It was already evening when I arrived home, exhausted while carrying the heavy load of logs on my back. But the first thing that greeted me was the sound of my parents arguing.

"Damn it, Emilya! The share should be equal," my father objected, slamming his fist against the wall. I heard the loud thud even from outside. "I won’t agree to that! I was the one who found the buyer!" my mother said fighting back against the will power of my father.

I set the logs down on the floor and took a deep breath. "What could they be fighting about this time?" I asked myself as I stepped closer to the doorway.

Yet my mind felt hazy, unsure if I should continue stepping inside. Because I’m for certainly sure that If I entered that house again, I would meet the abyssal hell where life is outmost lifeless.

Why does it feel so heavy? Why does it feel like my own body is stopping me from opening the door? Why do I feel this way?

"If you don't agree, I'll strangle you!" my father threatened. "Even if it costs our lives here, I'll only give you twenty percent," my father added.

What are they talking about? Why is it about money? And what are they selling?

I tried to hold back my tears. It hurt to hear my parents fighting over money again. And worse, I could hear everything. For the love of God, every time, I was going to be home, a greeted of toxicity is welcoming me, not a loving parent, who shall cherish me.

"Does Dad have debts again?" I asked sadly, knowing my father was addicted to gambling. Nearly all our belongings had been sold because of his worsening debt.

The same went for my mother; we were barely surviving, yet she still lived lavishly, far from her true financial state.

I tried to understand them, but half of me couldn’t accept what they were doing. They barely not realized the reality of life we have nor the truth that their child is doing a child labor from a very young age.

I tried not to cry---I tried to be strong, because having a weak foundation will bring into oblivion. Nevertheless, after a few more moments of listening to their argument, I slowly turned the door handle.

I can do this!

I encouraged myself as I gradually opened the door. When it finally swung open, shock spread across their faces. Yet in a blink of a second, they change moods being pretentious white sheep.

"Oh, you're home already!" my mother greeted me, her face frozen with surprise like she had seen a ghost. "H-how was gathering the logs?" she asked shakily both of her eyes can’t not even faced me.

My father followed up, his gaze strangely fixed on me. "H-have you eaten yet, Irish?" he asked enthusiastically, but it felt unusual since he never asked such unwavering things.

I stood in the middle, near the door, observing them both. Despite their odd behavior, I still gave them a smile.

My mother finally gave a gaze upon me with the eyes, thus far a very enthusiastic smile barely formed in her lips as she approached me. First and gently held my arm. "Come eat now, Irish," she invited warmly, her smile wide yet suspicious.

Meanwhile, my father turned his back to me and walked toward the room where we slept. But before he could step inside, he wore a strange smile—one that seemed to carry a deeper meaning. I felt confused by their actions, especially since they nevermore behaved like this toward me. I had my doubts, but what could I do? They were still my parents.

I decided to just go along with the river flow (scene) and let the moment pull me toward the dining table.

What got into them? I wondered.

"You shall eat know, Irish," my mother urged, pointing to the junk bread on the table. I glanced at table before shifting my eyes to her face to observe her reaction. "C-can I really, have it?" I asked nervously, since this had never happened before.

I glace aback from the table staring shot at the bread while having a heavy thought This isn’t normal! I pleaded to myself, fidgeting with my fingers.

"Of course, why? Don’t you want the bread?" she asked softly and polite. "I'm sorry if that’s all we could manage," she added calmly, which worried me more.

I cast a backward glance again towards to my dear mother with an Unadorned smile, then I took a deep breath before replying, "N-no, it’s okay--"

I stopped mid-sentence when two men suddenly entered our home.

Both were dressed in white tops and brown pants; their faces were covered. They looked armed, each carrying a rifle on their side. Those people didn’t look modest Inasmuch as they why are more likely a hunter nor Slave-trader.

Does my family owe these men money?

"Where's the kid, Emilya?" one of the men asked urgently.

I turned to my mother, watching her with concern as she smiled at them. I was shocked; who was this 'kid' they were talking about?

"That's her, isn't she? Beautiful child, right? She'll be a big help there," my mother replied to the two men before glancing at me. Her expression changed, darkening just like it did whenever I returned home from gathering logs.

I shifted my gaze to the sound of the bedroom door opening. Out came my father, carrying a cloth bag slung over his shoulder. "Oh, you’re already here."

My father greeted them like they were old acquaintances. "Perfect timing," he said cheerfully.

"Is this her? Is she the one?" the man asked again reassuring the identity of the person they’re looking for.

My father smiled before replying, "She is." He walked up to me and forcefully pulled me up from my seat. "Stand up, Irish, you have somewhere to go."

"P-pardon me Father?” I asked in shocked, “W-where are we going?" I implored innocently. "I-isn't it already midnight? And there's a strong snowstorm coming," I added, worriedly.

He didn't answer; instead, he dragged me forward with a force from his fist, vehemently making me stand up from my seat. I was baffled and scared with my father’s sudden aggression.

"D-dad? Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice trembling with fear.

What are they going to do to me? Where are they taking me?

So many questions raced through my mind, yet I had no answers because I was too afraid. I was pleading but the force of my father is much further than mine.

"Mom, p-please stop Dad," I pleaded, tears starting to fall. "M-mom, please stop him."

"Dad, where are you taking me?" I asked again.

"Dad, please stop this, Dad! Dad!" I kept calling him, but it was like he was deaf to my cries. I struggled to break free from his grip, but he was too strong.

When we reached the two-armed men, my father threw me making tumbled from the floor along with my belongings. To that tear wept from me, as the real persona of my family showed making the white sheep, transformed into wolf.

With the overbearing of those two-man, they shall immediately take an action, forcing me to stand up in a very rude manner way. No sympathy, no remorse, just casual man with brute.

"Take good care of the real's a fine one," my father said smugly.

One of the men handed over a bag, which seemed to be filled with money. Was money really all that mattered to them? Did they love money more than their own child?

"Mom, Dad! Did you really sell me?" I shouted at them, my tears flowing harder.

Have my parents really sold me? I whispered weakly to myself, biting my lip as I cried. I almost passed out from the reality but shall continue my merciful pleasing.

"Mom, Dad! Please, I'll work harder, Mom, Dad," I kept calling them, but it seemed they were deaf to my pleas.

With my last strength, even though the two man is griping my arm tightly, I tried to flee from them, making me free but crawling underneath floor till drawing near to my parents.

As I reach my mother’s own feet, I hug it tightly, then continuing my beseech. “Mom, don’t do this to me, I-I promised I will work hard all the money I can earn can be all yours just please don’t abandon me, e-even if I starve to die, I will work mom.” I meekly said with no pride left, just filthy peasant pleading his own mother.

As by then, my mother is very vexed in my moves. Making her lower herself to faced me in the floor, nevertheless, as the eyes of her and I meet a put out aggrieved expression is being foreseen.

Therefore, she forthwith grabs my chin using her left hand, then the other hand, landed on my cheeks making me sufferable in pain as that loud spike of slap reverberations in the room.

“Insolent child! Money is more important than you---you are just one of my pieces, peasant. If I indeed need more to create, I have the instrument to do I as I please.” My mother spoke with severity.

My whole world crush as words thuds me through my head, I can’t no more felt the pain from the slap of my beloved mother, instead it is my heart is in the pain.

I can bear the pain even if it’s physical, but the abandonment of a child is way more surreal than I could ever imagine, I can crawl, even overwork more than a present can do, however being sell into a random people is against my will.

Albeit I still my do my behest to plead, but in a split of second, a non-merciful, grip from my arms as been sense, and that aggression came from one of the men whom purchase me.

 So, then I sobbed loudly, calling out to them. "Mom, Dad! Please don’t sell me! Please don’t let money blind you."

They’re not only blind but also deaf, no single tears nor lament for their own child, they watch me powerless being pulled on the floor like an innocent pig not knowing what’s going to happened next.

“Silent!” The men shouted in irritation while pulling me from the outside of the house.

 Meanwhile, when door is open, I felt the cold wind from outside, I screamed even louder, trying to run back and beg my parents.

But as a girl, my strength was limited. I couldn’t break free from the man’s tight grip.

"Mom, Dad, please don’t sell m--" I stopped when I glimpsed the open door of our house. I saw my parents' faces filled with joy as they celebrated selling me.

When I saw that, my world seemed to collapse. I stopped crying, and sadness swallowed me whole. Yet no tears came out anymore. It felt like I had lost all my strength. I stood frozen, blankly dragged by the man.

When we reached the wagon, my expression remained the same---empty, and not a single tear escaped my eyes. My mind was heavy, and I felt all the pain weigh down on me.

It seemed that my parents had truly thrown me away. Parents who chose money over their own child.