Disappearance: A broken Wing

What Now

"I can't believe we're going to be parents." Hito's voice dripped with satisfaction as his hand caressed my bare stomach. His touch made my skin crawl. "The injection won't wear off for another eight hours, but don't worry, love. I'll take good care of you."

Hito left the room briefly and returned with a wheelchair. "First things first. We need to get you cleaned up." He scooped me up effortlessly and carried me to the tub. The water ran hot as he slowly deliberately washed every inch of me. When his hands reached my thighs, he slowed down even more, creeping upward like he wanted to savor every second. I wanted to vomit.

"All done, love. Let me get some clothes for you." He finally stepped out of the bathroom, leaving me alone in the tub.

That's when I felt my body start to slip under the water. My muscles were still too weak from the injection—I couldn't stop myself. I sank, deeper and deeper, until my head was submerged. I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. My chest burned as water filled my nose and mouth. Maybe this is it, I thought. Maybe this is my way out.

But then Hito came back. His hands yanked me out of the water like I was nothing more than a rag doll. "Naughty girl," he said, smirking. "You could have killed yourself—and our child. We don't want that, do we?"

Actually, that didn't sound so bad. But I didn't say it out loud.

Hito dressed me in a thin white tank top that clung to my wet skin, turning transparent, and pulled shorts over my hips. I felt exposed, humiliated. He placed me in the wheelchair and rolled me out like I was his prized possession.

We stopped in the kitchen. That's where I saw Baxton.

He was on his knees, scrubbing the floor with a rag. His face was battered—bruises swelling across his jaw, a cut splitting his lip. He didn't look at me at first, but when he did, his eyes told me everything: he was relieved I was alive... but also broken by guilt.

"Baxton," Hito barked, "when you're done here, go clean my room with a toothbrush."

"Yes, sir," Baxton muttered, his voice flat.

My chest ached watching him. He didn't deserve this.

"Time for us to eat, my love," Hito said, snapping my attention back to him. "After all, you're carrying my child." He made a sandwich and shoved it into my hands like it was a prize. I forced myself to eat because I didn't have the strength to fight. If I didn't have family waiting for me, I'd have ended this nightmare myself a long time ago.

After feeding me, Hito dragged me back to his room. He insisted on watching a movie, but most of his time was spent pawing at me, kissing my skin like I belonged to him. I stared at the ceiling, silently wanting myself to be anywhere but here.

Then I felt it—movement in my toes.

I wiggled them slightly. The feeling was coming back. Slowly, I tested my fingers, my legs. My body was mine again.

I glanced at Hito. He was knocked out. Thank God.

Quietly, I rolled to the edge of the bed. My body crashed to the floor, but he didn't stir. I bit down on my lip and used the wall for support, forcing my body to stand. Step by step, I regained my balance. I needed to see Baxton.

I found him in the basement. He looked up, and for a second, his expression lit up with shock and relief.

"Hey," I whispered.

Baxton froze, his eyes wide. "Kara..."

"Are you not happy to see me?"

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking.

"Sorry? For what?"

"Because of me, you couldn't escape. And now you're... pregnant." He spat the word out like it was poison.

"I still have hope," I said firmly.

"Hope? Kara, you're never leaving this place. Don't you get it?"

"As long as I'm breathing, I'll never give up."

Baxton shook his head, frustrated. "I don't understand you."

"Most people don't," I replied softly.

He looked down, his fists clenched. "Kara... I don't think we should talk anymore."

My heart cracked. "What? Why?"

"My uncle made it clear he'll hurt anyone to get what he wants. I... I can't watch him hurt you because of me. We can't be seen together. We can't talk. I'm sorry."

I swallowed hard, forcing down the pain in my chest. "Fine. I guess this is goodbye."

"I guess it is," he whispered.

I turned and walked upstairs. I didn't let him see the tears falling down my face. I couldn't.

But at that moment, I knew one thing: if I wanted to leave this hellhole, I was going to have to do it on my own.