Novels by PJessy

Pitch black. That’s what I woke up to, my heart slamming against my ribs. For a second I honestly thought I was back at the Chen house, trapped in that little storage room with its stale air and walls that felt like they were closing in. Then it hit me, the mansion. The job. My new room.I groped for my phone on the nightstand. 3:17 AM. The screen’s glow burned my eyes. I was about to drop it back down when I heard it.A moan. A woman. Loud. Way too loud for these walls, walls that looked like they were built to keep everything private.“Oh god! Yes!”I froze, my breath stuck somewhere in my chest.Another sound. Louder. It didn’t sound real too dramatic, too practiced. Like the kind of moaning meant for show, not for someone actually losing themselves. I knew that sound. I’d heard it through the walls of Mateo’s bedroom. I’d heard it on the phone that night everything shattered.But this wasn’t my husband.This was my boss.“Fuck! Right there! Kai!”She screamed his name like she was

The sun woke me up. Warm across my face. For a second, I forgot where I was. The bed was too soft. Too quiet. No Clara. No yelling. No floor digging into my back.Then it hit.The interview. The job. The mansion.I was really here.I sat up, blinking at the light pushing through the curtains. A real window. Real curtains. Outside I could see perfect grass, gardens, a fountain way off. Like a picture from some rich-people magazine.My phone said six. Of course. My body was wired for early mornings. Three years of Mateo’s schedule had trained me like a dog.I stretched, then stood there looking at the room. Small, yeah, but neat. Clean. A little shelf for books. A closet. Not fancy, but mine. Mine. That word felt weird.The bathroom was tiny but had hot water, which already made it better than most of the places I’d been. I showered fast, dressed in jeans and a plain tee. Didn’t know the dress code yet. Didn’t care.The hall outside was already buzzing—voices, footsteps, clattering dish

I woke up at five. Body aching, back stiff from the damn storage room floor again. My phone alarm buzzed and I shut it off fast, heart hammering. No way was I letting Clara or Lily catch me up this early. Not today. Not when everything depended on this stupid interview.The interview. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist.I hadn’t really slept. Just kept cycling through questions in my head, practicing answers, then losing track of what I was even saying in my own mind. I grabbed my clothes and crept to the bathroom, locking the door. The shower was barely warm, Clara must’ve fiddled with the heater again. Didn’t matter. I scrubbed hard anyway, washed my hair twice, trying to look like someone who hadn’t just spent the last two nights on a mat.The mirror wasn’t kind. Dark circles. Cheekbones sticking out a little more than I wanted. Eyes dull. I almost didn’t recognize myself.But, there was still something there. My hair, straight and soft. Green eyes sharp against pale ski

Day one in the storage room and I still had nothing.Didn’t sleep again. The mat’s too thin, floor’s too hard, and my head won’t stop spinning. Every time I shut my eyes, I hear Mateo’s voice, Clara’s laugh, Lily’s poison. Same loop on repeat, reminding me I don’t belong anywhere.Morning came too early. Gray light through the tiny window, dust hanging in the air like it was taunting me. My phone’s at eight percent. Stayed up until three scrolling job ads, applying to anything.Cashier. Receptionist. Dog walker. Cleaner. Didn’t matter. I just needed something.But it’s all the same, no replies, or rejections faster than I can blink.I sat up slow, everything aching. Neck from the suitcase-pillow. Back from the floor. My whole body felt bruised. But I couldn’t just sit here rotting. I had to try, keep moving.Opened the door careful, listening. Clara and Robert would be gone by now, work. But Lily… Lily was always around.Hallway was quiet. Good. I could grab water, maybe sneak a littl

The bus ride to the Chen house dragged on forever. Forty-five minutes isn’t that long, but every one felt like an hour. I sat by the grimy window and watched the city shift, clean streets and perfect lawns fading into older blocks with cracked sidewalks and beat-up cars. The kind of neighborhood I’d come from. If you could even call it growing up.When the bus turned onto Maple Street and the house came into view, my stomach knotted. It looked the same. A plain two-story with paint peeling in strips and that chain-link fence they’d put up “just for now” fifteen years ago. The lawn was patchy, the mailbox leaning like it was tired. Everything about it still whispered barely getting by.I’d lived there for twenty-three years before Mateo. Twenty-three years that started out okay and ended… I still don’t know how to explain it.Dragging my suitcase up the cracked sidewalk, memories hit like a flood. Me as a baby in Clara’s arms in the few photos they had, she was actually smiling. Robert

The next afternoon came at me hard. The kind of daylight that doesn’t feel warm, just mean. I wished I could just roll over and vanish under the covers. I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard it, her moaning, him grunting, my own pathetic sobs. Like a loop I couldn’t shut off. By the time the sun pushed through the curtains I gave up. I took a shower, scrubbing until my skin went red, trying to wash the shame off me like it was dirt. It didn’t work. Jeans. Oversized sweater. Comfort clothes. I couldn’t even think about putting on makeup. I went downstairs, headed for coffee. The kitchen staff looked right through me, like always. I was a ghost in that house unless Mateo wanted someone to humiliate. Halfway through my second cup, I heard the front door. My stomach dropped. Footsteps in the foyer. Two sets. One heavy, familiar. The other lighter, clicking on the marble in high heels. I set the mug down. My hands were already shaking. Then they walked