MIKA
I scrubbed the last of the dishes in frustration, my hands moving faster than necessary. Anger boiled within me, bubbling up like the soap and water splashing from the sink.
Every time I thought of Megan, my hands clenched tighter around the dishcloth. She had everything she didn’t deserve. She waltzed around this place, smiling and drawing everyone’s attention with that oh-so-innocent face. It made me sick.
As I muttered under my breath, I heard some commotion behind me. One of the maids, a girl who usually prepped ingredients, had apparently collapsed. She’d been looking pale all morning, and now she was out cold. Just perfect timing, I thought to myself, watching as the head chef, Terrie, rushed over to check on her.
“Poor thing, she’s burning up. Take her to the maid’s qua
