EPISODE 4
622 Words
Amara stood by the bathroom door, holding a long mop. The floor was wet and slippery. The smell of bleach filled the air. Her tiny hands shook as she wiped, her eyes red and heavy. She had not slept much the night before.
Every part of her body ached.
She bent over to scrub the corners of the floor. As she did, Princess walked in.
“I want to use the toilet,” Princess said with a frown.
“But I’m still cleaning....” Amara started.
“Did I ask you to talk?” Princess snapped.
Amara moved back quickly, her eyes wide.
Princess stepped inside, slipped slightly, and screamed.
“Aaaaah!”
She didn’t fall, but her scream was loud enough to shake the whole house.
Madam Stella came rushing in. “What happened?!”
“Amara wanted to kill me!” Princess cried. “She poured water on the floor so I would fall!”
“What?!” Madam Stella turned to Amara.
“No, ma… I was just cleaning, I swear…” Amara said, her lips trembling.
But Madam Stella didn’t want to hear it.
SLAP!
The sound of the slap echoed through the corridor. Amara staggered back, holding her cheek. It burned.
“You want to kill my daughter? You evil child!” Madam Stella shouted.
“I’m sorry…” Amara whispered, tears rolling down her face.
“Clean that bathroom and go outside. No lunch for you today!” Madam Stella said and dragged Princess out.
Amara dropped to her knees and cried silently. The mop slipped from her hand. She leaned against the wall and sobbed. Not loud. She didn’t want them to hear her cry. But the pain was deep.
So deep.
Later that day, while everyone in the house was watching a movie, Amara was outside under the mango tree. She sat on the bare ground, her knees tucked to her chest, her arms around her legs.
She brought out a tiny folded paper from her pocket. It was part of a letter Mama wrote before she left the village.
“My child, be strong. The world is hard, but your heart is soft. Let no one take your light. I love you always.”
She kissed the paper and held it to her chest.
“I wish I could run back home,” she whispered. “I miss you, Mama.”
The wind blew gently. The sky turned orange as the sun began to set.
Then she heard footsteps.
It was the driver again.
He sat beside her without saying a word. He didn’t touch her or ask questions. He just sat.
After a while, he said, “What’s your name?”
“Amara,” she replied softly.
“You’re strong, Amara.”
She didn’t answer. She just nodded.
Then he reached into his pocket and gave her a meat pie.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.
Amara took it with both hands. “Thank you, sir.”
He smiled, stood up, and walked away.
That night, Amara didn’t eat dinner with the family. She wasn’t allowed. But she ate her meat pie in the small room while the generator hummed outside.
And for the first time since she came to the big house, she smiled.
Just a little smile.
But deep down, her heart was still heavy. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. She didn’t know if there would be more slaps, more hunger, more tears.
But she knew this:
She would survive.
She would keep Mama’s letter close. She would hold on to the little kindness the driver gave her. And she would keep her tears hidden.
In this new world, crying secretly is safer than crying out loud.
- Writer
