The mansion

*Mackenzie*

My hands shook uncontrollably as I strode after Mrs. Kringle along the path leading through the barely lit grove. Like an obedient servant, I followed her with my head hung low, occasionally glancing at the building we passed.

There was nothing wrong with our journey except for the fact that I felt like a condemned man heading for beheading. I knew I did nothing wrong, and Robert could confirm my testimony, yet the feeling of shame never left me when Mrs. Kringle told me about the survivor.

My father was known for his brutal ways with prisoners, and gender didn’t matter to him. If he believed in someone's guilt, he stopped at nothing to achieve his intended goal. Those screams of terror were my nightmare for the first two years spent in his pack. Esther provided me with my daily dose of screams when she locked me down in the cell to hear it.

Nightmares weren’t the worst. The worst was that hopeless when they begged for help, and I couldn’t do anything. But she added anothe