The Girl They Left in the Dark

Chapter 4 - Sold and Silenced

Zaria opened her eyes and was greeted by darkness — thick, suffocating darkness that wrapped around her like a shroud. Her breath caught in her throat as panic clawed its way up her chest. Her fingers scrambled against the rough wooden floor until they found something solid — the dusty wall of the storage room.

A shaky breath escaped her lips. She was still there. Still trapped. For a moment, she had dared to hope it had all been a nightmare. The betrayal, the blow to her head, the realization that her family had turned into monsters — all just a twisted dream. But the sharp, throbbing pain at the back of her skull told her the bitter truth.

Her hand rose to her head and came away slightly sticky. She winced. There was a bump—fresh and angry—left by the piece of metal Saphina had wielded like a weapon. Her own stepsister.

The sudden creak of the door jolted her heart. Her wide eyes turned to the doorway.

There stood Elira.

Her stepmother looked like a ghost of elegance, with her perfect red lips curled into a victorious smile. That smile widened at the fear in Zaria’s eyes, feeding off it like a predator savouring its catch.

“You tried to jump from the balcony, didn’t you?” Elira said smoothly, stepping into the dim room. “You wanted people to call me a wicked stepmother, hmm? Let rumors spread that I drove you to madness?”

Zaria remained silent. Her lips pressed tightly together. She wouldn’t give Elira the satisfaction of begging.

Elira shrugged and held up a covered plate. “This is the food your father insisted I give you. After all, you haven’t eaten since morning. He’s concerned, you see.”

For a second, Zaria was tempted to throw the food back in her face. But her stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder of her hunger.

She took the food without a word, her hands trembling, but didn’t eat until Elira left and shut the door behind her.

Only then did she dig in.

She didn’t notice the bitter aftertaste at first. The food filled her stomach with warmth, but soon after, her vision began to blur. Her limbs felt distant, disconnected.

Something was wrong.

Zaria staggered to her feet, trying to call for help — but her voice came out as a whisper. The walls spun, the world dulled. She stumbled toward the door, then froze.

A shadow loomed before her.

A tall, burly man stepped into view, his thick beard and sun-darkened skin made him look like something from a nightmare. He smiled when he saw her swaying figure.

“She’s definitely worth the money,” he said with a pleased grunt.

She tried to scream. To run. But her feet refused to move.

The man hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She heard voices — low and satisfied.

Through the haze, she caught her father's expression.

Eric stood silently, arms crossed. Cold. Distant. Not even pretending to be conflicted.

Beside him, Saphina clapped her hands in delight like a child receiving a gift.

And Elira… Elira stood with one hand on her hip, her smile smug and triumphant.

Before the darkness claimed her completely, Zaria saw the man return and hand Eric a cheque. Crisp and folded.

“If you’ve got more like her, don’t hesitate to call,” he said with a grin. His gaze lingered on Saphina. “A beauty like that? She’d fetch a fortune.”

A chill settled in the room.

“That’s my daughter,” Eric said sharply, his tone colder than ice.

The man chuckled, said nothing, and turned away.

Zaria didn’t see when the truck's trunk slammed shut, but she felt the darkness swallowing her again, this time with no hope of waking up safe.

---

When Zaria next opened her eyes, she felt metal beneath her and the rhythmic rumble of motion. Cold air pricked her skin. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up slowly.

She was inside a container.

A large, rusty shipping container packed with girls. Some her age. Some older. And horrifyingly, some younger than fifteen.

Their eyes held the same fear. Some were tied up. Others too weak to move.

Zaria’s wrists burned from the rough rope binding them, but she barely noticed. Her heart was thudding too loud. Her mind reeled.

She’d been sold.

The realization felt like acid in her veins.

Suddenly, the container doors groaned open. Harsh light poured in, and three men stepped forward — all rough-faced, with tattoos and cold eyes.

One of them barked, “Listen up! You belong to Madam Orella now. You're being transported to the outskirts of Aurelia Heights. From there, she decides what happens to you.”

He scanned their faces, indifferent to the horror setting in. “She’s picky. So eat. Stay healthy. Because if she’s not pleased... you become food for her lion.”

Gasps erupted. One girl fainted. Another began sobbing uncontrollably.

Zaria didn’t move. Her heart was hammering, but she kept her face blank. She had cried too much in recent weeks. Now, she had to survive.

Three long days passed in cramped, hellish silence. The container was dark most of the time. Food was barely enough. The girls clung to one another for warmth, fear pressing on them like the metal walls.

Finally, the container jolted to a stop.

The doors opened again.

Rough hands dragged them out one by one, blindfolding them. Zaria fought, but the drug in her system still lingered. Her limbs were slow.

They were loaded into separate trucks like cargo.

The ride was long. The air smelled like dust and smoke. Zaria tried to memorize every bump, every sound. Anything that might help her escape.

When the trucks stopped, they were led down a narrow, winding path. She could feel dry grass under her feet. Bushland.

Then, the ground turned smooth. Cement.

They entered a building.

When the blindfolds were yanked off, Zaria blinked hard.

They were inside what looked like an old warehouse. But below it was a vast underground prison — cages lined with iron bars. Dozens of girls — some silent, others whispering in fear.

Zaria and five others were shoved into one of the cells. The air smelled of sweat and despair.

She backed against the wall and scanned the others.

Then, she saw her.

A girl, about her age, with wild curly hair and scars running across her arms and face. Her eyes were sharp, rebellious. Not broken.

She stared at Zaria with a look that said: Don’t give up.

Before Zaria could speak, the clanking of heels echoed down the hall.

Everyone fell silent.

A tall, slim woman stepped in. Her cream silk gown flowed behind her like smoke. Her eyes were dead. Her face was all bone and beauty, but her aura was terrifying.

She stopped in front of the cell and looked at the new arrivals with a smirk.

Then her gaze landed on Zaria.

She frowned.

“Where did you take her from?” she asked the man beside her.

He grinned. “Zaria. Sixteen. Looks fresh and untouched. You’ll make a fortune from her.”

The woman’s eyes lingered.

Then she smiled.

“A fine catch,” she said coldly. “Make sure she’s well fed.”

Zaria met her eyes, unflinching.

She wouldn’t cry. Not here.

But deep down, a voice whispered: You will survive this. And one day… you’ll make them all pay.