CHAPTER 4
834 Words
“No, she’s just stressed,” Aunty Catty replied quickly. “She’ll gain weight. She’s young and healthy.”
Clara shook her head under the cloth, her hands trembling.
What are they talking about…?
“How old is she?” the man asked.
“Twenty-two"
There was a pause.
Clara could hear footsteps shifting, like someone was walking around… looking at her.
Judging her.
“She doesn’t look like trouble?” the man added.
Clara’s chest tightened painfully.
“I assure you, she’s very obedient,” Aunty Catty said smoothly. “She just needs proper guidance.”
Clara’s breath hitched.
Obedient?
Guidance?
Her mind started connecting the pieces.
And when it did—
Fear unlike anything she had ever felt before took over.
“No…” she whispered.
Her voice trembled harder now. “No, Aunty… please…”
“She’s mine once I pay,” the man said.
“Yes,” Aunty Catty replied without hesitation.
Clara’s legs nearly gave out.
“No! No, you can’t do this!” she screamed, struggling violently now. “I’m not something you can sell! I’m not—!”
A hand tightened on her arm.
“Keep quiet,” one of the guards warned.
“Please!” she cried out louder. “Aunty, please! I’m begging you!”
For a brief second, there was silence.
Clara held her breath.
Hoping.
Waiting.
Then—
“Take her,” Aunty Catty said coldly.
Just like that.
Like Clara meant nothing.
Like she wasn’t even human.
The guards pushed her forward.
“No! Please! Don’t do this to me!” Clara sobbed, her voice cracking completely now.
She could hear a car door open.
Her heart raced uncontrollably.
She tried to pull away, but it was useless.
They shoved her inside.
She landed awkwardly on the seat, her breathing coming in fast, uneven bursts.
The door slammed shut.
The sound echoed loudly in her ears.
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Then—
Just before the car engine started, she heard her aunt’s voice again.
Calm. Almost casual.
“Be a good girl,” Aunty Catty said. “Your husband won’t like stubborn behavior.”
Husband.
The word shattered whatever was left of Clara’s strength.
Her body went still.
Her mind blank.
Then slowly… the reality settled in.
This wasn’t punishment.
This wasn’t anger.
This was something far worse.
She had been sold.
The car started moving.
And Clara sat there in the darkness, shaking, tears soaking into the cloth over her eyes…
Realizing that the life she knew was truly over.
The car didn’t stop.
Clara lost track of time not long after they left the house.
At first, she tried to count the turns, the bumps in the road, the changes in speed,anything that could give her a sense of where they were going. But it didn’t take long before her thoughts became too loud, too heavy to ignore.
The darkness under the cloth felt suffocating.
Every breath she took came out shaky.
Her hands rested stiffly on her lap, fingers trembling without control. She tried to steady them, but it was useless.
Everything felt out of her hands now.
Completely.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry and painful.
“Please…” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure who she was even speaking to anymore. “Please, just let me go…”
No one answered.
The men in the car remained silent, like she wasn’t even there.
Clara leaned her head back slightly against the seat, her body tense.
Her mind drifted.
Not forward.
Not to whatever waited for her at the end of this ride.
But backward.
To a time that felt like it belonged to someone else.
She was eight years old, sitting on the living room floor, her legs crossed as she struggled with a puzzle she couldn’t finish.
Her father sat beside her, watching with a soft smile.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said gently.
“I’m not!” she argued, frowning at the pieces.
He chuckled. “You are. Sometimes the answer is simple, Clara. You just have to look at it differently.”
She glanced at him, pouting. “Then help me.”
He shook his head, still smiling. “No. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”
She sighed dramatically… but a few seconds later, she placed the last piece correctly.
Her face lit up.
“I did it!”
“I told you,” he said, tapping her nose lightly. “My daughter doesn’t give up.”
A tear slipped down Clara’s cheek.
She let out a shaky breath.
“I’m trying, Dad…” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.
But this wasn’t a puzzle she could solve.
This wasn’t something she could figure out with patience or logic.
This was her life.
And it was falling apart in ways she couldn’t control.
Another memory surfaced.
She was older this time. Maybe sixteen.
Standing by the gate, waiting.
Her father walked out of the house, adjusting his watch.
- Writer
