The Price On My Freedom

Kyra’s POV

By the time I reached the gate of our house, my legs weren't aching from the walk–only from the fear of being late.The sun had dipped lower. I could already picture my stepmother standing in the doorway.

Ever since I lost my mother, life had been very difficult , and my stepmother made it worse.

I slipped inside quietly, hoping she won't notice the exact time. Luckily, she wasn't outside, which meant she hadn't seen me arrive.

The air around my house was as cold as usual, a heavy feeling settled in my chest. As I stepped closer to the door, I heard an unfamiliar voice. Who is that? I asked myself. I moved closer, wanting to eavesdrop so I could know what was going on.

What I heard next shocked me.

“Marriage?”

“Who is getting married?”

Suddenly, everywhere went silent. Then I heard footsteps approaching the door, and I knew if I got caught, I would get into deep trouble.

I opened the door slowly as if I were being forced.

Walking inside, I greeted my stepmother and father as usual. I saw an old man about my father's age or perhaps even older looking at me in a strange way. I ignored his gaze and greeted him as well. My stepsister was not home yet; perhaps she was still in school, flirting with the guys as usual. She loved attention and was never in a hurry to come home.

I was about to proceed to my room when my stepmother stopped me.

What I heard next shocked me even more.

“You are getting married.”

I brushed it off because, in my mind, I thought she couldn’t possibly be talking to me. I took another step. Then she said again coldly, without any emotions, but with a loud voice.

Kyra!! “Didn't you hear me?”

“Who? Me……? Married?” "I asked, confused, looking around for the young man who was supposedly going to marry me."

She pointed to the old man. “This is your soon-to-be husband. He has come to ask for your hand in marriage.”

I laughed.

But Ariana didn’t.

I usually called her by her name because she doesn’t deserve to be called “mother.”

Wait.

She meant it.

She continued, “He has offered to give us five hundred dollars as a dowry just to get married to you. You should be happy that someone is paying this much to get married to you.”

She often taunted me, saying no one would marry a “dirt” like me.

I was still in shock, trying to recover from what I had just heard. My father sat there, staring as if he didn't know what was going on. I wasn’t expecting much from him, though. If possible, he could exchange his own life for money. He was that greedy.

“Start preparing yourself. The marriage is next week,” Ariana said again, her voice still cold.

I gave no reply. I simply walked away.

“Kyra, come back here!” she echoed behind me.

But I ignored her.

I reached my room, opened the door angrily, flung my school bag onto the bed, and locked my door to keep Ariana from getting in.

How could they? Was that all I was to them—just a thing to be used and sold off?

I screamed.

I've been a slave to them all my life, and now they want to marry me off without my permission, not just to anyone, but to an old man old enough to be my father.

I could neither cry nor laugh.

I just sat quietly, staring at the wall, thinking of what to do, but nothing came to mind. I had always thought of running away, but that wouldn't help; there is nowhere I could go.

Then suddenly, a thought came to me.

“What if I offered her the money?"

I knew Ariana was greedy, and she wouldn't even care where I got it from.

All she wanted was the money.

But where could I possibly get five hundred dollars? I wasn't even done with college, and I had no work experience. No one would let me work for them.

Another thought came: I couldn't afford to get married to that old man. Even though I knew it wasn't going to be easy, I would do whatever it took to get the money.

I proceeded to Ariana’s room. My heart was beating loudly inside my chest, and so many thoughts were going through my head. What if she doesn't agree? What if she laughs in my face?

Halfway there I saw Bella, my stepsister, stepping out of Ariana's room. "The trouble is back home," I thought to myself, probably after flirting with almost all the guys in the class. She was approaching me with her usual wicked smile; this time it was even wider. I guessed her mother had already told her what happened.

She got closer to me.

“The wife of an old man,” she said mockingly. Hope you're prepared to move out of this house."

I clenched my fist. I felt like hitting her hard, but if I did that, Ariana wouldn't spare me; she would most likely send me to the old man's house today itself. I wanted to leave, but Bella didn't let me; she kept on teasing me.

Finally, she stepped aside as soon as she saw Father approaching.

Everyone feared him, not because he was violent, but because he valued no one. The only thing he cared about was money. He could sell his own blood for it.

For once I was glad to see him.

I muttered under my breath, “He came at the right time,” and continued towards Ariana's room, my hands trembling as I reached for the doorknob.