AVA’S POV
Monday couldn't come fast enough, but at the same time, I dreaded every hour that passed. The weekend crawled by in a blur of anxiety and second-guessing myself.
By the time I walked into Professor Thorne's lecture hall on Monday morning, I felt like a completely different person than I'd been a week ago.
I'd barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elise's scared face or imagined what would happen to me in just a few hours. The email from L.M. had arrived that morning with the final details – address, timing, what to expect. It all felt surreal, like I was reading about someone else's life.
Professor Thorne stood at the front of the class, looking as intimidating as ever in his perfectly tailored black suit.
But today, something felt different about the way he looked at me. When our eyes met as I took my seat, there was an intensity there that made my stomach flip.
"Today we're discussing the commodification of human experience in Victorian literature," he announced, his voice carrying easily through the lecture hall. "How writers like Hardy and Gaskell explored the ways people become products to be bought and sold."
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, about to literally become a commodity, listening to a lecture about fictional characters who'd done the same thing.
"Miss Moreau," Professor Thorne's voice cut through my thoughts like a blade. "Since you seem particularly contemplative today, perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts on Tess's transformation from innocent country girl to fallen woman."
Every head in the room turned to look at me. I felt heat creep up my neck, but for once, I didn't feel like shrinking into my seat. Maybe it was knowing that in a few hours, I'd be doing something that would change me forever. Maybe it was the desperate need to save my sister. Whatever it was, I found my voice.
"I think Tess never really had a choice," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "Society created a system where women like her had limited options. When circumstances forced her hand, people judged her for doing what she had to do to survive."
Professor Thorne's eyebrows rose slightly. "Interesting perspective. So you believe she bears no responsibility for her choices?"
"I think responsibility is a luxury people have when they actually have options." My voice grew stronger. "Tess was backed into a corner by forces beyond her control. When survival is at stake, moral purity becomes... irrelevant."
A murmur ran through the classroom. I'd never spoken this boldly in his class before, and everyone could tell something had shifted.
"How conveniently modern of you," Professor Thorne said, but his tone wasn't dismissive like usual. It was thoughtful, almost... impressed? "You're suggesting that desperation justifies abandoning one's principles?"
"I'm suggesting that principles are easy to maintain when you're not facing impossible choices." I leaned forward in my seat. "Hardy wasn't condemning Tess for her decisions. He was condemning a society that forced her to make them."
"And yet," Professor Thorne moved closer to my row, his dark eyes fixed on mine, "once those choices are made, they cannot be unmade. Tess's innocence, once lost, was gone forever. The question becomes whether the price was worth paying."
His words hit me like a physical blow. The way he said it, the intensity in his voice – it felt like he was talking directly to me, not about some fictional character from a hundred years ago.
"Sometimes the price is the only thing standing between you and losing everything that matters," I replied quietly.
The lecture hall was completely silent. Professor Thorne stared at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face.
Then he turned away and continued with the lesson, but I could feel his attention on me for the rest of the class.
When the lecture ended, I gathered my things slowly, still shaken by our exchange. My bag was overstuffed with all the nervous energy packing I'd done that morning, and as I stood up, several papers scattered to the floor.
I scrambled to pick them up, but Professor Thorne was faster. He bent down and collected the papers, his long fingers gathering them efficiently. But he stopped when he saw what was mixed in with my class notes.
The auction brochure.
It was elegant and discreet – just a black card with gold lettering that said "Exclusive Private Event" and tonight's date. To anyone else, it would look like an invitation to some fancy party. But I saw recognition flash in Professor Thorne's eyes as he read it.
My heart stopped. He knew. Somehow, he knew exactly what it was.
For a moment that felt like an eternity, we both stayed frozen – him holding the brochure, me staring at him in horror. The rest of the students filed out around us, but it felt like we were alone in the world.
Slowly, Professor Thorne straightened and held the brochure out to me. His fingers brushed mine as I took it, and the contact sent an electric shock up my arm. His touch was warm, gentle, completely at odds with his usual cold demeanor.
"Be careful what you give away," he said softly, his voice so low only I could hear it. "You can't get it back."
The words sent a chill down my spine. There was something in his tone – warning, sadness, maybe even... concern? His gaze held mine for another moment, and I saw something raw and complicated in those dark eyes.
Then he stepped back, the professional mask sliding back into place.
I shoved the brochure into my bag and practically ran from the lecture hall, my pulse hammering in my ears.
How did he know? What did he know? And why did he look at me like that – like he was seeing something that hurt him?
I was so distracted that I didn't notice Sophie waiting for me outside the building until she grabbed my arm.
"Ava!” She pulled me aside, away from the stream of students. "We need to talk."
"Sophie, I can't right now. I have to—"
"Are you really doing it?" Her voice was urgent, worried. "The thing tonight. Are you actually going through with it?"
I looked at my best friend – the only person who knew what I was about to do, the only one who'd stood by me through this whole nightmare. Her face was full of concern and love, and I felt tears prick my eyes.
"I have to," I whispered. "Elise—"
I thought about Professor Thorne's words, the way he'd looked at me. About Elise, scared and hiding from dangerous people. About the impossible choice I'd been forced to make.
I nodded once, firmly. "I'm sure."
Sophie studied my face for a long moment, then her expression hardened with resolve. "Then own it," she said fiercely. "Don't let anyone get in your head about this. You're doing this on your terms, for your reasons. Don't let them make you feel ashamed."
Her words hit me like a slap, but a good one – the kind that wakes you up. She was right. I'd made this choice. It was mine to make, and mine to own.
"Don't let anyone get in your head," she repeated, squeezing my hand.