TBL-1 2

Silence greeted Eirene when she arrived home. The house felt lifeless, dimly lit with only the faint glow of the living room lamp to illuminate it. The house felt hollow and empty, allowing the sound of the rain outside to fill the space. Usually, the soft patter against the roof was calming, but that night it felt unbearably suffocating.

Eirene walked in sluggishly, her steps heavy. The air inside was stale, cold and distant.

From the family room came the faint sound of a television, though no one was really watching. Heston Ravenor was sitting on the couch, still wearing his work shirt, while Isabella Walsh was standing near the table, holding a cup of cold tea. They both turned at the same time when Eirene appeared.

“Eirene?” Isabella called, her brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re home? How’s Daisy?”

Eirene froze for a moment, her chest tightening as she shifted her gaze between them. “Daisy?” she repeated softly, the word feeling heavy on her tongue.

“Is she awake?” Heston asked, not looking at her. “The doctor said the transfusion went well, but I’d like to be certain.”

Eirene just stared at them—at Isabella, then at Heston. Her eyes trembled with disbelief. The first thing they asked about wasn’t her. She had just given away her blood; her body was still weak and her heart was broken—and yet none of that seemed to matter.

“Why do you ask about Daisy first?” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the rain. “Don’t you want to know how I’m doing?”

Isabella lifted her head, frowning. “Of course you’re fine,” she replied curtly. “You're standing here, aren't you?”

Eirene's heart thumped in pain at the words. It felt as though a blade were slowly piercing her chest. She swallowed the bitterness in her throat as her vision blurred with tears.

“Enough!” Heston stood up abruptly and snatched the car keys from the table. “I’m going to the hospital. I’ll bring Daisy home.”

Heston was almost at the door when he heard a soft, bitter and broken laugh that shouldn’t have escaped Eirene’s lips. His steps halted. He turned around.

Eirene covered her face with one hand. Her shoulders trembled, as if she were torn between crying and laughing louder. Isabella and Heston both stared at her in confusion.

“Eirene?” Isabella frowned, puzzled.

Eirene lowered her hand; tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “You don't even see me,” she whispered. “I just donated my blood again—for Daisy, for the umpteenth time—and yet none of you cared to ask how I was doing.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Heston groaned, exhaling sharply. His tone carried more annoyance than concern. “Daisy is sick. Of course you should help your sister.”

“Sister?” Eirene repeated the word with a strained grimace. Then her voice rose, trembling with disbelief. “Is she really my sister?”

Shock flashed in Isabella’s eyes. She looked utterly stunned. Meanwhile, Heston just stared back at Eirene, his expression unreadable.

Isabella cleared her throat. “Eirene, what do you mean?”

“I think you already know what I mean, Mom,” said Eirene, her face etched with hurt. “Daisy told me. She said I’m not your real daughter.”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “That Daisy,” she muttered under her breath. “Why would she say something like that to you?”

Eirene whimpered. “So, it’s true?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Is what Daisy said true?”

Isabella swallowed hard and looked uneasy. Her eyes darted towards Heston as if pleading for help. “Of course that’s not true, Eirene,” she stammered. “You’re our daughter. Don’t take Daisy’s words seriously. You know how she jokes sometimes. She just—'

“Enough, Isabella,” Heston interrupted calmly. “What’s the point of lying? She already knows the truth.”

“Heston!” Isabella gasped, panic flickering in her eyes.

“She’s not our daughter,” Heston continued, his tone devoid of emotion. He spoke as if it were nothing; as if those words didn't shatter someone's world. “There's no use hiding it anymore. She was bound to find out sooner or later.”

“You’re right, but…” Isabella faltered, struggling to speak. “Not like this...”

Heston let out a faint scoff. “The truth can’t be denied. Besides, she should understand her place by now. She should be grateful that we saved her as a baby. If we hadn’t, she would have been dead a long time ago.”

Every sound inside Eirene’s head vanished. Everything blurred, leaving only the echo of that one sentence: “She’s not our daughter.”

Eirene’s knees buckled. Her body trembled as though all her strength had been swallowed by a void opening inside her chest.

“No wonder,” Eirene whispered painfully. “No wonder you’ve always loved Daisy more than me. You never cared, not even when I was ill after giving her my blood. You’re both cruel... so cruel.”

Isabella shifted anxiously, wanting to speak, but Heston’s cold, sharp voice cut through the air again.

“Cruel? You ungrateful child!” Heston snapped icily, his tone devoid of remorse. “Think about it. You would have suffered far worse if we hadn’t taken you in. Out there, you would have starved to death. But we gave you a home, food and an education. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Eirene glared at Heston, her voice trembling with fury. “None of that was ever free, was it?” she retorted bitterly. “You've been tormenting me since I was a child. Looking back now, I realise that you made me work for everything. I paid for everything you gave me with my sweat and tears.” Her chest tightened and her breath became heavy as the storm of emotion building inside her grew stronger. “You never gave me love.”

Heston snorted. “You demand too much, Eirene. Do you know what? We actually wanted to throw you out when Daisy was born.”

“Heston!” Isabella gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “Stop it!”

But Heston didn’t stop. His words only grew crueller. “You should be grateful Daisy fell ill—and that your blood could heal her. Otherwise, we truly would have got rid of you back then.”

Eirene was struck by the words like a storm, knocking the air from her lungs. Bitterness surged through her veins until she was numb.

Eirene stared at Heston and Isabella for a long moment, her eyes hollow. Then, slowly, a broken smile curved her lips—a fragile mask over deep wounds. “So, tell me,” She whispered. “Did you give me life... or have I been paying for it with my blood?”

Heston fell silent. For once, he had no answer. And that silence hurt far more than any words could.

Eirene took a deep breath, fighting back the sobs rising in her throat. “Fine then,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll leave this house.”

Isabella took a hurried step forward, panic flashing in her eyes. “Eirene, don’t be foolish. You—”

“We’ll see,” Eirene cut her off, not looking back. “Whether I can’t survive out there, or whether Daisy can’t survive without my blood.”

Eirene turned and walked away. Her steps were steady, even though her body shook with exhaustion and grief. She ignored Heston's and Isabella's calls, never once stopping.

The door swung open wide. The grey night greeted her and the cold air bit sharply into her skin.

The rain poured down harder, spilling thousands of watery needles onto the ground and drowning out all other sounds. Eirene ran towards the car parked in the yard, her steps unsteady and desperate. She fumbled with the handle, opening the door with trembling hands. Her breathing became shallow and broken by sobs that caught in her throat repeatedly.

The headlights flared to life, cutting through the darkness and the thin fog hanging heavily in the air. The windscreen wipers moved sluggishly, sweeping away the relentless rain that showed no signs of stopping.

Eirene gripped the steering wheel tightly. She tried to steady her breathing, but inside her chest, something had already shattered—something that could never be mended again.

In the rear-view mirror, the faint silhouette of the house was still visible—a place that had once meant safety, but which was now cold, unfamiliar, and even terrifying. She stared at it one last time before pressing her foot down on the accelerator.

The car sped forward, slicing through the storm and the darkness. The sound of every raindrop striking the windscreen echoed in her mind like whispers she couldn’t escape.

“She’s not our daughter.”

“She should be grateful that we saved her as a baby.”

“You should be grateful Daisy fell ill—and that your blood could heal her. Otherwise, we truly would have got rid of you back then.”

Eirene bit her lip, trying to silence the echoes, but they wouldn’t stop. Heston’s words looped endlessly in her mind.

Her emotions boiled over. She clenched her fingers tighter around the wheel until her knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision—just like the rain that fell harder and harder outside.

The road gleamed slick beneath the downpour. Streetlights shimmered on the wet asphalt like shattered glass.

Eirene pressed her foot harder on the accelerator, either to flee from the pain or to prove that she could still control something—anything—even if it was just a car in the middle of a storm.

“It's all because of my blood,” Eirene whispered faintly. “You live because of my blood.”

Eirene’s voice was drowned out inside the cabin by the roar of the engine and the pounding of the rain on the roof. The more she wiped her tears, the blurrier her vision became.

A glimpse of her childhood flashed before her eyes. Memories surfaced: little Eirene sitting in the kitchen with dirty hands from washing up, Isabella scolding her for breaking a glass, and Heston saying coldly, “You need to learn to be useful.”

Then came the image of Daisy, a tiny baby crying in a hospital crib. Eirene was only seven years old at the time, standing by the doorway and overhearing the doctor say, “Her blood type matches. She can save Daisy.”

Everything spun rapidly, like a broken reel of film. Each memory became a jagged scar, replaying mercilessly in her mind.

“Fine,” Eirene rasped through her tears. “I'll prove that I can live without you.”

Eirene’s foot pressed harder on the accelerator. The speedometer needle climbed higher as the rain battered the windscreen even more violently, as though trying to stop her. But she didn’t slow down.

At a sharp bend in the road, a violent gust of wind tore through the air. Trees swayed wildly on both sides. The headlights of an oncoming car flared suddenly, blinding her for a moment.

Something glinted on the road ahead—perhaps a pool of water or a fallen branch. Instinctively, Eirene jerked the steering wheel. The tyres skidded on the slippery asphalt. The windscreen wipers flailed uselessly as the world before her dissolved into a grey and white haze.

The screech of tyres tore through the night, followed by a violent crash. The car spun twice before slamming into the guardrail, veering off the road and crashing into wet shrubs and young trees.

The final impact threw Eirene's head against the window. A sharp pain exploded behind her eyes and her vision dimmed instantly.

For a moment, the world went silent. Only the sound of the relentless rain tapping on the crushed metal remained, mingling with the faltering sound of the dying engine.

Eirene tried to lift her hand, but her body felt unbearably heavy. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. The sharp scent of metal and petrol filled her nostrils. Shattered glass glittered faintly on her left in the dim light, its fragments clinging to her skin.

Eirene fought to stay conscious. Her eyes fluttered open, but her eyelids felt as though they were made of stone.

Through the thickening haze, a faint sound reached her ears: hurried footsteps splashing through puddles, followed by a man’s voice shouting against the rain.

“I found her, Alpha!”

Alpha. That one word pierced through the fog, jolting her memory. It was the same word she had heard earlier at the hospital. The same voice.

Eirene stirred weakly, trying to turn her head, but pain locked her in place. “Alpha?” she whispered hoarsely.

Eirene forced her eyes open wider. Through the cracked windscreen, she could see a figure—a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette dressed in a black, rain-soaked suit. Alpha Yoren?

The man approached. His face was still hidden in the blur of lightning flashes, but even through the rain-streaked glass, his gaze was sharp and commanding.

He grabbed the car door and pulled. The hinges screeched before the door swung open halfway. The storm rushed in—cold air, water and the raw scent of earth.

Eirene groaned, her strength fading fast.

The man leaned closer, his hand on her shoulder firm yet gentle. “Easy,” he said softly. His voice was low and steady, but there was warmth in it, something that wrapped around her fading consciousness like a promise. “You’re safe now. You’re with me.”

Those were the last words Eirene heard before the world slipped into darkness.

*