THREE
677 Words
“You want to speak boldly?” he sneered. “Then scrub boldly.”
He raised his whip and cracked it once—loud, cruel, terrifying.
Rachael flinched, her breath catching. But she didn’t cry.
Not yet.
She reached for the brush with trembling hands, her knees pressed against the cold, dusty floor. The guards stepped back, watching her every move.
The crowd looked on, silent.
Disgust. Pity. Powerlessness.
And just behind Alister—
John knelt, head bowed, silent tears trailing down his face.
The brush scraped softly against the stone floor.
Each stroke was slow, shaky, but deliberate. Rachael gritted her teeth, her knuckles whitening around the toothbrush handle. Dirt caked her fingers. Her knees scraped raw against the ground. But she refused to cry.
She refused to them the satisfaction.
Alister folded his arms, watching her toil like a cruel king surveying his subject. “Let’s see how long your defiance lasts,” he muttered.
Evelyn lunged forward again, wild with grief. “She’s just a girl! Stop this! Please—”
A guard slammed her back to the ground.
John struggled to lift his face, his trembling hand reaching toward his granddaughter. “Rachael…” His voice was a ghost of itself, soaked in helplessness.
The whispers in the crowd returned.
“She’s just a teenager.”
“This punishment is too much.”
“Have they no shame?”
Mothers turned away, clutching their children tighter. Some men looked down at their feet, ashamed to say what they truly felt.
And then a voice rose.
“This is wrong!”
Heads turned. An elderly man with a cane stepped forward. His back was bent, but his voice was strong.
“What crime did she commit? You humiliate a child because her father isn't here to pay? Because you hate her family?”
A few others murmured in agreement.
A mother in the front row whispered loudly, “That girl could be my daughter.”
Someone else said, “She’s already scrubbing! Isn’t that enough?”
For a moment, hope flickered in Evelyn’s eyes. Rachael paused, her hand stilling mid-scrub.
But then—
BANG!
The Chief slammed his palm against the armrest of his throne.
The entire hall froze.
He rose slowly, robes rustling, his voice low but venomous.
“You dare challenge my judgment?”
His eyes locked on the old man.
“Do you want to take her place? Should I have you scrub the floor instead?”
The old man’s mouth opened, but no words came. His gaze dropped. Slowly, he stepped back into the crowd.
The Chief’s gaze swept over the room like a blade. “Anyone else?”
No one moved.
Silence settled like ash over the hall.
And just like that, the fragile rebellion died.
“Cowards,” Evelyn whispered hoarsely, tears slipping down her cheek. Her heart was breaking as she watched her daughter continue scrubbing, each stroke slower, heavier, her arms trembling.
John bowed his head again. He couldn't bear to watch.
Alister stepped forward once more, his boots thudding with malicious intent.
“She’s scrubbing too slow,” he said, his voice lazy but cruel. “Perhaps her mother can help speed it up.”
Before Evelyn could react, she was yanked forward.
“No! NO!”
The crowd gasped.
Two guards shoved her down beside her daughter and thrust another toothbrush into her hand.
“Let’s see how well a mother and daughter team can clean.”
Alister grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure your hands are ruined enough so you never try to ‘seduce’ another man again.”
Evelyn’s eyes flared with shock. “You liar! You’re the one who tried to force yourself on me!”
The Chief stood without warning.
“Take her words as a confession,” he declared. “Double her punishment.”
And then—
A thunderous sound echoed from outside.
BWOOOOOOM!
A long, deafening horn blared through the walls.
The floor trembled beneath them.
The hall went still.
Eyes turned toward the massive wooden doors.
- Writer
