Rebecca
A week. I had been teetering on the edge for an entire week. Everything I saw and did felt magnified—every fear, every sound, every breath. My anxieties, once a quiet undercurrent, roared like waves crashing against my resolve. I hadn’t eaten a single bite, hadn’t dared drink anything from this cursed mansion for days. Today was no different.
“Ms. Rebecca, the food is ready,” Helen said softly, her tone careful, as if she knew I might snap at any moment. Helen and Julie, the two maids assigned to me, had learned to tread lightly. I wasn’t particularly close to them—it wasn’t wise to form attachments here—but basic manners dictated I remember their names.
“Thanks, Helen, but I’m not hungry. I grabbed something at the library in town,” I lied smoothly, though my voice faltered sli
