Totally Ruined

Hillary's POV

“That's the girl I was talking about.”

A female student frantically taps on her friend’s shoulder and whispers as I step out of the elevator. She points at me, causing others in the dormitory lobby to stare.

Terrified by the alarming gazes, my steps slow, almost coming to a halt. The doubt and shock etched on their faces is evident they are talking about me. But about what?

Some eye between their phone screens and me, mouths agape, as though confirming a rumor, or fact. Whatever it is, it tears at my sanity.

Their breath-stealing gazes and hushed whispers spark a wild curiosity, and I hurriedly dip into my hand bag, fishing out my phone.

My breath hitches at the sight of the heart wrenching headline. My vision clouds with burning tears. My hands beneath my phone suddenly start to tremble. I lift my head, swinging at every perimeter, looking at their knowing gazes.

I look back at the screen, tears spattering against the glass.

My innocent father, Judge Gate was arrested for bribery, corruption, and case manipulation.

A sob tears out of me.

It's my fault.

My father wouldn't have been arrested if I hadn't slept with Lester, the alpha king of Crescent Pack, four months ago. If I haven't conceived his child.

I clutch my knotting chest, my fingers digging into my skin. Panic surges, and I run to the glass door, pushing through it and colliding with someone. 

“Hey.” Becky's voice is calm and girlish. She grips my arms. “I read about your father on the news. A…are you okay?”

My throat constricts. I barely manage to choke out, “I have to go.”

Her hands slip away as I dodge around and dash forward onto the walkway.

Whispers trail me, shocked stares burn on my back, but I ignore them, sprinting to the roadside and flagging down a taxi.

***

The driver pulls over.

I yank the door open to another dramatic view.

Agents dressed in black swarm my family home. Boxes are being hauled out and loaded into a truck already half full of our belongings.

“Where are you taking our things?” My voice is trembling. I dash to the loaded truck and grab the last box a female agent is lifting into the van. I'm shaking my head, tears streaming down my face. “Please…don't do this. Please.”

She exhales heavily. “I wish I could give them back, kid. But I'm going to lose my job and I've got mouths to feed.” With a sharp twist of her arms, my grip misses the box. She grunts. “Now, move. Let me do my job.”

Knowing it's pointless to fight, I stumble into the living room through the open front door.

Mom is pacing the length of the sitting area, her phone pressed to her ear.

Mom ends the call and opens her hands. “Come here, honey,”

“Mom.” Her name barely escapes my lips.

I crash into her embrace, wailing her name and pleading for forgiveness I don't deserve.

She's stroking my hair gently, whispering, “Shh. Don't blame yourself for any of this. None of these would have happened if we had listened.”

I pull back, my vision blurred with tears. “None of this would have happened if Lester had come earlier.”

Lester strung me along with a false hope he would come to me after speaking with his parents. I advised my parents against taking any legal actions, clinging to hope.

“Well…” Mom clasps my hands weakly. “It’s obvious he's not coming. The earlier you stop waiting on him, the better.”

Mom guides me to a white couch and carefully lowers me to it.

She sits next to me, holding my hand as she keeps patting the back. Her head is inclined. “Now, you know he's not coming, it's time…” She gazes up at me, and my heart squeezes at the words she's about to spill. “you let the pregnancy go. This pregnancy is too much. I can't imagine you living the life of a rogue.”

Tears streak her face and she wipes them away. “You…you can't do this alone. You…you can't raise a child all by yourself in a rogue village.”

Out of guilt of being the reason she's in so much pain, I struggle to nod, holding back my tears. “You’re right, Mom.”

“I'm so sorry it has come to this.” She cradles me, pressing my head to her chest and stroking my back gently. “And you don't have to get worried or scared, cause mom will be with you every step of the way.”

The engine truck roars outside.

“Why are they taking our stuff?” I ask softly.

Mom sighs softly. “They’re being confiscated for further investigation.”

“I’ll head upstairs to get some of the things we'll be needing,”she says, pushing to her feet.

“Why?” I grab her hand.

“Untill the investigation is over, we can't stay here.”

Three police officers step into the living room through the open front door.

“Can I help you?” Mom asks, forcing calm.

I stand slowly.

The handcuffs dangling from the lithe male officer’s hand makes my stomach churn.

“You're under arrest for being your husband's accomplice,” the officer says, approaching Mom with the cuffs.

“Let me make a call, please,” Mom implores, her voice trembling.

“Mom.” My voice is shaking. With heavy steps, I trudge forward, scared.

“Officer please,” Mom pleads again. “For the sake of my children, let me make this call.”

Hyperventilating, I ball my hands, extending them. “O…officer, take me instead, please.”

I can't live with the guilt my parents are spending their lives in prison. My sister will never forgive me, and I won't forgive myself either. I have to be the one imprisoned. I have to.

“Stay out of this.” The female officer among them puts my fisted hands away.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the male officer recites as he reaches for Mom's wrists, cuffing them one at a time. “and anything you say can and will be used against you in court.”

“Take me instead—” I cry, extending my hands the second time.

“Hey!” the female officer barks, interrupting me. With her palm flat on my chest, she pushes me backward. “Back off!”

“Sweetie.” Mom turns to me, tears shining in her eyes.

“Mom.” I'm struggling to breathe. My voice drowns in endless tears.

“Get your sister from school. Your aunt will come once she sees the news.”

“Mom.” Her name barely leaves my lips.

“Make sure you get rid of it,” she whispers, before the police officers drag her away.

I stand there, helpless, shattered, until I can't take it anymore. I run upstairs and pack the little I can, then gather my sister’s things too.

Back downstairs, luggages in my hands, I pause on the last step, frightened by the crushing aura that fills the room.

Clinton, Lester's father is in the living room. He might as well be the last person I'll lay my eyes on.

Luna, my wolf whimpers, urging me to flee.

Involuntarily, I retreat a step as he approaches, his strides deadly and dangerous.

My hands cross my chest. My head is inclined.

An envelope hits my chest and falls to the floor, and I flinch. My heart is racing.

“There’s a few dollars.” His voice is cold and intimidating. “I made sure your beloved-right-fighting-parents didn't leave you a dime.”

Despite his anguishing words, all I can feel is one thing, Fear. Trembling, I crouch and pick it up, cradling it against my pounding chest.

He scoffs, mocking my submissive instincts.

“I won't force you to get rid of that thing you call my grandchild,” he continues. “A submissive is not fit to bear my grandchildren. Keep it, and you'll die. Get rid of it, and you'll live.”

He turns away, leaving. “Either way, I get what I want.”

When he leaves, I sink onto the stairs, sobbing. His chilled words linger in my memory.

I might be afraid of him, but not death.

How can I be scared of dying when guilt is killing me? When the only way to please Mom is to get rid of my unborn i

nnocent child?

Maybe the only solution is to die with the unborn child.