KAIRA.
I sat alone in the massive living room, on the edge of the leather couch.
There was no sound, except the ticking of the clock somewhere behind me and the sound of my own breathing.
My throat still burned from the pressure of Halston’s hand.
I stared at the envelope I held on my lap.
The envelope sat there like it weighed more than it should, marred by a smear of my parents’ dried blood and a fresh drop of my own from where my lip had split against the wall.
My hands shook so much that I had to press them against my thighs to make them stop.
I didn’t want to open it.
I wanted to believe Halston was a liar, that he had forged the contract, that he was trying to sabotage my parents, that my father was the hero I thought he was.
But the handwriting on the front of the envelope was unmistakable, it was my father’s elegant handwriting I had always admired.
I tore the seal, pulled out the paper and began to read.
With every line, the grief that had been suffocating me began to evaporate, replaced by anger.
________________________________________
Kaira,
By now, you already know.
Yes, we made the deal.
Yes, we gave you to him.
And no, I will not lie and pretend it was anything else.
You were exchanged, and I know that is something you may never forgive.
There are decisions a parent makes knowing they will be hated for them.
This is one of ours.
The world is not a kind place, and survival sometimes asks for things that are unforgivable.
This time, it asked for you, and I would pick my survival.
I will not ask you to understand it.
I will not ask for forgiveness and I will not insult you with apologies I know means nothing.
From here, you must learn to survive on your own.
Blackstone was never a city you liked.
Your mother always said you complained about it too much when you schooled there, and said it was far from home.
Chariot Street lights were the only thing you adorned in it.
That was the area that glowed like it wasn’t part of that sickly city.
You are back again to that city.
I assume Cornveil, the capital, is a better place, regardless, I hope you do find time to adore those street lights and I hope you can find solace under them.
Houses there were always shabby looking but I do hope his house in the capital is comfortable enough for you.
Five years to come, you would have learnt survival is always greater than love.
Live well.
Father.
________________________________________
I read it once, then the second, each time I read it, it hurt worse.
I waited for “I love you.” for the “We had no choice.” But it wasn’t there.
He had traded my life, my future like I was furniture, like a property to be sold.
I stared at the letter until the words blurred.
I remembered Halston’s voice: Your father betrayed mine.
Your father chose himself.
I didn’t want to believe the letter, I didn’t know what to believe.
Has my father always been like this?
Has he always been someone who chose survival over people?
“No…” The word came out weak.
I shook my head like it would be possible to physically throw the thought away.
That couldn’t be him, that couldn’t be my father, who fixed broken shelves wrongly and acted like it was engineering, who made terrible coffee and danced with my mother in the kitchen when he thought no one was watching, that man could not be the same man who wrote this.
A thousand questions wrecked through my mind like a storm.
Why?
Why would they do this?
Why did they need money badly enough to sell me?
Why were they killed even after the deal?
If they sold me to survive, why didn’t they survive?
None of it made sense.
I pressed the letter to my chest and cried, the kind that leaves your body shaking, the kind that leaves you with no dignity.
By the time I made it upstairs, I felt like a ghost wearing my own skin.
I shoved the letter into the back of the bedside cabinet, slamming it shut.
Lying on the bed, I stared at the ceiling.
Memories became like punishment.
I remembered my mother brushing my hair when I was little, my father teaching me to ride a bike, my parents standing amongst the front row, smiling and cheering for me while I collected my degree award.
Remembering the thanksgivings, birthday celebrations, ordinary things that made us the perfect family.
Or maybe not perfect, maybe fake, maybe I had spent my entire life living inside a carefully built lie.
The thought made me sick.
I turned onto my side and let the tears fall quietly this time.
The sun moved across the floor, marking the hours I spent paralyzed by the weight of the betrayal.
But as the shadows lengthened, the crying stopped.
Tears weren’t going to bring them back, tears weren’t going to answer to my questions or make Halston Redd let me go.
And tears certainly weren’t going to help me survive.
If survival was the only thing that mattered in this world, then I was going to be the best at it.
I sat up and wiped my face with the back of my hand.
My eyes were red, my skin sallow, but my mind was stronger.
I wasn’t spending another night in this house and if Halston thought I would stay here quietly and break for him, he was about to be disappointed.
The rest of the day, I watched silently and carefully.
Every guard shift, every camera angle, every locked door.
I memorised it all.
The kitchen back door was the best option, it had just one lock and it looked easy enough to open.
Once the chefs retired for the night and the staff went to their quarters, the kitchen would become a dead zone for ten minutes during the guard shift change.
I sat by the window as night slowly approached, watching the sky turn darker.
Tonight, I either escape or I die trying.