Rejected But Alive

The silence in the small, grimy room was a suffocating blanket, leaving Kaily alone with the phantom echoes of her mother's last words. The dim, swinging light bulb provided the only movement in her stark prison, its rhythmic sway a mockery of her stagnant life.

A distant bell chimed, a brief, harmonious respite before the thud of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile peace. Kaily curled inward, bracing for the inevitable. The cold metal door groaned open, revealing the guard's impassive face.

"Get up, whore, it's time to cook dinner," he snapped, his voice devoid of emotion. "Mr. Alexander is in a murderous mood tonight, so make it good." Kaily nodded silently, her bones protesting as she slowly pushed herself up, her matted hair falling around her like a ratty curtain. The guard's glaring eyes seemed to accuse her, reminding her of a guilt that gnawed at her soul. Every step was agony, her bare feet bumping against the stairs, leaving trails of blood, but she didn't wince. Pain was an old companion.

Thrust into the dining room, she kept her gaze down, scurrying to the kitchen, each movement a fresh spike of pain. The gleaming appliances offered a momentary, forbidden joy, quickly suppressed. She started the steaks, then turned to the tiered chocolate cake, meticulously decorating it, ignoring the cut from the knife—a minor sting compared to the daily torment. She finished the meal, retreating to a corner as the pack burst in, their boisterous laughter a stark contrast to her silent suffering. Their sudden quiet signaled trouble. A warm hand beneath her chin forced her gaze upward, into Mariana's icy blue eyes.