Chapter 3

I packed the last of my things, dragging my feet on the floor. Today was the last I would spend here as dad had informed me a ride was on its way to pick me up and I took one last glance around a room I’ve known for years. It was small, a tiny space I barely slept in, but the room was painted in bright pink–a color that reminded me so much of sunshine and rainbows. That was what my mother was to me until she died. 

When she took her final breath, a piece of me went with her and was buried six feet below the ground. Heaving a deep sigh, I tried to push the thoughts of my mother away from my head, but they kept coming back, haunting me like a moth drawn to a flame. Why did she have to go? Couldn’t it have been me? Maybe then, I wouldn’t be suffering the way I was now, doing housemaid duties in a house my mother once had a share in. My head swelled with anger at the situation and my fingers bunched together, about to form a fist when a knock suddenly came on the door, interrupting me. The ride was here. 

Without much thinking, I released my fingers and swung my bag on my right shoulder, making my way out of the shabby room and down the hallway. I passed by the spot I’d hidden out on that fateful morning–the morning dad was taken away–and my face instantly hardened. All of that just for him to give me away like a new dress without a tag. Like I meant nothing to him. Maybe I didn’t. Still, it hurt–no matter how hard I try to please–and I felt a sharp pinch in my chest that I ignored as I hurried down the stairs. I didn’t meet any of my family members waiting at the front porch to send me off and I walked into the supposed ride–a black colored van–my head hanging in disappointment. 

The door slid closed on its own accord as I dropped my bag beside me, and I swallowed at the thick darkness that covered me like a blanket. It felt like I was being cut off from the outside world and I shifted uncomfortably in the squishy leather seat, apprehension killing me. I could hear movements from the side of the van that was sectioned off and soon, the car was in motion to god-knows-where. 

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, and the image of the slap my father had given me flashed through my head. I instinctively raised a hand to the swollen cheek, tears streaming down my face. These days, I could do nothing, but cry at the injustice. If my mum were still here, she’d have fought to protect her only child, but alas, the cold winds of death had blown her away like a pile of ash. Why were bad things always happening to good people? 

The van hit a bump in the road and shuddered and I feared it would topple, my fingers holding onto the handle of the seat for dear life. But, the moment passed, and everywhere was calm again. I leaned sideways, pressing my body against the car door to feel for a window, or perhaps a lock, but the place was sealed tight as if prepared for the worst possible occurrence. Shit. I was never going anywhere with this. I should just give up, and resign myself to fate. 

My back pressed flat on the seats, and I felt the sudden urge to scream. Stretching my lips wide, I let out an ear-piercing scream, hoping to catch someone–anyone’s–attention. But, no one could hear me and I slumped further into my chair, wanting to disappear completely. My father had accused me of being the cause of everything, what if it was actually true? What if I hadn’t cursed that day? Would that still have triggered such a violent reaction towards my father? My mind kept churning and I didn’t realise we had gotten to our destination until the car pulled to an abrupt halt and I heard the sound of a door slamming, rattling the body of the van. The door opened up to me without having to touch it and I got down, dragging my luggage behind me. 

Immediately, my feet touched the ground, I was greeted by a shaft of afternoon sunlight piercing through my eyelids and I shielded my eyes, stepping away. The masked man who was obviously the driver from the car keys on his belt, roughly shoved me away from the van and entered and drove off, leaving me standing there, gaping at the huge mansion in front of me.

 It was painted in shades of white and beige cream–a perfect blend–and it looked far above me like a high tower, the garden which flagged the front porch neatly trimmed and spotless. It was as if I’d stepped into another world entirely, the water sprinkling from the water fountain in front crystal clear. The front door swung open, making my head turn and a housekeeper stepped out, prim in her ink-blue apron and a white headgear that didn’t settle well on her head. She gestured to me and I walked up to her, each step heavy, filled with growing dread. I didn’t know the kind of work Dominique wanted me to do, but I know nothing good could come out of it. Especially as my father was indebted to his captors. 

The woman was tall, friendly-looking and with the kindest smile I’ve ever seen. 

I forced out an equally friendly smile, but my lips felt sticky against my teeth. My cheeks hurt. 

“Come inside. Dominique is waiting for you in the living room.” The sound of his name sent chills down my spine and I nodded, keeping a straight face as I trailed behind her. I was careful with my actions and expressions as this was new territory for me but when my gaze landed on those sharp blue eyes narrowing shrewdly at me, I almost lost my cool.