Aurora sipped the glass of water, her hands trembling so much she spilled a few drops on the bedsheet. She set it down on the table beside her and glanced at the maid, who sat silently at the edge of the bed, looking at the floor.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Aurora’s voice broke it, soft and shaky. “What’s your name?”
The maid looked up, surprised. “Maya,” she said quickly, like she hadn’t expected the question. “My name is Maya.”
“Maya,” Aurora repeated, tasting the name like it was foreign. She nodded slowly. “Why did you help me?”
Maya hesitated, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “I don’t know if you’d call it help,” she said finally. “I did what I could. But… I know how it feels.”
Aurora tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You know how it feels?”
Maya’s face tightened, her eyes darting to the door as if she was afraid someone might be listening. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’ve been here for years, Aurora. Longer than I can remember. When I first came here, I thought I wouldn’t survive. I thought… I’d die in this house.”
Aurora’s breath caught. “And now?”
Maya’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Now I survive. Day by day, I survive. That’s all we can do.”
Aurora shook her head, tears stinging her eyes again. “I don’t want to survive,” she said, her voice breaking. “I want to escape. I want to leave this place. I can’t… I can’t live like this.”
Maya reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly. “I understand,” she said, her voice fierce but still quiet. “I felt the same way when I first came here. I thought if I just ran, if I just fought back hard enough, I’d get out. But this house…” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “This house is a prison. No one gets out. Not unless he lets you.”
Aurora’s shoulders slumped, the weight of Maya’s words settling over her like a stone. “So, what? I’m just supposed to give up? Let him do whatever he wants to me?”
“No,” Maya said firmly. “You don’t give up. You survive. You stay quiet. You don’t give him a reason to break you more than he already has. And you wait.”
“Wait for what?” Aurora demanded, anger flaring in her chest. “For him to get bored of me? For someone else to take his place? How is that living?”
Maya’s grip tightened on her hand. “You wait for your chance,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Your chance to get free. To run. To fight back. But you can’t do that if you’re broken, Aurora. If you let him destroy you, there won’t be anything left of you to save.”
Aurora stared at her, the fire in her chest dimming as Maya’s words sank in. She wanted to argue, to tell Maya she didn’t understand, but the look in her eyes-the pain, the exhaustion, the quiet strength-stopped her.
“You’ve tried to escape,” Aurora said softly, a statement rather than a question.
Maya nodded slowly. “Once,” she admitted. “A long time ago. I thought I could make it, but I didn’t get far. And when they brought me back…” She trailed off, her face paling at the memory. “I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since.”
Aurora’s stomach churned. “What did he do to you?”
Maya’s eyes flickered with fear, but she held Aurora’s gaze. “Enough,” she said simply. “Enough to teach me that I couldn’t fight him. Not yet.”
Aurora’s throat tightened, and she looked away, staring at the faint patterns on the wall. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that,” she whispered.
“You are,” Maya said, her voice firm. “You don’t feel it now, but you are. You survived last night, didn’t you?”
“Barely,” Aurora muttered, her voice shaking. “I feel like I’m already broken.”
“You’re not,” Maya insisted. “If you were broken, you wouldn’t be talking to me. You wouldn’t be crying. Broken people don’t feel anything, Aurora. You still feel. That means you’re still fighting.”
Aurora blinked back tears, her chest tightening. “I feel like I’m drowning,” she admitted.
Maya nodded slowly, her expression softening. “I know,” she said. “I know it feels like that now. But you won’t drown, Aurora. You’ll find a way to breathe. I promise.”
The words, though simple, wrapped around Aurora like a lifeline. She clung to them, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind.
“What happens now?” she asked after a long silence, her voice small.
Maya’s face darkened. “Now you do what he wants,” she said quietly. “You don’t fight him. You don’t beg him. And you don’t give him a reason to hurt you more than he already has. You keep your head down, and you wait. That’s the only way to survive.”
Aurora bit her lip, her tears threatening to spill again. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she said. “I don’t know if I can just… let him win.”
“It’s not about letting him win,” Maya said, her tone firm but gentle. “It’s about staying alive. Staying whole. Winning comes later, Aurora. But first, you have to survive.”
Aurora stared at her, her heart pounding. “How do you do it?” she asked. “How do you live with it?”
Maya’s smile was bitter, her eyes distant. “You don’t,” she said simply. “You don’t live with it. You carry it. Every day, you carry it. But you don’t let it crush you. You can’t.”
Aurora closed her eyes, her breath hitching as the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm her again. “I’m scared, Maya,” she whispered.
Maya squeezed her hand. “I know,” she said softly. “But you’re not alone. I’ll help you. As much as I can, I’ll help you.”
Aurora opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto Maya’s. “Why?” she asked again.
Maya hesitated, her lips pressing together. “Because someone helped me once,” she said quietly. “When I thought I couldn’t keep going, someone was there for me. And even though she didn’t make it, her kindness saved me. If I can do the same for you, even a little, then it’s worth it.”
Aurora’s chest tightened, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Maya in a desperate, trembling hug. Maya stiffened for a moment before relaxing, her arms coming up to hold Aurora tightly.
“Thank you,” Aurora whispered, her voice breaking.
Maya held her close, her own tears falling silently. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said softly. “Just promise me you’ll keep fighting. That’s all I need.”
“I promise,” Aurora said, the words shaky but sincere.
They sat like that for a long time, holding onto each other like lifelines in the storm. And for the first time since arriving in that house, Aurora felt a fragile spark of hope flicker to life. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
For now, it was enough.