your life on a scale of ten, again."

The interviewer laughed with the audience.

I was so immersed in the podcast that I didn't realize the chittering around me had died down, leaving me as clueless as a goldfish trying to solve a Rubik's Cube.

A surprised yelp escaped my lips when someone tapped my shoulder. Completely taken by surprise, I almost threw my arms at the intruder, like a startled octopus trying to defend its territory, only to be caught mid-air by a hand.

The earbuds slowly rolled down my ear, like some reel was playing in slow motion as if they were auditioning for a dramatic entrance in a movie. I slowly looked around to find the whole class pin-drop silent, every pair of eyes assessing me like I was the unexpected protagonist in a low-budget horror flick.

Well, wasn't that just prime calamari?

Ms. Olga's eyes glared down at me, and I... wanted to be anywhere but in the path of her laser-beam gaze. Maybe a quick escape to Narnia or a teleportation to the nearest chocolate factory would do the trick.

"Done with your daydreaming, Ms. Rosewood?" Ms Olga's voice sliced through the silence like a chainsaw through butter.

I snapped back to reality, my cheeks flushing crimson as I fumbled for a response. "I... I am so-"

"Yeah? Careless American blood," she interrupted, her tone dripping with disdain.

The classroom seemed to shrink around me, and I could feel the weight of every eye boring into my soul. My mind raced, desperately searching for a witty comeback or an escape route, but all I could manage was a feeble nod.

Today was definitely not the day I'd win any awards for quick thinking.

I lowered my head, feeling like a scolded puppy as I mumbled, "I'm so sorry," hoping my apology would somehow dissolve the tension hanging in the air like a thick fog. But judging by Ms Olga's unyielding gaze, I might as well have been apologizing to a stone wall.

She let go of my wrist, and I immediately cradled it against my chest. "Next time be mindful,"

I nodded avoiding her gaze as she gave me one last glare and fixed her glasses going straight to the front.

My cheeks burned as the girls sitting opposite my bench snickered, their eyes scanning me up and down with smug amusement. Feeling thoroughly embarrassed, I bent down to grab the earbuds, my hands clumsy with nervousness. Naturally, I managed to drop them again. "For heaven's sake," I muttered under my breath, watching in dismay as one earbud rolled away and came to a stop just a few inches from my reach as if mocking my every move.

Crawling under the bench, I was just about to grab the elusive earbud when a hand beat me to it. Startled, I jolted upright, only to smack my head on the underside of the bench.

"That hurts!" I exclaimed, wincing as I rubbed the sore spot, feeling my face flush even deeper with embarrassment.

"Here," a voice said. I frowned, unsure if he was talking to me, still dazed from my head bump. Just then, I felt someone tugging at my sleeve. Jolting in surprise, I looked down to see a face peering under the table, grinning widely. "Looking for this?" he asked, holding the earbud just out of reach, his expression somewhere between amused and mischievous.

Startled, I blinked a few times, trying to process before reaching out to take the earbud. My fingers brushed his as I retrieved it, and I quickly shoved it into my bag, hoping to avoid any further awkwardness.

"Thank you," I mumbled, trying to sound casual as I sat back up, still rubbing the sore spot on my head.

I held my breath as he scrambled closer.

"Ivan," he said, extending his hand. I glanced at him, then at his hand, as if it were a strange alien artefact I'd never encountered before, before tentatively shaking it as if it might explode. His soft green eyes were as round and bright as a startled owl's, and his wide grin made him look like he'd just won a lifetime supply of cheeseburgers. His features, framed by hair that seemed to have its own gravitational pull, were soft and gentle, making him look more like a confused puppy than a university student.

"Seraphina," I mumbled, my voice barely audible over my internal panic orchestra. Why was he even talking to me in the middle of class?

Please don't talk to me. I'll end up embarrassing myself and then spontaneously combust from the sheer embarrassment.

Just keep it together, Seraphina.

Remember, you're a majestic potato just like Francessca. A majestic, socially awkward potato who's currently failing at human interaction. Keep calm and try not to trip over your breaths.

But to my dismay, he seemed immune to Ms. Olga's glare.

"Exchange student?" he persisted. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly as dry as the Sahara, and resorted to scribbling in my notebook like it held the secrets of the universe. Unfortunately, all that came out was a page full of indecipherable gibberish, which was probably a fitting representation of my current mental state.

"Scholarship," I managed to nod, my voice betraying my nervousness like a traitorous sidekick in a cheesy spy movie.

"Woah, that's cool," he said, his bright eyes gleaming with curiosity, like a kid in a candy store who just discovered a new flavour. He turned towards me fully, leaning in, and suddenly, the laws of genetics being explained by Ms Olga might as well have been in Martian for all the attention I was paying. Ivan was so close that I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, like specks of stardust sprinkled by a cosmic artist. I could even catch a faint whiff of his cologne, something fresh and misty as if he'd just stepped out of a waterfall.

My heart pounded in my chest like it was auditioning for a percussion section, as I scooted to the edge of my seat, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks like a pair of overripe tomatoes. And just when I thought things couldn't get any more embarrassing, my hand slipped over the table, knocking down my water bottle.

My eyes widened as I watched it roll in slow motion, panic surging through me. Before I could react, Ivan's hand darted out and caught it just before it hit the floor. His reflexes were impressive.

"Thanks," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper, feeling like I'd just dodged a bullet. Glancing down at my shoes, I wished they could swallow me whole. My face flushed even more, and my fingers fidgeted nervously. Summoning courage, I looked up and met Ivan's gaze with a shy smile, hoping it didn't scream-panic attack.

He chuckled, his green eyes crinkling with amusement as he ran his hand through his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial. "I'm from Moscow. How about you?" he asked, his tone warm and inviting, as if he genuinely cared about the answer.

"Originally from Texas," I sighed tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. "But I've lived in a few places. We used to move around a lot."

"I got a scholarship to study engineering," Ivan explained leaning back in his seat and focusing on the front. "I don't know in what right mind I chose this damn subject. Still regretting it, though."

"Um, yeah," I replied, fidgeting with the cap of my pen. "I'm here for the science program. I, uh, I'm really into genetics, even though it's tough. This school has one of the best programs in the country."

"That's impressive," I averted my eyes as he turned towards me. "Science and engineering, quite the combination." His face lit up with excitement, his grin widening as he leaned in closer.

"Right?" I laughed nervously. 

"So, have you been here long?" he asked.

"Just a week," I shrugged. "Still getting used to everything. The culture here is so different."

"I bet," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "If you need any help or just want to hang out, let me know. I've been here a semester already, so I kinda know my way around."

"That would be great, thank you," I said, genuinely grateful. "I could use a friend here."

"Consider it done," he said with a timid smile. "So what do you do for fun back in Texas?"

"Well, I like to play chess, and I'm really into reading," I shared. "What about you?"

"I love going to museums and exploring new cities," he replied, my fingers still nervously playing with my pen. "And I've been getting into photography lately."

"Maybe I could show you some of my work sometime," he suggested.

"I'd love that," I said, my eyes lighting up briefly before I looked down again.

"Deal," Ivan agreed. "Looks like we both have a lot to share."

"Definitely," I said, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Just as I turned around to say something, the bell rang, and Ms. Olga wrapped up the class. "Medusa's leaving," he whispered under his breath.

I stifled a laugh. "Quick, before she turns us all to stone with her glare." My heart thumped loudly as I looked at him.

"Well, see you later," I stuffed my books in the bag.

"IVAN!" someone called from across the room.

"I'll have to go, or, do you wanna—"

"That's all right. I need to explore the library," I said quickly, eager to escape the intensity of the interaction. I wanted to engage with him, to make new friends, but I also couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me to stay quiet, to blend into the background like I always do. It told me that I was not interesting enough, not outgoing enough, not enough to warrant anyone's attention.

"Okay, see you around, Seraphina!" he said with a cheerful wave.

"See you," I replied softly, watching him walk away with his characteristic bounce. I exhaled deeply, my heart still racing. The thought of standing out, and drawing attention to myself, filled me with a sense of dread. What if people saw me for who I really was and didn't like what they saw? What if they laugh at me, ridicule me, reject me? The thought was enough to send shivers down my spine, to make me want to shrink even further into the background.

*******