Chapter 5: Exile and Abandonment
1342 Words
Kendall’s POV
A dull, throbbing pain radiated through my body as I stirred, the cold, hard floor pressing against my back. My eyelids felt like lead, heavy and unwilling to lift. My lips were cracked, dry, tasting of blood.
The scent of dried sweat and iron clung to me, suffocating, a brutal reminder of what had happened.
Slowly, my eyes fluttered open. The meeting hall was empty.
They had left me here.
Alone.
I shifted, a sharp pain stabbing through my ribs, forcing a strangled gasp from my throat. I tried to sit up, but my body screamed in protest. The memory of jagged stones slamming into my skin replayed in my mind, the sting still fresh.
I wasn’t dreaming.
They had really done this to me.
The pack I had loved. The people I had grown up with. My own family.
A shudder ran through me.
I had been exiled.
A lump formed in my throat as I forced myself to stand, my legs wobbling beneath me. The silence in the hall felt louder than any of the screams from yesterday.
No one had stayed to check if I was alive.
Not even Zach.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. I need to get out of here.
The walk back to my house felt endless. Every step was agony.
I kept my head down as I limped through the village, past the homes of the pack members who had thrown those stones at me.
Doors shut as I passed. Curtains were drawn.
They wanted nothing to do with me.
By the time I reached my house, my body was trembling, my strength nearly gone. My fingers barely managed to turn the doorknob.
I pushed the door open.
Laughter floated from the dining room. The clinking of cutlery, the warmth of home.
I stepped inside, the scent of roasted meat filling my nose.
For a brief moment, I allowed myself to hope.
Maybe my parents had changed their minds. Maybe they had realized they had made a mistake.
I moved toward the dining room, my heart pounding.
And then I saw them.
Sitting at the table. Eating. Laughing.
As if nothing had happened.
As if I hadn’t just been beaten and left for dead.
As if I didn’t even exist.
“Mom?” My voice cracked.
She didn’t look up.
“Dad?” I tried again.
Nothing.
The room felt suffocating. I took a shaky step forward, the sound of my bare feet against the wooden floor the only sign that I was even there.
My mother reached for the bread in front of her, tearing off a piece as if my presence meant nothing.
My father sipped his wine.
They weren’t ignoring me.
They had already erased me.
A fresh wave of pain struck my chest, worse than any stone thrown at me.
I swallowed the sob building in my throat and turned on my heel, walking up the stairs to my room.
My old room.
It didn’t belong to me anymore.
None of this did.
With unsteady hands, I pulled out a small bag and stuffed in whatever clothes I could grab. A hoodie, a pair of jeans, some sneakers.
No one would miss them.
No one would miss me.
I hesitated, glancing around the room, at the walls that had once held framed pictures of my childhood. Of my family.
The pictures were gone.
Of course they were.
They had already erased me from their lives.
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, though there was nothing funny about it.
I zipped the bag shut and took one last look around before heading downstairs.
My parents were still at the table.
Still eating.
Still pretending I didn’t exist.
I stood in the doorway for a long moment, waiting.
For a word.
For a glance.
For something.
Nothing.
“I’m leaving,” I said quietly.
Silence.
“I won’t come back.”
Nothing.
I gritted my teeth, forcing my head high even as my vision blurred. “You won’t have to pretend anymore.”
I waited, foolishly hoping my father would say something, anything.
That my mother would at least look at me.
She only reached for more bread.
I clenched my jaw, forcing my trembling hands to tighten around my bag strap.
Then, without another word, I turned and walked out the door.
No one stopped me.
No one called my name.
The moment I reached my car, my legs buckled.
My breath came in short, shallow gasps, my vision swimming.
I gripped the car door, my fingers curling around the handle as a strangled sob tore from my lips.
They had really abandoned me.
The weight of it crashed down all at once.
I slid into the driver’s seat, burying my face in my hands as the dam broke.
Tears streamed down my face, my shoulders shaking violently. I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel, my cries muffled against the cold leather.
This was it.
This was real.
I had no home. No family. No pack.
Nothing.
I gasped for air, but the pain wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let up.
For the first time in my life, I had no one.
And worst of all?
No one cared.
___
A month had passed.
Thirty days since my life had fallen apart.
I had no home, no pack, no family. Just an old, cramped apartment I could barely afford and a job that paid just enough to keep me from starving.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
I adjusted the weight of the grocery bags in my arms, shifting them slightly as I made my way toward my car. The sun hung high in the sky, its heat pressing against my skin, making me dizzy.
I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the sudden wave of exhaustion.
Maybe I was just tired.
Maybe I hadn’t eaten enough today.
I kept walking, but the edges of my vision blurred. My legs wobbled beneath me, the ground shifting in a way that made my stomach turn.
I barely had time to react before the world tilted completely.
The grocery bags slipped from my grasp. My knees buckled.
And then,nothing.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying down.
A soft beeping noise filled the air, steady and rhythmic. The harsh fluorescent lights above me made my head pound. The smell of antiseptic burned my nose.
I was in a hospital.
Panic seized my chest, and I tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed gently against my shoulder.
“Take it easy,” a voice said. A woman.
I turned my head slightly and saw a stranger sitting beside my bed. She had soft brown eyes and warm, dark skin, her expression filled with concern.
“You passed out in the parking lot,” she explained. “I couldn’t just leave you there, so I brought you here.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She smiled. “You’re welcome. The doctor said he’d be in soon with your test results.”
Test results?
Before I could ask, the door swung open, and a man in a white coat stepped inside. He glanced at the clipboard in his hands before looking up at me.
“Kendall Monroe?”
I nodded slowly, my pulse picking up. I changed my name too.
He sighed, his expression unreadable. “You fainted due to exhaustion and low blood pressure. But that’s not the only reason.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated for a second, then spoke.
“You’re pregnant.”
The words slammed into me like a physical blow.
I felt the blood drain from my face, my fingers going numb.
Pregnant?
No.
This couldn’t be happening.
But deep down, I already knew the truth.
The night by the waterfall…
Zach.
My breathing grew shallow, my chest tightening with fear.
This couldn’t be real.
This wasn’t real.
But no matter how badly I wanted to deny it…
It was.
- Writer
