Chapter Two
1024 Words
“The rain had stopped… but the cold hadn’t.”
It clung to my skin, seeped into my bones, and refused to let go as I slowly forced my eyes open. For a moment, I didn’t move. I just lay there on the wet ground, staring up at the dull grey sky, my body too heavy to respond.
Then it all came rushing back.
The words.
The deal.
Three days.
A sharp breath hitched in my throat as I pushed myself up, my arms trembling under my weight. Pain shot through my back instantly, the memory of the whip still fresh, still burning.
I clenched my teeth and forced myself to stand.
The house stood right in front of me.
Quiet.
Still.
Like nothing had happened.
Like I hadn’t spent the night outside in the cold.
Like I didn’t exist.
For a second… I just stared at it.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Maybe someone would open the door.
Maybe—
Nothing.
A bitter laugh slipped past my lips.
“Of course.”
Pulling what little strength I had left, I walked toward the door and pushed it open.
No one greeted me.
No one even looked up.
My stepmother sat comfortably on the couch, flipping through her phone, while my stepsister lounged beside her, lazily chewing gum like she didn’t have a care in the world.
As if I hadn’t just been thrown out like trash.
Their eyes flicked toward me briefly.
Then away.
Dismissive.
Like I wasn’t worth the attention.
“Since you’re finally done acting like a stray,” my stepmother said without looking up, “go clean the kitchen. It’s a mess.”
I stood there, dripping water onto the floor, my clothes clinging to my skin.
No apology.
No acknowledgment.
Just orders.
My fingers curled slightly at my sides.
For a moment, I thought about refusing.
Thought about walking away.
But then—
Three days.
The reminder hit hard.
Without a word, I turned and walked toward the kitchen.
If this was my last time in this house…
I wasn’t going to waste it fighting battles that didn’t matter.
The kitchen was exactly what she said it was… a mess.
Dirty plates piled high, food scraps left to rot, the smell enough to make anyone gag.
I stared at it for a second.
Then I got to work.
Hours passed.
Washing.
Scrubbing.
Sweeping.
Each movement sent dull aches through my body, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t complain. I didn’t speak.
Not when my stepsister walked in just to knock something over for me to clean again.
Not when my stepmother added more chores like she suddenly remembered I existed.
Laundry.
Floors.
Dishes again.
It didn’t stop.
And through it all…
My father never once looked at me.
He stayed in the living room, silent, distant, like I was already gone.
Like I meant nothing.
That hurt more than anything else.
But I didn’t let it show.
I couldn’t afford to.
Because with every passing hour…
One thought kept growing stronger.
I wasn’t going to stay.
Night came faster than I expected.
Or maybe I was just waiting for it.
The house had finally gone quiet. Lights turned off one by one, doors closing, footsteps fading until there was nothing left but silence.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the small bag in front of me.
It wasn’t much.
A few clothes.
Some money I had managed to save.
Nothing else.
Nothing tying me down.
My gaze drifted to the door.
Then to the window.
Then back to the bag.
My heart started to race.
“This is it.”
If I stayed…
They would come.
And when they did…
There would be no escape.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of the bed.
“No… I’m not going to wait for them.”
I wasn’t going to stand there and let them take me like I had no say in my own life.
“If they want me… they’ll have to find me.”
Slowly, I reached for the bag and slung it over my shoulder.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
The air heavier.
Like it was trying to hold me back.
I stood up anyway.
My steps were quiet as I moved toward the door, every sound in the house amplified in my ears.
One wrong move…
And everything would be over.
I paused, my hand resting on the handle.
For a second, doubt crept in.
“Where would I even go?”
“How far could I get?”
“The Obsidian Circle…”
Everyone knew what happened to people who crossed them.
No one ran from them.
No one escaped.
My hand tightened.
Then I exhaled slowly.
“I’ll try.”
I opened the door.
The hallway was dark, silent.
Good.
Carefully, I stepped out, closing the door behind me without a sound.
Each step felt heavier than the last as I made my way through the house. Past the living room. Past the kitchen. Past everything that had once been familiar.
It didn’t feel like home anymore.
It hadn’t for a long time.
Reaching the front door, I stopped.
“This is it.”
Once I stepped out…
There was no going back.
Not that there was anything left for me here anyway.
My fingers wrapped around the handle.
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
I opened it.
The night air hit me instantly, cool and sharp against my skin.
“Freedom.”
Or at least…
“The illusion of it.”
I stepped outside, my heart pounding as I moved forward, ready to run, ready to disappear into the darkness before anyone could stop me.
Then—
Headlights flashed across the street.
Bright.
Blinding.
My body froze.
Slowly… I turned.
A black car sat parked just a few meters away.
Engine running.
Windows tinted.
Waiting.
My breath caught in my throat.
“No…”
“No, no, no…”
“They weren’t supposed to come yet.”
“It wasn’t time.”
The car door opened.
And in that moment…
I knew.
“They came early.”
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