“Nadia, you behave.” He chuckled, gazing over the room.
His voice was like a sledgehammer, pounding into my eardrums with each word.
I curled my arms around my knees, averting my gaze from him. The pungent smell of cigarettes mixed with his cologne filled my nostrils, making me crinkle my nose. I didn’t dare look up at him. For what reason would I? I felt like the grime caked onto the bottom of his polished shoes. His appearance was striking, with his slicked-back blond hair and tailored suit. The tapping of his shoes against the pavement echoed in my ears. On the other hand, I was dressed in nothing but my shabby maid uniform, reduced to tatters after scrubbing it with the water in the dingy sink. “I’m proud of you for keeping quiet. Quiet as a mouse, huh? You’ve truly kept up to your nickname.” He leaned over me, grasping under my chin and squeezing my cheeks, and pulled me up so I gazed into his frightening eyes.
There was something off about him since the first day I came to the mansion. They were piercing, more like a hunter ready to sink his teeth into his prey. His face was pale, and he had an ungodly amount of strength in just his hand.
I wanted to cry at the pain in my cheeks. Instead, I let the tears gather in my eyes, trying my best not to make a sound. Ever since I’d remained quiet about how I got Mrs. Delilah out, he didn’t want to hear any word escape my lips, and now I was afraid to talk, and after what he had done to me, I swore I would never speak again. “I expect you to remain quiet during the duration of my departure. None of that banging on the door, like you did in the beginning, hmm?” He cocked his head, and my eyes widened in fear.
Mrs. Delilah requested little from Master Cunningham, but she requested no female be sexually abused or hit, which he hadn’t done to me. Instead, he came up with other ways to punish me instead.
With his hand clamped around my face, I nodded my head the best I could. “Good little mouse, I shall return.”
I’d always been a quiet person, but after coming here I was more of a recluse, and even more so since helping Mrs. Delilah escape. I didn’t regret what I did. I only regretted not leaving with her.
If only I hadn’t been so foolish in thinking I could help others escape. What kind of person would I have been if I had left? The guilt would have been too much. I would have crawled back, trying to help others that wanted my help.
No, this was the right decision. This was what I was supposed to do. Help others, like my mother and father were doing before me.
If I looked at it in a positive light—this place had become my home since they threw me in here. It was small and dimly lit, but if you looked at it with the right attitude, it could be homely. It was large for my size, six by nine feet. It could be smaller if I really thought about it. The walls were cold and grey, but at least they weren’t stark white and blinding.
The small window that opened and shut by the door would occasionally let light in if they didn’t close it all the way, and when the light came in, it was welcome. The bed was uncomfortable, but if I cried on it just right, it would soften the mattress. The blanket was soft when dried after a few days of washing it in the sink. And after a good washing, the air would pull the water out of the blanket, giving the air some humidity, some sort of warmth if I concentrated really hard.
The metal toilet flushed. Not much more I could say about that really, but at least it was not a bucket.
It was—quiet in here. I’d grown to like it. The soft sounds were soothing and helped me sleep.
With the sounds from the outside world, the banging of doors from the hallways, and the click of the lock, I could very well rupture an eardrum.
If I was let out of this cell now, I didn’t know if I would survive out there. All the sounds rushing in, my hearing just might—explode.
Again, I beckoned the food slot to open with my finger, wishing and hoping it would move. Instead, a tear trailed down my cheek. A useless tear.
I left my arm hanging off the cot, listened to the continued dripping of the sink, and let my lifeless body lay there.
As much optimism as I tried to display, as much as I tried to look at the bright side of things, today was a lot more bleak with my stomach yelling that it was hungry. Right now, the darkness was closing in, and I was hoping I didn’t wake up.
I was too chicken to do it myself, too prideful to hit my head on the sink. But what if I just closed my eyes and my stomach just began to eat itself?
Would it hurt?
Because no help is really coming.
No one knew I was here besides the hired help, and they would never help me, not after what they witnessed the day I was caught. Master Cunningham made sure to make an example out of me.
My lip curled, and I rolled onto my back, staring at the lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Yeah—it was a great run. Too bad it had to end like this.
At least Mrs. Delilah got out. At least she didn’t have to live with that evil, crazy man anymore. She had to live with him for years before I came along, and I’ve only known him for a few.
I let out a deep breath, my eyes fluttering closed.
Maybe I could dream of something nice for once.
Maybe the nightmares that liked to haunt my dreams while in this room wouldn’t come this time.
Maybe, just once.
Chapter Two
