Please, Punish Me

Sofia Bliss

It felt strange packing my bag, knowing I had no idea when I’d be back.

I yanked the zipper shut like it could give me some kind of certainty. It didn’t. My chest was still tight, my eyes burned, and my stomach felt like a tangled knot.

I glanced around the room one last time. The faded quilt, the threadbare curtain, the stack of old books in the corner… every piece of that place told my story. And even though it wasn’t much, it was home.

I walked slowly to the kitchen, dragging my feet, trying to record every detail. My father was there, sitting in the same chair from which he now seemed to live. His hands were clasped in front of an empty cup, his eyes fixed on nothing.

“You leaving already?” he asked, without looking at me.

I nodded, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Letícia said the bus leaves at eight. I… I can’t miss it.”

He didn’t answer. And maybe that hurt more than any harsh word he could’ve thrown at me.

I knelt beside him and took his hands in mine. They were cold—cold like the sink tiles.

Up close, I could see the dark circles under his eyes, the hollow face that hadn’t smiled in months. Ever since mom died, it was like he’d stopped living too.

“I’m gonna make it, Dad. I swear. I’ll find a job, save up, and… I’ll come back for you. We’ll leave this place. We’ll start over.”

My voice cracked. But I didn’t cry. I could n’t—not in front of him.

He just nodded. Numb.

Maybe he didn’t believe in promises anymore.

Maybe he didn’t believe in me.

Outside, the neighbor honked the horn. He was giving me a ride to the bus station. I stuffed my phone into my pocket, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and walked to the door.

Right before leaving, I looked back.

“Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll take care of us. Of our future.”

Nothing. No word. No glance. Just the same silence.

Like he’d gotten used to watching everything he loved walk away.

So I left—before my courage broke apart.

---

The dirt road to the bus terminal flew by in a blur.

I kept pretending I was fine. Like it was just another trip.

But deep inside, every mile felt like it was tearing something out of me.

I got there too early. Sat on a hard bench with my backpack clutched tight to my chest. Waited. Anxious.

When the bus finally rolled in, it looked huge—like something out of a different world.

And when it drove off…

I felt so small.

So alone.

But I had to go.

If I stayed, I’d die a little more every day.

Just like him.

---

Hours later, I stepped off the bus at the city’s central station. My body was there… but my soul?

Crushed.

The lights were everywhere. Horns blared. People shouted and rushed around like life was a race they were all about to lose.

It was overwhelming.

But also… beautiful. In a way that almost hurt to look at.

Leticia met me by the stairs. She looked like she'd stepped straight out of a movie - loose hair, well-done make-up, shiny gold bracelets jingling on her wrists.

“I can't believe it! Sofia! You really came!” she shouted, wrapping her arms around me. “Are you ready to change your life?”

I smiled. I wasn’t sure.

She grabbed my suitcase and started walking. I followed her like a shadow. Every step pulling me further from the girl I used to be.

And all I could think was:

Did I make the right choice?

Letícia kept talking—about the new apartment, how happy she was to have me there—but my eyes stayed glued to my phone screen.

Still nothing.

No message.

No “Did you get there safe?”, “Be careful”, “I love you”.

Nothing from my dad.

And that... that hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I tried to keep my hands busy, fiddling with my fingers, adjusting the bag on my shoulder - but deep down, all I wanted at that moment was a sign from him.

Anything at all.

Leticia noticed. Of course she noticed. No matter how different we were from each other, she always had that sharp look in her eye.

“It'll be all right, Sofia,” she said, leaning her shoulder against mine. ”Soon you'll be earning your own money, helping your father - and then he'll want to move here with you. We'll get him out of that miserable village. Nobody deserves to rot in that godforsaken place.”

I nodded with a soft, broken smile. She wasn’t wrong. Even if it stung to admit.

The village I was born in felt like it had been forgotten by the world. Cold. Empty.

And haunted by too many memories I couldn’t carry anymore.

We caught a cab and headed to her apartment.

The building was old, the elevator creaked as if it hadn't been serviced in decades, and the hallway smelled of old cigarettes and fresh paint.

But honestly? I didn’t care.

It was small. But it was a start.

The moment we entered his house, the smell changed completely. A wave of incense hit me, sweet and floral.

Her apartment was a mess in that charming way of hers - very lively, full of life.

There was a TV on the wall, a small table with a few empty glasses, pillows scattered around the sofa…

And… whips?

I blinked.

Did I just see…?

I looked again, slower this time.

First, a leather collar, thick, with a silver ring in the center, draped casually over the armrest.

Then, on the side table—a whip. A real fucking whip.

On the floor? An open pair of handcuffs.

Over the chair? Coiled red ropes, neatly folded like they were waiting for someone.

It looked like a movie set.

Or worse—one of those dirty books I used to sneak from the back shelf in the town library, when I was sixteen and starving to learn what forbidden meant.

I froze.

Eyes wide, heart skipping.

Every part of me was trying to understand what I was seeing, as if I had been thrown into the middle of a meaningless puzzle.

And the only thought that hit me was:

“What the actual fuck is this?”