Chapter Ten: The Punishment
1295 Words
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. At first, I thought it was part of a dream — soft thuds on the floor, the creak of my door. But when I opened my eyes, I saw two of our maids stepping out of my room, each of them carrying one of my suitcases.
My suitcases.
I shot up from bed, my heart racing. “Wait!” I called, but they didn’t stop. They kept walking down the hall like they were on a mission.
I jumped out of bed, still in my sleeping suit, and hurried after them. “What is happening?” I demanded, my voice sharp. No one answered. They just kept going, heading down the grand staircase.
By the time I reached the bottom, they were placing my bags by the front door.
“What the hell is happening?!” I snapped, my voice echoing in the hallway. My chest tightened as I looked from one maid to the other, but they avoided my eyes like they weren’t even allowed to speak to me.
And then I saw him.
My father.
He stepped out of his study, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. My breath caught. “Dad?”
I almost couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to be abroad — he’d been gone for days.
“When did you get home?” I asked, my voice smaller now. “And why… why are my things packed?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, hands behind his back, looking at me like I was a problem he had already solved.
My heart hammered. “What is exactly happening, Dad? I am so confused here right now.”
His eyes didn’t waver. “You are going to an island.”
I froze. The words didn’t even make sense at first. “I’m sorry, what?” I laughed, but it came out hollow, trembling. “What did you say? An island? Why? What is that supposed to mean?”
His tone stayed flat, like he’d rehearsed this. “It means you need to be taught a lesson, Sabrina. I’ve let you run wild for too long. The drinking. The parties. The fighting. Do you know what kind of mess you’ve been creating for this family?”
I felt the blood rush to my face. “A lesson? By shipping me off to some random island? Are you insane?”
He stepped closer, his voice sharpening like a blade. “Don’t you dare twist this into me being the problem. I know everything, Sab. I saw what you did at the bar. You think word doesn’t travel fast? You think I wouldn’t find out?”
My stomach dropped. He knew.
He leaned in, his expression carved in stone. “You fought another girl in public. In front of everyone. Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if that video had spread? You’re lucky it hasn’t made it to the press yet. You’re lucky I still have the influence to keep it quiet. You’ve embarrassed yourself. You’ve embarrassed this family. And it stops now.” His words slammed against me, one after another.
I shook my head furiously, refusing to accept it. “This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous! You can’t just decide to dump me on an island like I’m—like I’m trash you’re trying to hide away.”
His silence in response was worse than his anger. His silence was final.
I laughed again, desperate, bitter. “Do you even hear yourself? An island? What do you think that’s going to do, huh? Fix me? You think sending me away is going to magically erase everything?”
For the first time, a flicker of something broke through his mask—frustration, maybe, or hurt—but he covered it quickly. “You’ll understand in time. For now, this is what’s best for you.”
“No,” I snapped, my throat tight with rage. “This is what’s best for you. So you don’t have to deal with me. So you can pretend everything’s perfect while I’m locked away, out of sight.”
But my father didn’t even flinch. His jaw tightened, his voice firm and unshakable. “My words are final. You will live alone for three months—until you learn your lesson.”
My stomach dropped. “Three months?” The words came out strangled, half laugh, half cry. “Are you out of your mind? That’s a big no! I won’t last three months stuck on some stupid island!”
“You’ll last because you have to.” His tone was cold, carved in stone. “No more arguments. You’d better prepare yourself—you leave in fifteen minutes.”
The air in my chest turned sharp, impossible to breathe. “Fifteen minutes?” I repeated, stunned. This wasn’t a punishment; this was exile.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The way he stood there, immovable, told me there was nothing I could do to change his mind.
I turned on my heel before he could see my eyes sting with angry tears. My legs carried me up the stairs, my pulse roaring in my ears. Every step felt like it was pulling me deeper into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
When I finally slammed my bedroom door shut, the fury exploded out of me. I screamed, raw and loud, into the emptiness. My voice cracked, but the sound wasn’t enough. I grabbed the first thing within reach—a pillow—and hurled it at the wall.
“Three months,” I muttered bitterly, pacing the room with my fists clenched. “Three months on some goddamn island like I’m a prisoner. Like I’m some… some child who can’t handle herself.”
My chest heaved, tears blurring my vision, though I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction—not even here, not even alone.
***
I slid into the backseat of the car with a force that made the door shudder. My chest still burned with the echoes of my screaming, but now it was all caged inside me, tightening like a fist around my ribs. The driver glanced at me through the mirror, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
My father leaned down to the window before it rolled up, his voice calm in that way that only made me want to rip something apart. “Don’t worry about your university. I’ve already settled everything for you.”
I stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. Like hell I cared about that right now. What was the point of university when I was being exiled like a criminal? His words slid right past me, as meaningless as the hum of the engine.
I pressed my lips together, nails digging into my palms as the driver started the engine. The low rumble filled the silence between us, and I bit back the urge to scream again. Every second felt like I was being pulled farther from the life I fought to keep, farther from my friends, from the nights of noise and neon where I actually felt alive.
The car moved, and the gates of our house grew smaller and smaller in the rear window until they vanished altogether. My stomach twisted as the city blurred past, a place I knew like the back of my hand slipping right out of my grip.
When the coastline came into view, the sinking reality hit harder: the ferry. My so-called “lesson.”
I sat back in the seat, arms crossed, jaw tight. Fine. If he thought he could ship me off to an island and break me, he was dead wrong.
***
- Writer
