I could barely breathe. The air felt thick, suffocating.
Maybe he was right all along. No one would ever want to be with someone like me—a woman who works in a place society despises, the kind they whisper about, the kind they call dirty. The words echoed in my mind, reinforcing my self-doubt and shame.
Hot tears continued to stream from my eyes, almost as if they wanted to burn away every trace of the pain I couldn't hide. The tears were a physical manifestation of my inner turmoil, a release of the pent-up emotions that threatened to consume me.
Why did it seem so hard to live a normal life? The question was a desperate plea, a longing for a life free from judgment and condemnation.
I didn't realize how long I had been here—in a place I didn't know, on a path I didn't know if there was any going back. I was lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty and fear.
"Hi, are you okay?"
A man's voice. Familiar. Like Damian's voice. When I turned to him, it was as if I begged the air to return to my chest. He looked like him—but his eyes were calmer, more serene. The resemblance was uncanny, but there was a distinct difference in their demeanor.
I remained silent. Was he here for my body too? The thought was a chilling reminder of my vulnerability, my objectification.
"Miss, don't look at me like that. If I'm not mistaken, you're Elaris, right?" His voice was gentle, reassuring.
I suddenly felt my heart pounding hard. I wasn't mistaken—this man had Damian's blood. The realization sent a jolt of fear through me.
"Relax," he said, smiling. "I'm not greedy for flesh. I've been seeing you cry for a while. You're new here, right? I heard Damian brought a woman." His smile was warm, inviting.
Under the sunlight, his blue eyes sparkled—quiet but with depth, like a sea that knows how to listen. His eyes were like a mirror, reflecting a sense of peace and understanding.
"Sorry, I've been talking too much," he said, with a soft laugh. "I'm Lucas—Damian's cousin." His laughter was light, melodic.
In his stance and words, I knew he wasn't like Damian. He wasn't dangerous. He exuded an aura of kindness and compassion.
"Elaris," I replied softly. My voice was barely audible, betraying my fear and uncertainty.
He smiled, as if he wanted to make me feel safe. "If you don't mind me asking, why were you crying earlier?" His smile was genuine, reassuring.
I stopped. Should I say it? But no matter how much I cried, it seemed the weight in my chest still wouldn't lessen. Could I trust him?
"Tears of pain," I whispered. "The world's just... unfair." The words were a confession, a glimpse into my inner turmoil.
He smiled, bitterly. "If life was perfect, there wouldn't be any thrill. That's the purpose, Elaris. Every pain is a test. When you overcome that, you can just say, 'life is beautiful.'" His words were a challenge, an invitation to find strength in my suffering.
I laughed dryly. "Maybe because you haven't experienced hardship. You're rich, you have money. You can do anything." My words were laced with cynicism, a reflection of my own disillusionment.
He shook his head. "Not everyone with money is happy. Poor or rich, it's the same. But if you lose to your pain—you lose. Life is a game of patience." His words were a revelation, a reminder that happiness is not dependent on material wealth.
I quietly looked at him. He had a point. There were words I seemed to be rejecting but were true. His words resonated with me, challenging my assumptions and beliefs.
"I have to go," he said as he stood up. "You can do it. Damian never brings weak people here. If you can't fight now, flee. But when you're ready—come back stronger." He offered me a path forward, a chance to find my own strength and resilience.
He slowly disappeared into the darkness of the woods, but those words remained with me, heavy but meaningful. His words were a beacon of hope, a reminder that I had the power to change my life.
If you give up, you lose. The thought was a challenge, an invitation to fight for my own happiness and freedom.
But before I could even move, a voice broke the silence again. The voice was a threat, a reminder of the danger that surrounded me.
"Why aren't you back yet?"
Damian.
I closed my eyes. I didn't want to hear him, but it was impossible not to. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating.
"Waiting for Lucas?"
I stopped. How did he know? His knowledge was unsettling, a sign that I was being watched.
He stepped closer, eyes dark with something dangerous. "Seems you like Lucas more than me. Did he touch you?" His jealousy was palpable, a threat.
The smirk on his lips was like poison. "Are you happier with him, hmm?" His words were a violation, a desecration.
I closed my eyes, suppressing my anger. Until—Whack!—my palm landed on his cheek. My anger finally boiled over, erupting in a moment of defiance.
"Not everyone is like you think," I hissed before hurrying away, running even if I didn't know where to go. The important thing—was to get away from him. I needed to escape his control, to reclaim my freedom.
My feet ached from walking, but I didn't care. I ran until I heard Manang Linda's familiar voice.
"Ela, are you okay?" she carried a pot of plants, as she approached and looked at my wounded feet. Her concern was genuine, reassuring.
"You're hurt!" she said, and immediately looked for medicine. "Sit here. We'll clean that." Her actions were kind, comforting.
I quietly followed. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to disappear from all of this. I longed for a life free from violence and fear.
"Child, where were you going?" Manang asked while cleaning my wound. Her voice was gentle, soothing.
"Just getting some air, Manang," I replied.
She sighed. "You and Damian aren't that different. He always comes home wounded too. Always beaten up, always with bruises." Her words were a revelation, a glimpse into Damian's troubled past.
My hair seemed to stand on end. "Manang... why is Damian like that?" I needed to understand him, to make sense of his actions.
"He used to be kind. He used to be sweet. Cheerful. But that changed when his girlfriend died. Since then, he and Ivelisse haven't been getting along. He became... ravenous. Always angry." Her words were a lament, a reflection of the pain and loss that had shaped Damian's life.
I was silent. So, there was a reason.
But even if there was a reason, what he did was still wrong. I couldn't excuse his behavior, no matter how much I understood his pain.
After she cleaned my wound, Manang escorted me to the room. There, I saw my cellphone on the small table, which I thought was broken. The phone was a lifeline, a connection to the world I had left behind.
It was open—and there was a message.
"Ela, where are you? Martha is very angry."
– Carla
I looked up. She called. Carla's message was a reminder of my responsibilities, my obligations to the people who cared about me.
"Finally, Elaris!" Carla shouted on the other line. "How are you? Are you okay?" Her voice was filled with concern.
"I'm okay," I lied. "How about you?" I didn't want to burden her with my problems.
Her voice lowered, almost a whisper. "Girl, there's an issue spreading about you. I'm annoyed at the newcomers here, because they're saying you're dirtier than them." Her words were a blow, a confirmation of my worst fears.
My tears fell. Damn it, Elaris, be strong. I needed to stay strong, to not let the negativity consume me.
"There are edited photos of you, sleeping with two older men. Spreading around the internet." She sighed. "But I don't believe it. I know you. They don't." Her faith in me was a source of strength.
I nodded even if she couldn't see me. "Thank you, Carla."
The call didn't last long. She needed to go back to work. I understood her obligations, her responsibilities.
After she hung up, I remained numb. Is this the price of trying to change my life? Was I destined to be forever defined by my past?
My cellphone rang again. Unknown number. I ignored it. But a few moments later, I heard Damian's voice outside, angry but laughing. His presence was a threat, a reminder of the danger that surrounded me.
"I don't care about those issues," he said. "I'm even happy those are spreading." His words were a betrayal, a confirmation of my worst fears.
I felt like I was doused with ice. Did he… have something to do with it? Was he responsible for the lies and the rumors?
My hands were shaking with anger. I wanted to shout, but no voice came out. I was paralyzed by fear and betrayal.
My cellphone rang again. Another message from the unknown number. The message was a threat, a warning.
'You chose the wrong side. That will be the way to destroy you — even your reputation.' The message was a chilling reminder of the power of my enemies.
I stared at the screen, while my heart started beating faster. Who was this? Who was trying to destroy me?