"Get back here, you silly bitch! I'm not done with you!"
The voice cut through the hallway like a whip. Every corner of the long, narrow corridor seemed to shiver under Seleya's anger. "Daughter of a slut. A cheap prostitute."
Seleya Jonathan—my father's golden girl, my mother's sister's daughter, and therefore my cousin and stepsister—had made it her mission to remind me every day of the sin that birthed me: my mother, Maria Magita, sleeping with her sister's husband.
"Zari! Bring those clothes. Make her wash until her hands bleed. And if any of you dare help her, you're fired!"
I stared at the floor, focusing on a scuffed tile, trying to make myself smaller, to fold into myself like origami in her presence. Seleya's venom was routine, a ritual I'd learned to endure.
She pivoted on her heel, the sharp scrape of her shoe echoing like a warning. Over her shoulder: "And if you don't scrub harder, I'll double your punishment. Maybe then your useless mother will learn to keep her filthy legs shut instead of chasing other women's husbands."
Silence fell heavy, mixed with the smell of old soap, varnish, and the metallic tang of my fear. Words felt useless in a life carved from my mother's sins. If she hadn't slept with my aunt's husband, maybe my world wouldn't be this hell.
But she did. And then she jumped. The town called it shame; I called it abandonment. A bitter truth lodged itself in my chest. If there was anyone I hated most, it was my mother. Born in fucking hell, I thought, clenching my jaw until my teeth hurt.
Every November 17th, the day she died, I went to her cliffside grave to drop scorpions upon it, praying they'd sting her, punish her for abandoning me. "I curse you. Born in hell. May the scorpions eat you, bitch," I muttered under my breath.
Today wasn't the anniversary—but the impulse lingered. I was supposed to be at school, writing final-year exams, but instead, I scrubbed floors, punished for sins I hadn't committed. Each glance at my father ignited a quiet rage. Why did he get to walk free while my mother had jumped for their scandal? He was painfully… average.
Zari hovered at the edge of the corridor, a strange blend of pity and anger in her eyes. But Seleya's shadow loomed over both of us. I felt the familiar, long-suppressed fire flare inside me—a dangerous thought I'd entertained as a fifteen-year-old: poisoning my father. Zarina had whispered plans back then, risks we'd laugh over in secret, but I'd always stopped myself. Still, the thought of slipping Threnax into his coffee had tempted me once, and I'd even gone to the hospital, heart hammering, only to flee when the pharmacist asked questions I couldn't answer.
I gripped the basin until my nails bit into my palms, my self-inflicted pain a mirror of my daily life. I walked down the corridor, soap and dust clinging to me, my shadow stretching long against the walls.
"Come here, Zari!" Seleya called, sharp as broken glass. Zari left me to my torment, and I froze, then slowly moved to the nearest corner to continue.
The basin water was warm, lemon-scented, but it did nothing to wash away the bitterness lodged in my soul. I hummed softly as I scrubbed, a tiny thread of defiance woven into the rhythm of labor. Zari picked up a garment beside me to help.
"Sometimes I wonder why you take her nonsense," she whispered. "You're family too. You're supposed to have a revenge plan. I brought out tons of plans, but you refused. Sometimes I wonder… do you just like suffering or what? Run away with me—you said no."
Zari was an orphan, found on the edge of the mansion years ago, five months older than me. She'd become my closest companion, my only light in this house of cruelty.
"No," I said quietly, wringing a shirt until it stung. "My mom and useless father are the ones who should pay. I wouldn't do what they do to me, but I can't blame them. It's my dad who deserves it. Silly villagers blame my mom but spare him. Misogynist."
Zari continued, low and cautious: "I heard Seleya telling Catherina that your evil step-witch and your loser dad will be back tomorrow. Why can't they just stay away? And your exam—how do you plan on doing it? She said you'll wash the curtains tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes, a spark of defiance igniting. "Wash what? Mtchew. Crazy bitch. She must be delusional to think I'd leave my exam to wash curtains."
"What are you gonna do?"
"I'm sneaking out for school tomorrow. What else can she do besides insult my dead mother and give me more punishment?"
The last shirt left my hands red and raw, but I ignored it. We had maids, a washing machine—yet here I was, suffering petty punishments for my mother's choices. I thought of Threnax again—not for revenge yet, but as a reminder of the injustice I endured. How could I suffer for their sins while my father enjoyed life freely? Seleya or no Seleya, I was leaving tomorrow. I was reclaiming my future.
"Zari, help me iron my uniform for tomorrow, please," I said.
"On it," she said, rising gracefully. Gratitude pooled in my chest. Without Zari, I'd be swallowed entirely by the mansion's darkness.
Laughter echoed as maids straightened, murmuring greetings to Olivia Kentrich and Marcus Jonathan. "Dad! Mom! Welcome!" Seleya called, her voice sharp under a layer of eager sweetness. She sprinted to hug them, oblivious to the storm brewing in me. The butler, Chen, motioned for the maids to take the newcomers' luggage.
"What's going on?" I asked, spotting Zari in the hall.
"Step-witch and loser dad are back," she said, disgust and amusement mixing in her voice.
"Really? I thought you said tomorrow."
"I said tomorrow because I heard Seleya telling Catherina, but apparently, they arrived early."