Lady Raki (S1)

Chapter 2: Learning how to walk

I marched up to my room feeling a whirlwind of betrayal and confusion. The weight of the conversation with my parents hung heavily on my chest as I plopped down on my bed, engulfed in a sea of emotions. I couldn't decide if I should cry or just sink into the silence, wishing the world would disappear.

"Ray?" Brad's voice drifted through the doorway. I raised my eyes to meet his, summoning the same disdain I felt towards my parents. He stood there looking uncomfortable, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Please don't look at me like that, Ray. It hurts," he said earnestly, his expression unable to mask the concern behind his words.

"Did Axel send you?" I shot back, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

Brad hesitated, momentarily caught off guard before he stepped further into the room, an air of guilt surrounding him. "Ray... as harsh as it may seem, with you here, it might attract trouble for the family."

I scoffed as I looked away, only partly surprised by this revelation. "Way to salt the wound," I thought bitterly, desperately wanting to push him away.

He lowered his voice, a seriousness in his tone that cut through my anger. "A long time ago, your father was involved with a questionable group of people. In order to get away, he did things that, if they ever surfaced, could ruin us all."

"What does any of that have to do with me?" I snapped, frustration boiling within me.

"You are something they can use against us," he replied carefully, hesitance in his gaze.

"Something, huh?" I muttered, a mixture of disbelief and indignation coursing through me.

"You know that's not what I meant," he pressed, leaning closer as he crouched down, using my knee for balance. We weren't siblings, but his familiarity felt like a weight pressing down on me, reminding me of the life I was being forced into.

"So what about Sebastian?" I countered, seeking any glimmer of reprieve from this conversation.

"He's not the firstborn," Brad said as if that was sufficient justification.

"Why does that even matter?" I became more defiant, pushing back against the web they were trying to weave around me.

"There's more to this than you can understand. I just hope you can one day forgive me," he said, bowing his head slightly, his voice taking on an almost pleading quality.

Unable to meet his gaze any longer, I turned away, and a heavy silence settled between us. My heart was racing; anger was coursing through my veins like fire. I wanted to escape this claustrophobic reality.

After he left, I wasted no time gathering essentials into a backpack—cash, a change of clothes, my favorite oversized hoodie—but as I glanced at my phone sitting on the nightstand, I hesitated. What good would it do me? I didn't want to leave a trail, to allow them any chance of tracking me down. I grabbed the device, considered it for a fleeting moment, then tossed it back on the nightstand. This was going to be a clean break.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I slid open the window. The fresh morning air pinched my nose as I peered down at the newly trimmed bushes below. Gritting my teeth, I stuck one leg out, followed by the other, and tossed my backpack down onto the grass. The sound of it hitting the ground filled me with a mix of determination and dread.

I stared at the 15-foot drop, a wave of fear mingled with defiance swelling inside me. "I'd rather leave on my own than be sent away like this." It was now or never. With a swift push, I leaped off the window stool and landed heavily into the bushes below.