Second Fiddle
1334 Words
Sophie's Point Of View
With a sigh, he rises from bed, gathers his clothes, and moves away from me in the direction of the restroom.
He stops suddenly and comes over to me. “This has never occurred before and won't. It was an error in judgment. I would never voluntarily sleep with you if I were sane.” And he stalks away.
My eyes sting, but I want them to stay closed.
This i***t, who is incapable of accepting responsibility for his actions, is not someone I would cry over.
How could I be held responsible for his presence in my room?
He was using the bathroom, so I gathered the sheets around my nude body and exited to find it empty.
I was fortunate to have enough time to get clean because it was still too early for the maids to be out and about.
When I returned to my room, he was nowhere to be seen. This time, I did not care that he had disappeared once more.
As I was reading one of the books I had borrowed from the library on the bed, one of the many obnoxious maids entered without knocking.
My food is slammed onto the table with harshness.
I hear her mutter something before she leaves. “f*****g slut.”
I am at my breaking point.
Running out of bed, I grab her neatly tied ponytail and tug it until she is screaming and flailing.
“What did you just call me?”
I spat at her face in my fits of rage.
She struggles to free her hair from my fingers as I hold her, but I do not move.
“Let me go,” she hisses, but her eyes are now filled with fear.
That fear is not fulfilling, even though it should be. Not after everything I've been through at the hands of everyone.
The sneers, the whispers, the way they treat me as though I am worthless simply because I am a human.
I had had enough; what had I ever done to them? Xavier chose me. How come I was being referred to as a slut?
I pull more firmly, making her look into my eyes. “You were asked a question.”
She curls her lips and spits out, “Slut, I called you a slut,” despite the pain I know she is experiencing.
I am indignant. Itching to hit, to slap the word out of her mouth, my fingers twitch.
Is she trying to be disrespectful to me? She will not do it without repercussions, though.
With my hand up, I am prepared to make her regret it.
But I stop—this is not who I am.
I was not accustomed to pointing out the negative effects of people's behaviour because I was not a saint either.
With a sharp intake of breath, I push her away.
She stutters, tries to steady herself, but fails miserably, and falls to the ground.
Her hands flew to her scalp and rubbed the area where I had pulled her hair. Her eyes glare at me, burning with anger.
“You are going to regret this,”
She rages.
“He is not interested in you.
Nobody in this house does.”
I c**k my head and give her slits in my eyes. “Why are you all so fixated on me, then? Please disregard me if you do not want me because I will not be leaving. Trying to ruin my life all the time will not work.”
She parted her lips, but she had no answer. She gives a final hiss over her shoulder before turning on her heel and storming out instead.
I do not wince.
My heart continues to race in my chest as I release my breath the moment she leaves.
I am trembling.
I clench my fists, forcing myself to relax.
I will not benefit in this situation if I lose control.
I look back at the plate of food she had just slammed onto the table.
Even though I was starving—especially after last night—the idea of consuming food made by people who hate me makes me feel ill.
The tray is picked up and set outside the door of my room.
Since they would not let it rot and contaminate the house, they will undoubtedly take it.
I return to the room and make sure the door is bolted.
With a sigh, I collapse onto the bed and pick up the book I borrowed from the library.
For the remainder of the day, I remain in my room. The sky outside is dark by the time hunger triumphs.
I push my book away and make myself get up.
After reading for hours, my head hurts, and my stomach hurts from being so full.
I might have been wrong to eat the food, but what if it was contaminated?
I did not regret it because I had already kept it out.
I change into a plain dress that will not catch anyone's attention because I would rather not be reprimanded for dressing too expensively.
I then enter the hallway.
The majority of the servants are most likely withdrawing to their quarters, as the house is now quiet.
Good, I have no one to obstruct me.
Since the maids were gone for the evening and nobody would even bother to help me, I headed for the kitchen, not expecting to find any food at this hour.
However, I see a little plate of grapes on the counter as soon as I enter.
I have no second thoughts.
I grab one and put it in my mouth. I exhale in relief, and it is sweet.
Something in this house is not entirely miserable, at least.
A throat clears behind me, freezing me as I reach for another.
Slowly, I turn.
Standing there, a woman's eyebrows are perfectly raised as she watches me.
She is very attractive.
It reminded you of the beauty of stars.
My own golden hair seems lifeless and unattractive in contrast to her blond hair, which shimmers in the gentle illumination.
Her dress fits her slender figure perfectly and looks incredibly expensive.
I remain silent.
As I gaze at her, I simply swallow another grape.
Her heels click on the floor as she takes a step forward.
Before speaking, she looks at me and gives me a quick assessment." Were the maids permitted to eat here?"
I blink. “Pardon?”
She just called me a maid!
Her eyes grow piercing.
You heard me.
Who authorized you to eat as though you owned the establishment?
Before her words even register, I look at her in disbelief.
To her, I am a maid.
I set the plate down and erect my shoulders. “I am Xavier's wife,”
I tell her calmly. “This pack's Luna”
Stillness.
She then lets out a laugh.
Not a little giggle.
She burst out laughing, as though I had just told her the most absurd joke she had ever heard.
As she examines me once more, this time with a hint of amusement, she abruptly stops and tilts her head.
She laughs, “I did not think he would downgrade me.”
She takes a step closer and smiles tauntingly before I can react.
She introduces herself as “Celeste Lottana.” Xavier's ex-lover. The legitimate Luna of this pack.
My hands clench into fists.
As I open my mouth to speak, I hear footsteps approaching our location.
Xavier's mother and several maids enter the room. Her eyes brighten as soon as she sees Celeste.
“Celeste, sweetheart!” She gushes as she passes me by as if I do not exist.
She warmly squeezes Celeste's hands as she reaches for them. “Greetings from home.”
Home?
It makes my stomach turn.
Celeste gives me a sly smile from behind Xavier's mother.
Now I know my stance in the pack
Second Fiddle!
- Writer
