CHAPTER 3
1002 Words
I learned very quickly that hunger had a sound.
It was not loud. It did announce itself. It crept in quietly, hollow and sharp, and a tightening just beneath my ribs that made every movement feel deliberate and costly.
By noon, I had already scrubbed three staircases, polished glass that reflected my face behind me.
Paler, thinner than yesterday.
And I carried boxes I was never told the contents of.
Each task ended only when the next one began. No pause. No acknowledgment.
When the bell rang for lunch the mansion shifted.
The staff moved as one, disappearing toward the dining hall. The scent of the food drifted through the corridor - warm bread, something rich and slow-cooked.
My steps faltered without permission.
Did I dismiss you?
His voice cut through the air, calm and precise.
I turned.
He stood at the end of the hallway jacket still immaculate, sleeves unrolled as though the day had touched him at all.
His eyes passed over me like I was an item misplaced not a person.
"No sir" I said quickly
"Then continue."
I watched the others walk past me. Plates clinked somewhere far away. My stomach twisted, but I bent down and resumed, wiping the marble floor, slower now, each heavier than the last.
I told myself it was just a delay. A test surely someone would bring my food later.
No one did.
By evening, my hands trembled.
I had been on my feet since dawn. The clock in the west hall chimed six, then seven.
The light outside softened into gold, then faded completely still. He gave orders.
"Redo it"
The words were not raised. That was the worst part. He never shouted, he never rushed. His cruelty came wrapped in calm certainty, as though this were simply a procedure.
I redid the work
When finished, he inspected it in silence. Then he gestured to a corner I hadn't touched.
"You missed that?
My vision blurred for a second. I nodded and knelt.
"Stand."
I froze.
I didn't tell you to kneel. " Stand"
I rose too quickly, dizziness crashing through my skull. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself.
His gaze sharpened," Are you unwell?"
"No, sir," I said.
Night did not bring rest.
While the mansion was quiet, my work only chapped my hands. Candles replaced daylight.
Silence replaced footsteps. He remained present, seated in the study, reviewing documents while I stood at attention near the door.
"You may not sit," he said without looking up.
My legs burned. My knees locked. I focused on breathing slowly and shallowly.
Minutes stretched into hours.
At some point, my vision blurred again. The room seemed to sway shadows bending at the edges.
"Sir", I said softly, hating how small my voice sounded. "May I have water?"
He finally looked up.
There was no anger in his eyes. No satisfaction either. Just a cool assessment.
"You may," he said, "after you finish organizing those files.
I glanced at the desk. The papers were already aligned.
He followed my gaze. "Again", my fingers fumbled as I sorted them, mind sluggish, body heavy. When I finished, I waited.
He returned to his work.
Fifty minutes passed,
"Sir"? I ventured
My throat burned." May I have water"
He studied for a long moment. Then he reached for the glass on his desk and took a slow sip.
"No".
The world was quiet. Absolute.
Something broke then- not loudly, not dramatically but enough that I felt it.
A small, fragile piece of myself splintering away.
"Yes, sir," I said, because even broken things can still obey.
When he finally dismissed me, it was past midnight.
I barely made it to the servants ' corridor before my knees buckled.
I caught myself against the wall, breathing hard, stomach screaming, limbs shaking with exhaustion.
As I straightened, I heard footsteps.
"You are still standing," he said.
I turned, startled.
"That will improve," he added. "Tomorrow you start early."
My lips parted, "Sir please."
He raised a hand, and I stopped instantly.
" I am not interested in please. Only results," he said.
He paused, then added, almost thoughtfully, " And do clean yourself properly. Disheveled staff reflect poorly on the household.
With that, he turned away.
I stood there long after he was gone the corridor silent, my body aching, my stomach empty, my pockets lighter than they had ever been.
For the first time since I arrived, the truth settled fully in my chest.
This was not work.
And tomorrow, it would be worse.
That night, sleep came slowly.
I lay on the narrow bed. Staring at the ceiling as shadows moved like memories I never invited my body ached, but it was my heart that refused to rest. In the silence, my thoughts drifted back to a time when laughter still lived in the house when my father was alive.
He used to call me a little angel, used to promise that no matter how hard the world became, I would never face it alone.
After his death, the house had changed.
My stepmother's voice still echoed in my mind sharp, cold, always reminding me that kindness had a price and love was conditional. Every chore, every insult, every withheld metal had taught me the same lesson, endure quietly or suffer louder.
I turned on my side, curling into myself as if that could protect what little strength I had left.
Tomorrow, I will rise again. Obey. Survive.
Obedience kept my body standing when strength failed, and silence was the only shield between me and complete collapse.
But somewhere deep inside my chest, beneath the fear and exhaustion.
Something stubborn refused to die.
A promise my father once made to me.
I didn't know when or how - but that lesson had never left me.
I closed my eyes breathing slowly, holding onto the memory of his voice as sleep finally claimed me.
It was thin, fragile.
But it was there.
Still breathing.
- Writer
