Chapter3
1040 Words
I don’t remember the moment I snapped.
One second, I was staring at the ceiling, feeling like I was floating outside my own body, watching my life crumble from a distance.
The next, I was ripping the IV from my arm, blood beading against my skin as I tore the hospital gown away.
“Miss Sinclair!” A nurse rushed in, her voice sharp with alarm.
I didn’t care.
I couldn’t care.
Everything inside me was raw, burning with something too deep, too painful to contain.
I stumbled off the bed, my vision blurring, but I caught myself against the cold metal of the IV stand.
I was still too weak. My legs trembled beneath me, but I forced them to move.
“Miss Sinclair, you need to rest—”
“I need to leave.” My voice was hoarse, but filled with rage.
A doctor stepped in, his face unreadable as he flipped through a clipboard. “You haven’t been discharged. There’s still your medical bills—”
Medical bills?
I froze.
I reached for my bag, my phone, and my wallet, but my fingers met nothing.
I turned sharply. “Where’s my stuff?”
The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Your personal belongings were removed at your family’s request.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “What?”
The doctor didn’t even blink. “You have an outstanding balance of—”
I wasn’t listening anymore.
I turned, rushing to the front desk. The receptionist barely glanced at me. “I need my phone.”
Her fingers clacked against the keyboard. “It’s not here.”
I swallowed, my throat tight, my hands shaking. “My bank account—”
“We tried processing the payment earlier, but your accounts have been frozen.”
The room spun.
I gripped the counter. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” she replied. “We’ll need a direct payment before we can officially discharge you.”
I let out a breathless laugh. This had to be a joke.
It wasn’t.
Gabriel.
My parents.
They did this.
The realization hit like a fist to my gut. They weren’t just pushing me aside. They were erasing me.
A security guard appeared beside me. “Miss, if you can’t pay, you’ll need to leave.”
I looked at him. He was twice my size, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.
I had no fight left.
I turned, walking toward the exit.
Each step burned.
Each breath hurt.
I wasn’t ready to be outside, to face the world, but I had no choice.
The second I stepped out, the cold air hit me like a slap.
Rain.
It was pouring.
I wrapped my arms around myself, still in the thin hospital gown, my body weak, bleeding, broken.
I needed clothes. A pad. I needed to breathe.
I barely made it three steps before my knees almost buckled.
But I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t.
---
Home. No not home. A house. My family's house.
The house was warm, the lights golden and inviting.
For a second, I let myself believe I still belonged there.
Then I heard my father’s voice.
“She did the right thing.”
I froze.
Anaya’s laugh followed. “I told you she’d be dramatic.”
I stepped forward, pressing myself against the hallway wall. My body ached, but the pain in my chest was worse.
“She needed to know her place,” my mother’s voice chimed in.
My hands curled into fists.
Gabriel’s name came next. “He was never going to choose her. Aria is… ordinary. Not interesting enough and unimportant.”
A bitter laugh. Anaya again. “She’s nothing now.”
I stepped into the room.
Their eyes flickered to me, unbothered.
They had known.
They had let it happen.
My voice trembled. “You let her—” I swallowed. “You let them—”
My father stood, his face hard. “Enough, Aria.”
I shook my head. “How could you do this? You knew what they did! And you—” My voice cracked. “You let them take everything from me!”
My father sighed like he was tired of this conversation.
Like he was tired of me.
“Stop being delusional,” he muttered.
I took a step back.
Gabriel was always too good for you.
The slap came before I even processed the words.
My head snapped to the side.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t cry.
Didn’t scream.
I just stared at the man who was supposed to protect me.
His hand stung against my cheek, but the deeper wound settled in my chest.
I was nothing to them.
Had I always been?
My breath came out shakier than I wanted. My fingers twitched at my sides. I turned on my heel and walked to my room, shutting the door quietly behind me.
I moved like a ghost.
Like I wasn’t real.
Like this wasn’t my life.
I pulled out a duffel bag.
Stuffed clothes inside.
No money. No help.
I grabbed my spare phone from the drawer, fingers trembling.
Texted the friends I had left.
But it did not fall through.
I was blocked.
By all of them.
The realization settled deep, cold, and sharp.
They weren’t my friends.
They never were.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, gripping the bag tight.
The moment I stepped outside, the rain swallowed me.
I walked.
No plan.
No direction.
Each step is heavier than the last.
My hair clung to my skin. My clothes soaked through, sticking to my body, but I didn’t care.
I was bleeding. Weak. Empty.
I just kept walking.
And then—
A flicker of something through the rain.
A sign.
A job listing taped to a storefront window.
The words stood out, bold and impossible to ignore.
Surrogate Needed. Immediate Hire.
My breath hitched.
The money—enough to survive.
Enough to make them regret everything.
I pulled my phone out, barely able to see the screen through the raindrops.
I applied.
I didn’t think.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t realize who was behind the offer. If he was a serial killer. I didn't care.
At this moment, even death would be most welcomed.
- Writer
