Sold For A Night, Bound For A Lifetime

Chapter 6

The sound of the phone hitting the floor echoed in the quiet apartment like a gunshot.

My heart didn’t just skip a beat—it felt like it shattered completely into dust. I stood there in the doorway, frozen, my fingers still clutching the strap of my bag as my mother stared at me. Her face had gone completely pale, drained of all color, her breathing turning shallow and fast. For a second, I thought she was going to collapse right there.

"Mom..." I said, my voice trembling so hard the word barely came out. I took a step forward, my legs shaking. "Mom, please. Let me explain—"

"Don't," she whispered. Her voice wasn't angry yet; it was broken, carrying a weight that crushed the air right out of my lungs. "Don't you dare call me that right now."

She looked at me, her eyes gathered with tears that spilled over instantly, falling down her frail cheeks. The woman who had raised me, the woman who had sacrificed everything just to put food on our table after dad passed away, looked at me like she didn't even recognize the monster standing in front of her.

"Is it true?" she asked, her voice cracking with a raw, pain. "Did you... did you actually sell your body to a stranger? A complete stranger? Just for me?"

"I didn't have a choice!" I sobbed, the tears finally breaking free, streaming down my face as I rushed forward and dropped to my knees beside her chair. I tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled it away sharply, as if my touch was toxic.

"Mom, what was I supposed to do?! They were going to kick you out! You had forty-eight hours! I begged, I went everywhere, no one would hire me! If I didn't do it, you would be dead right now! You would be in a morgue!"

"And you think this makes it better?!" she screamed, a sudden, desperate anger tearing through her fragile frame as she clutched at her chest where the surgical scars were still fresh.

"You think I wanted to live like this?! Breathing air paid for, by my daughter trading her dignity, her body, her soul to some rich bastard?! I would rather be dead, Kayla! God, I swear to God, it would have been better if I had died on that hospital bed than to know you destroyed your life so I could live a few more miserable years!"

Those words hit me like a physical blow

"Don't say that mom!," I sobbed, shaking my head frantically, crawling closer to her knees while she turned her face away from me, refusing to look at my tears. "Don't say that, Mom, please. I couldn't live without you. I couldn't. I had to do it. Punish me, hate me, scream at me all you want, but don't say you wish you were dead..."

"Get out," she whispered, her voice dropping to a cold, dead quiet that hurt worse than the shouting. She didn't look at me. She just pointed a trembling finger toward the front door. "Just... get out of my sight, Kayla. I can't look at you right now. Get out please."

Sobbing uncontrollably, I stood up to my feet, grabbed my bag off the couch, and left the apartment before I could suffocate from the grief. I didn't care where I went. I just ran down the stairs, and open the front door and left

Hours passed

I walked the streets of the city until my feet ache and my throat was dry. The reality of what had happened earlier settled over me like a heavy, suffocating feeling .

My mother hated me. The secret was out. The sacrifice I made to save her life had completely blown up in my face, leaving me with nothing—no best friend, no family's respect, and a life that felt entirely crushed, I was all alone.

But rent didn't care about my broken heart. Food didn't buy itself. And if I wanted to survive this hell, I needed to fix my life, by starting with a job. Any job at all

By afternoon, desperate and running on zero sleep, I found myself walking down the bustling street downtown, applying anywhere I could

I kept my head down, wiping the remains of dried tears from my cheeks, trying to look presentable even though I felt like a ghost walking among the living.

And then, fate—or some cruel, twisted joke of the universe—decided to cross my path with the very last person on earth I ever wanted to see again.

I was walking past a Cafe when a familiar, sharp voice cut through the street noise.

"Well, look who it is. If it isn't the f*****g liar herself."

I froze.

I slowly turned my head.

Sitting at a coffee table, sipping a cappuccino with her legs crossed and a smug, wicked smirk plastered across her face, was Sarah. She was dressed in a stylish crop top and designer shades, looking completely unbothered.

Standing beside her table, I stood there like an i***t, my breath catching in my throat.

Sarah lowered her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, her eyes scanning my exhausted, tear stained face . She let out a sharp, mocking scoff.

"Look at you," Sarah muttered loud enough for everyone at the nearby tables to hear, rolling her eyes hard. "Walking around looking like a sad little stray dog. What's wrong, Kayla? Did your precious mama finally find out that her sweet, innocent little virgin daughter is nothing more than a high-priced hooker?"

My blood ran cold, and then, a hot, blinding wave of pure rage rushed through my veins, washing away the sadness and replacing it with pure venom.

"You are a , miserable b***h, Sarah," I snapped,I hardly curse but I was so mad and I didn't care

Sarah didn't even flinch. She just took a slow sip of her drink, unbothered as hell, before slamming the glass down on the table.

"Oh, spare me the drama, you hypocritical little b***h!" Sarah barked back, her voice dropping all its fake sweetness, turning sharp and venomous. She stood up from her chair, towering over me with her heels. "You think you're so damn righteous, don't you? You sat up in your high horse and judged me, called me a w***e, told me I had no soul just because I work for my money! But what did you do the second things got hard?

You opened your legs for a billionaire, got paid cash, and then had the absolute nerve to lie straight to my face and your mother's face like a coward!"

People nearby were starting to stare and record, but I didn't give a damn.

"I did it to save her life!" I yelled, my voice cracking, tears of fury springing back into my eyes. "I didn't do it because I wanted to brag about it, or use people like inventory the way you do! You have zero loyalty, Sarah! You couldn't stand the fact that I actually had a real reason, while you just sell yourself for loose change and designer bags!"

"f**k you, Kayla!" Sarah shouted, her face flushing bright red with genuine anger as she pointed a finger right in my face. "You think you're better than me?! You're living in the exact same gutter! You're just a lying, hypocritical w***e . Don't you ever walk up to my face and try to act like you're clean, because you're just as dirty as the rest of us!"

The insult hung in the hot afternoon air, sharp and ugly.

For a second, I wanted to lunge at her. I wanted to grab her by her hair. But looking at her—seeing how bitterly empty and toxic she had become—I realized something,. Fighting her wasn't going to fix my mom. Shouting at her wasn't going to buy back my dignity.

I straightened my posture, wiping the remaining tears from my face with the back of my hand. I forced every out every sign weakness out of my body, staring straight into her eyes with a cold, glare.

"Keep your money, Sarah. Keep your bitterness, and keep your miserable life," I said, my voice calm, cutting right through her anger. "Because at least when I look in the mirror, I know why I did what I did. You? You're just a bitter, lonely girl who can't stand seeing anyone else survive."

Before she could fire back another curse word, I turned and walked away.

I didn't look back. I didn't care what she screamed after me. My mother hated me, my best friend was dead to me, and the world was crashing down all around me. But as I walked down that crowded street with my head held high, I knew one thing for certain: I was going to survive this. No matter how much it cost me.