Amidst the commotion and unnoticed by Maya, the grey old head maid, Mrs. Thompson, pulled into a tight bun and her starched uniform rustling with each deliberate step, approaches the kneeling maid who's still trembling from her earlier encounter.
"Sarah."
The older woman's voice is like the sound of a crack in the deafening silence.
The woman, Sarah, jumps at the address, looking up at the cool face of Mrs Thompson.
"Y-yes?"
The young maid's hands shake as she clutches her apron, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks.
"Pack your things immediately and leave the premises," Mrs. Thompson's voice cuts through the silence like a steel blade. "Your services are no longer required in this manner."
Maya, who has been holding her children close, their small bodies still quivering from
