Chapter 5- Why Aren't You Packing Yet
AVA ~~
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling, my throat tightening with fear. My lips quivered as I stared at my uncle.
I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. This couldn't be real. He wasn't serious. He was drunk—he had to be joking.
"Please tell me you're joking," I whispered again, almost like a prayer.
"You're just trying to scare me, right?"
I looked around the room, trying to convince myself this was some kind of terrible dream. Maybe I was asleep. Maybe I passed out from the pain earlier and none of this was really happening.
I raised my hand slowly and slapped my cheek—soft at first, then again and again.
"Wake up, Ava," I mumbled.
"Wake up from it. This is just a nightmare. The Moon Goddess must have put you to sleep. This can't be real."
But everything around me was still the same. My uncle standing in front of me. That same evil smirk on his face. The smell of alcohol in the room. The heat. The pain.
I looked into his eyes, hoping—no, begging—for something. Even just a flicker of doubt. A sign he was lying.
"Uncle… look into my eyes and tell me it's not true," I said, stepping closer to him with tears clouding my vision.
"Tell me it's a joke. A prank. Please, I'm begging you."
I reached for his hand. I just wanted him to hold me for a second. I wanted him to pat my head and say, "Ava, you silly girl, of course I'm joking." I was hoping for that. Praying for it.
But instead…
CRACK.
He grabbed my head and slammed it hard against the wall.
"Ooooww!!" I screamed, falling to the floor as pain shot through my skull. The sharp, burning kind of pain that makes you feel like your brain is going to burst open.
The blood… it started gushing again. I could feel it dripping down my forehead, rushing past my nose, falling onto my torn dress.
"No… no, no, no!" I cried out, pressing my hand to my head, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wouldn't stop. It just kept coming.
I looked up at him through my blurry eyes, shaking.
"Uncle… why did you do that?" I asked, voice small, barely coming out.
"What did I do this time? Why would you bang my head and make me bleeding like that?"
He scoffed and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes like I was overreacting.
"Why are you acting like a big baby?" he said coldly.
"Why are you crying like it's a big deal?"
I blinked at him, stunned.
"You're not even supposed to bleed," he continued.
"If you were a proper wolf, if you were strong like the rest, a little hit like that would've made you tougher. But look at you—bleeding like a weakling. Crying like some helpless thing. That's why you're worthless."
His words pierced deeper than any punch or kick ever had.
"That's why I sold you," he said casually, like he was talking about a broken chair.
"Sold you off to the alpha of our pack. At least now you'll be useful for something. I get rid of your useless body and get paid too. Win-win."
I felt my heart crack again. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But my body wouldn't move.
I just stood there. Broken. My head throbbing. Blood dripping.
Another tear slid down my cheek, but even crying felt like too much work.
He looked at me and smirked again.
"Didn't you say you wanted to know if this was a dream?" he said, mocking my words from earlier.
"Well, what better way to prove you're not dreaming than slamming your head into the wall? At least now, you feel the pain, don't you?"
I couldn't say anything. Not a word. My mouth felt glued shut as I pressed my trembling hand against the cut on my forehead, trying to stop the bleeding. My vision was still blurry, and the taste of blood sat heavy in my mouth.
He just stood there, calm, like he hadn't just shattered what was left of me.
"Get ready," he said plainly, like it was a normal day. "They'll come to pick you up the day after tomorrow."
Then he went back to his chair, sat down, picked up that worn-out newspaper, and started reading.
I stared at him, broken. The pain in my head was nothing compared to the pain in my chest.
"Please…" I whispered. My throat was dry and my lips cracked. "I'm begging you. Not for me, but for the sake of my dead parents."
My voice cracked as tears rolled down my face again.
"Please think about them. Just for once. Think about how they'd feel… knowing you sold their daughter for money."
He didn't even look at me. He just smiled. That ugly, bitter smile.
"How would they feel?" he said mockingly. "I'll tell you how—they'd feel grateful. Grateful that someone finally took in their useless, good-for-nothing omega child who can't do anything right. They'd probably thank me for taking the burden off their shoulders."
My heart twisted painfully in my chest.
I dropped to the floor. I wanted to scream. I wanted to vanish. But all I could do was cry.
Even though I never got to know them… I was so sure—so sure—that if my parents were alive, they'd never let this happen. They would've fought for me. They would've protected me. They would've loved me.
But they weren't here. They were gone. And because of that, he could do anything he wanted to me.
And say every mean thing he wanted to say about them.
I looked up at him, still crying, still bleeding, still begging.
"You get to hurt me and get away with it… because the only people who would have protected me are not alive anymore."
He dropped his paper, looked straight into my soul, and spoke words I'll never forget.
"Exactly, Ava. They're dead. And even better? You're the one who killed them."
My whole body froze.
"What…?" I whispered.
"You heard me. You killed them. With your own hands. With your cursed birth. So no, they can't save you now." His voice was soaked in disgust. "Now, start packing those dirty rags you call clothes. You're leaving first thing in the morning, day after tomorrow."
That was when I knew.
He was serious.
He had really sold me off like an object. And nothing was going to change his mind.
Then, as if he hadn't stabbed me enough, he smirked again.
"You should be thankful," he said. "I thought you weren't worth a damn thing. But at least you sold for a little. So congratulations—you're not completely worthless."
I couldn't hold it in anymore. I dropped to my knees right in front of him.
"Uncle… please…" I cried. "Please, just tell me the price they paid. I swear—I'll work. I'll work ten times harder. I'll pay you back. I'll return the money in folds, I swear on my life. Just tell me how much they gave you for me."
He didn't even blink.
"I doubt you could make that much in your whole miserable life." His voice was cold.
The front the front door creaked open.
I turned around quickly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. I looked up and saw her—my aunt.
For a moment, my chest lifted.
She's here. She's going to stop him. She won't let this happen. She's always been quiet, but surely… surely she won't let her own niece be sold off like this.
I tried to smile. Tried to stand up.
But her eyes met mine.
"Why aren't you packing yet to get out of this house?"