The cab ride felt longer than it was. Every turn, every bump in the road scraped against Leigh's soul. She sat in silence, staring out the window, watching the city blur into colors she couldn't name anymore. Her fingers clutched the receipt like a talisman, as if letting go of it would make everything disappear.
But it wouldn't. Nothing could erase what Ervin said. Nothing could erase the truth.
When the cab finally pulled up in front of the old house she once called home, a storm of emotions surged in her chest. Hatred. Betrayal. Fury. Grief. And beneath it all, something worse—humiliation.
She didn't knock.
She slammed the gate open and marched up the porch steps like a woman on fire. The door creaked open with a push. The smell of stale cooking oil and cigarette smoke hit her like a wave. Familiar. Disgusting.
Her uncle was slumped in front of the TV, shirtless, a half-empty beer bottle in hand. Her aunt was at the dining table, cutting something on a chopping board like it was just another lazy afternoon.
"Wow," Leigh said loudly, her voice trembling not with fear but with rage. "So this is what silence costs. Fifty thousand pesos a month to pretend I didn't exist."
Her aunt barely looked up. "You're here," she said flatly. "Didn't expect you to come back."
Leigh let out a bitter laugh. "Of course you didn't. Why would I? I was already sold, right? No refunds, no returns."
Her uncle grunted. "Don't be dramatic. You're better off now, aren't you? Got yourself a rich husband, don't you? We gave you a future."
"You sold me!" she screamed, the words echoing off the walls. "You sold me to a man who never loved me. Who never even saw me as a person!"
Her aunt wiped her hands on a rag. "And? What were we supposed to do? Keep feeding a girl who wasn't even our child? We gave you food. A roof. Clothes. You owe us."
"I owed you?" Leigh spat. "I was a child! I needed protection, not to be handed over like merchandise!"
Her uncle stood, annoyed. "Don't act like you didn't benefit. You lived in luxury. We made sure you landed in a good place."
"You made sure you got paid," Leigh snarled. "You didn't care where I ended up. Just that the money came in every month."
Her aunt raised an eyebrow. "And now you're angry because you found out? Please. You think your tears change anything? You think your whining makes you better than us?"
Leigh's hands curled into fists. "I was seventeen! And you gave me away like I was nothing! You took that money every month without thinking twice about what it meant!"
"You were nothing!" her uncle shouted suddenly. "A burden. A mouth to feed. You think life's fair? We did what we had to do."
Leigh took a step back, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. "You had a choice," she whispered. "And you chose money."
Her aunt crossed her arms. "And if we had to do it again, we would. Because guess what? You were always going to leave, Leigh. Whether by force or by fate. You were never family. Just another expense."
That broke something in her.
Not just the girl she had been. But the hope—the tiny sliver of hope—that maybe, just maybe, they had cared.
Leigh stepped back, her eyes burning. "I came here thinking I'd find guilt. Maybe even regret. But you don't even have a conscience. You didn't just betray me. You erased me."
Her uncle sneered. "And yet here you are—wearing nice clothes, speaking big words. You should be thanking us."
She shook her head slowly. "No. I'm thanking myself—for surviving the monsters who raised me."
Without another word, she turned and walked away. She didn't slam the door. She didn't run.
She walked.
Because this time, she was leaving by choice.
Not as a girl sold.
But as a woman broken—and burning.
And she would never look back.
Not again. Never again.
When she came back home, Ervin was waiting.
His face was blank, but the sharpness in his voice could cut skin.
"Where have you been?"
Leigh hesitated in the doorway. Her clothes were dusty, her hands still trembling. "I just… needed air."
"You just left," he said, stepping forward. "No message. No word. Nothing. You disappeared."
"I didn't disappear," she said quietly.
"Then where the hell did you go?" His voice rose, laced with fury now.
"I had to do something."
"That's not an answer," he snapped. "You think this is a joke? You think you can just walk out and not tell me where you're going?"
"I didn't think I needed to report every step I take."
Ervin's jaw tightened. "You don't get to think like that, Leigh. Not here. Not with me."
Leigh met his eyes. "Then what do I get to do? Obey? Sit quietly? Pretend I'm happy?"
Ervin's hand shot up—so fast she flinched. But he didn't touch her. His fingers hovered mid-air, shaking.
He froze.
And in that moment, something shifted. His anger didn't disappear—it sharpened into words meant to wound.
"You really are ungrateful," he hissed. "I gave you everything. Shelter. Name. Safety. And still, you choose to act like a stray dog scratching at old wounds."
Leigh's breath caught. "You think this is about gratitude? They sold me, Ervin."
"And I bought you," he said coldly. "Because no one else wanted you. Because you were tossed aside like trash. I picked up the mess they left behind."
Her face paled.
He saw it—but didn't stop. "You think running back to them would change anything? You're not a family to them, Leigh. Just a transaction. And you? You're acting like a foolish little girl trying to find meaning in a lie."
Leigh stepped back, her voice shaking. "You don't get to talk to me like that."
"I do," he said flatly. "As long as you live under this roof, as long as you carry my name—you answer to me. You don't vanish without saying where you're going. Ever."
She turned her back to him, walking away without another word. Not because she was strong.
But because if she opened her mouth, her screams would tear her apart.
And still, even with everything she had discovered…
She wasn't free.
Not from them.
Not from him.
Not yet.