The street was empty and silent, even the leaves of the trees barely stirring, as if the very air held its breath. If the alley was filled with neighbors, everyone might notice the lightning above Hertford Manor. But the people living next to Atrickvic Street couldn't hear the lightning; it was inaudible, appearing and vanishing in the blink of an eye, as if someone flicked a switch. Besides, people in Rome preferred to mind their own business, certainly not peering at the roof of Shier Hertford's manor, the most well-known scientist in Italy.

Grabbing a handful of dark brown hair, he watched Becca wince in pain. Tears didn't seep from her eyes; she had stopped crying long ago, resigned to her life with her abusive father. She often wished she could scream to the world, “Your favorite scientist is the worst father one could ever have.”

“What is better? Tolerating your pain or screaming your lungs out?” Shier asked, his grip still tight on Becca's hair.

Becca wanted to scream her answer: that ripping your soul out of your body is better. However, she kept quiet. If she replied so boldly, he might just kill her. She didn't want to die at the tender age of eighteen. Despite the years of abuse she suffered, she knew she had a better life ahead. Becca Hertford always had faith, and she never lost hope.