Eleven

Vanessa

The halls of the servants' wing had finally fallen silent. It was the kind of exhaustion that had stolen every last voice and footstep.

A new day would come soon, bringing with it the same cycle of work, but now, in the dead of night, there was a brief illusion of peace.

I tightened the black scarf around my head, hiding my hair as my ears strained for any sound of movement. Nothing. Everyone was asleep.

My worn flip-flops were tucked beneath my pallet by the main door of the quarters. The shortcut I intended to take wound behind the main washroom, a narrow path that threaded past the old copper pipes of the estate’s plumbing.

It was a route I had memorized as a child, a hidden exit that led straight into the backyard.

I slipped through the gap in the wall. The open air greeted me with freedom. Overhead, the moon hung heavy and full, a perfect silver disc, watching me and turning familiar shapes into mysterious silhouettes.

I found a spot of cover behind the vegetable patch. My