SERVING THE DEVIL'S HOUSE

Chapter Two—Pain

Hours slipped by without me noticing.

I stood by the window, watching the golden light fade from the tall glass panes. It turned to streaks of amber, then gave way to dusk. One by one, the maids lit the candles along the hall. Their flames danced under the crystal chandeliers, casting long shadows on the walls.

The grand dining hall grew quiet. Only the distant footsteps of servants echoed through the long corridors. Most of the maids had finished their tasks and moved on to other duties. Some had already gone back to their chambers to rest.

I was rinsing the last bloodstained rag in the basin when I heard the sharp click of polished black heels on the marble floor. They stopped right in front of me. I did not need to look up.

It was Ma’am Cornelia.

Beside me, the trembling maid from earlier froze like a scared rabbit.

“You two, with me!” Ma’am Cornelia said, her voice cold as ice. She turned and walked toward the corridor without waiting.

I took a deep breath. The punishment room waited for us.

We walked in silence through the dining corridor and into the garden. I loved the fresh smell of flowers and the evening air, but I could not enjoy it now. A tight knot sat heavy in my chest. I had never been to the punishment room before, but I had seen what it did to others. Most servants came out changed, their faces pale and their bodies marked.

You were clumsy, a voice in my head said.

I should have moved to the next table.

It wasn’t my fault, I answered back. That girl bumped into me.

Still, you are going to get punished now.

I swallowed hard. I knew it was true.

My eyes kept drifting to the keys hanging from Ma’am Cornelia’s apron pocket. Why did she carry them? Did the punishment room not have guards to open the doors?

We turned a corner. The air grew colder. Tall trees stood all around us now. It felt like we were walking into a forest. The villa was huge — it could take three days to walk around it — but I never knew a place like this existed here. No pretty paintings. No fancy carved statues. Just a lonely building ahead, hidden among the trees and gravel paths. That had to be the punishment room.

As we got closer, a strange smell reached my nose. It was thick and heavy. Old blood. My stomach turned. I pressed my lips tight and pinched my nose. I could not throw up in front of Ma’am Cornelia. That would only make things worse. The other maid — the bumpy one — looked at me with confusion. I ignored her and fought my body. Sweat ran down my forehead. The feeling in my throat would not go away. I opened my mouth and let the sour fluid pour out slowly. The bumpy maid gave me a look of disgust.

The building was clear now. A heavy iron door stood at the end of the path. Two big guards waited there. They were tall and strong with hard faces. Ma’am Cornelia spoke quietly to the taller one. He looked at us a few times. Then he walked to the iron door and unlocked it. The hinges made a loud groan.

Ma’am Cornelia handed him the keys I had seen earlier. She whispered something. I watched her lips move. “You know what to do.” That same cruel smile returned to her face.

My fingers gripped my apron tight. My heart beat so fast it hurt. A scream came from somewhere below. It tore through the stairwell and made my legs feel weak.

“Move,” the guard said and shoved me. I stumbled forward but caught myself. He grabbed my arm hard and dragged me toward the basement door.

“I… I’m sorry…” the other maid begged Ma’am Cornelia. The guard holding her pulled her along.

Ma’am Cornelia tilted her head. “Huh?” she teased.

“I said I was sorry…” The girl looked no older than sixteen. She shook badly. A wet patch spread on the ground beneath her skirt.

The guard grabbed her hair before she could say more. Her scream filled the hallway. He dragged her across the floor like she was nothing.

The guard beside me pulled me down the steep stairs. I looked back at Ma’am Cornelia. She watched with a deep smile, enjoying every second. In Voss Villa, sorry meant nothing.

The iron door slammed shut behind us. The stairs creaked under our weight as the guard took us deeper. The air was damp and cold. The place looked like it had never seen daylight. Dim torches burned along the walls, but they only made the shadows darker. Barred doors lined both sides of the passage.

A scream came from one of the rooms. “Please…” a weak voice begged.

The guard laughed.

Then came the sound of a lash. Another cry followed — higher and sharper than the last.

I winced. The guard squeezed my arm harder. Blood trickled down from under my sleeve and over my fingers.

The smell grew stronger — fresh blood, mold, and sweat all mixed together.

Another scream tore through the walls. It was the bumpy maid. Her cries grew weaker and weaker. Then they stopped completely. The silence that followed felt worse than the screams. A cold shiver ran down my back.

A drop of water fell on my forehead. I looked up. More drops came. Plink. Plink. Each one sounded louder than my own heartbeat.

The door to a room flew open with a loud bang.

They tied my hands above my head to a thick wooden beam. The ropes bit into my wrists. My shoulders burned from hanging there for hours. My toes barely touched the cold floor.

Two guards walked in without saying a word. I swallowed. My throat felt dry as sand.

One guard picked up a leather whip from the table nearby. My heart raced. I stared at it for a moment, then shut my eyes tight.

Stay calm, I told myself. Don’t let them see your fear.

I heard him step closer. The first crack of the whip cut through the air.

Pain exploded across my back like fire. My body jerked against the ropes. I pulled in shaky breaths and held in my cry. He struck again. And again. And again. I lost count.

My hands trembled. Tears filled my eyes. Another crack. I gasped. Every muscle in my body tightened.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe through the pain.

The guard watched me for a second. He looked almost disappointed. Then he laughed quietly. His boots moved away. The iron door slammed shut. Silence came back, but it was not peaceful.

The ropes creaked as I tried to steady myself. I leaned my forehead against my arm and let out a slow, uneven breath. Every part of my body ached. My hands shook badly. Only broken breaths came from my lips. The pain sat deep now. Too deep. Even crying hurt. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to run, to hide, to wake up somewhere safe. But I knew that was impossible.

A tear slid down my cheek. I did not know how long I could take this. I wondered if the scars would stay forever. Maybe they would.

One day I might run my fingers over them and remember this room. Remember the smell. Remember the darkness. Remember how loudly I screamed… and how no one came.

My eyelids grew heavier. The pain still lived in every inch of me, but my body had no fight left. Slowly, very slowly, my breathing settled. The cold did not feel as sharp. The darkness moved closer.

I hung there, lost between pain and sleep, wondering if this was the end of me or just the beginning of something worse in Voss Villa.

Hours passed in that dark room. The torches outside the door burned low. Sometimes I heard other cries from far away. Sometimes there was only silence. My back felt raw and wet with blood. Every small movement sent new waves of pain through me. I tried to think of better days — the warm kitchen smells, the soft bread I sometimes stole a bite of, the quiet moments when no one watched me. But those memories felt far away now, like they belonged to another girl.

The bumpy maid’s face kept coming back to me. I did not even know her real name. Was she still alive? Had they taken her somewhere else? Guilt mixed with my pain. If I had been faster, maybe none of this would have happened.

Ma’am Cornelia’s smile stayed in my mind too. She enjoyed this. She enjoyed breaking us. In this villa, we were not people. We were things to be used and punished when we failed.

I whispered a small prayer under my breath, even though I knew no one was listening. “Just let it end soon…”

The ropes held me tight. The darkness pressed in. And the pain… the pain stayed with me like an old friend I never wanted.