Beneath His Isolation

I may have done something stupid and naive… I signed up for a job as a live-in servant at a massive mansion. The pay and the hours sounded too good to be true: paid boarding, free meals, eighteen dollars an hour, and only five-hour shifts every day. I applied as soon as I saw a poster in my small, less fortunate town, feeling the stirrings of hope in a heart that had seen little joy.Now, I sit across from a skeletal-figured older man who claims to be the steward. He is dressed in a fine, pressed black suit with a thin smile placed on his face. His office is simple yet imposing… A leather chair, a massive desk, and broad windows that bathe the room in a stark light. Bookcases line the walls, filled with tomes that whisper of history and wealth. Heavy oak doors separate his space from the rest of the manor, creating an air of exclusivity.“Welcome to Hawthorne Estate,” he says in a dry voice, his dark eyes piercing through me with a mix of amusement and simple calculation. “I trust you

The rest of the morning passed in a blur, though my thoughts refused to leave the library.No matter how hard I tried to focus on polishing banisters or folding linens, my mind kept wandering back to Master Hawthorne. More specifically, to the expression on his face after he took the journal from my hands.It hadn't just been anger.If anything, anger would have been easier to understand.Instead, I'd seen grief.The kind that sits behind someone's eyes for so long that they begin to mistake it for part of themselves.I sighed quietly as I tucked the last fresh towel into a guest room wardrobe."Catherine?" Agnes' voice drifted in from the hallway."I'm in here."She leaned against the doorway, carrying a basket of vegetables under one arm. "Finished already?""I think so."She glanced around the room before giving an approving nod. "You've got a good eye."I smiled. "Thank you."She studied me for another moment before her expression softened. "Something's bothering you."I hesitated

The midday sun beat down on the cobblestone courtyard, casting harsh shadows across the kitchen entrance where I stood, shaking out a damp linen tablecloth. My mind was still tangled in the thorny wildness of the hidden rose garden and the quiet intensity of Kent’s voice. 'Wild things usually are.' The phrase echoed in my head like a melody I couldn't quite shake."You're going to tear a hole in that if you snap it any harder, Catherine," Agnes said, leaning against the doorframe with a basket of fresh rosemary tucked against her hip.I paused mid-motion, the damp fabric hanging limply between my hands. "Sorry. I was just... thinking."Agnes stepped onto the porch, her sharp eyes studying my face with maternal concern. "You've been doing a lot of thinking since you got back from the east terrace. Vance was down here five minutes ago asking if your morning duties were complete." She lowered her voice, taking a step closer. "He didn't look pleased, Catherine. He doesn't like it when t

-Inside of Kent's Journal-Letter 3,106.Hey Mom,I am writing to you again, just as any other day. Perhaps someday I will send you one of these writings.It seems as though I must write every day to clear my mind. It only lasts just a moment, I wish my mind could stop troubling me so muchI plan on staying in the study today, and I know I do every day. But plans can always change, knowing how unpredictable life can be at times.I can not help but follow this routine of constant work. I wish my brother taught me how he had so much free time. He just took time to relax and do the things he loved. I honestly do not even know what I love anymore...He would also find a way to take me hunting, boating, and on our little trips. He spent a lot of time talking to staff too. The halls miss his laughter just as much as I do. This house feels empty, just as my heart does... I forgot the last time I smiled. I suppose everyone suffers around me, because no one dares to show any joy or interest a

I followed Kent down the hall. He had a pace that wasn't rushed, but I struggled to keep up.After some moments of silent walking, he opened the kitchen door, expecting me to follow him. "I'll go and brew the tea... And I should probably get those pastries Agnes prepared for you earlier. I know you refused them, but maybe now you'll have an appetite." I said, walking past the kitchen tables, my words shaking anxiously.Kent just nodded and sat down at the table closest to the door.I walked to the pantry, forcing its rusty hinges to open for me. The space itself was rather clean, but there were definitely signs of aging. Dust in places most maids can't reach, scuffs where boxes of spices were often moved, and a lingering smell of teas, peppers, oils, tallow, and other common cooking aids.I started looking for the tea Mrs. Agnes always made since its warmth and flavor seemed always to calm me.Scanning each shelf, I honestly got distracted by all of the stuff that was back here. Next