The days blurred into one another for Aurora. Each morning brought new tasks, new humiliations, and the same oppressive weight that pressed on her chest. Her master’s shadow loomed over her constantly, his voice echoing in her ears even when he wasn’t near.
He didn’t need to remind her of his power. She felt it in the way the maids averted their eyes, in the way her steps faltered when she was summoned, in the way her heart raced when she heard his voice.
But something inside her was changing.
At first, it had been a flicker-small, fragile, almost nonexistent. But now, that flicker was growing into something stronger. It wasn’t courage, not yet. It was anger. Quiet, smoldering anger that lay beneath the surface of her fear.
A Miserable Morning
“Move faster, girl!” His voice thundered through the room as Aurora scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees. The wooden bucket beside her sloshed, spilling water onto the clean tiles. She winced, bracing herself for the storm.
He was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression one of irritation and cruel delight. “You’re slow,” he snapped. “Do you think I have all day to wait for you to finish?”
Aurora’s hands trembled as she gripped the cloth tighter. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered.
“Sorry won’t clean my floors!” he barked, stepping closer.
She lowered her head, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he demanded.
Aurora forced herself to lift her head, her wide eyes meeting his sharp gaze. He smirked, clearly enjoying her fear.
“You’re pathetic,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “No wonder no one wanted you.”
The words stung, but she didn’t let them show. Instead, she lowered her gaze again, focusing on the task at hand.
“You’ll stay here until the entire floor is spotless,” he said coldly. “And if it’s not done by the time I return, you’ll regret it.”
He turned on his heel and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Aurora let out a shaky breath, her hands tightening into fists. The anger inside her flared again, stronger this time.
A Flicker of Resistance
Hours passed, and Aurora finished scrubbing the floor. Her back ached, her hands were raw, and her knees throbbed from the hard tiles. She sat back, wiping the sweat from her brow, and allowed herself a moment to breathe.
Her thoughts drifted to Maya, the maid who had shown her kindness. Maya’s words echoed in her mind: “You can’t fight him now. But one day, you’ll have your chance.”
Aurora clung to those words like a lifeline. She didn’t know how or when, but she promised herself she would find a way out of this.
The door creaked open, and Aurora’s heart leapt. She turned quickly, expecting him, but it was Maya.
“You’re still in here?” Maya whispered, her eyes scanning the room nervously.
Aurora nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said I couldn’t leave until it was done.”
Maya sighed, stepping closer. “He enjoys making people miserable,” she said softly. “It’s how he keeps control.”
Aurora looked up at her, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and despair. “Why do you stay?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Maya hesitated, her expression conflicted. “Because running isn’t an option,” she said finally. “Not yet.”
“But how do you keep going?” Aurora pressed. “How do you survive this?”
Maya knelt beside her, her voice low and steady. “You find something to hold onto,” she said. “A memory, a dream, anything. And you remind yourself of it every day. That’s how you survive.”
Aurora’s throat tightened. “I don’t know if I have anything like that,” she admitted.
Maya placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then find something,” she said firmly. “Even if it’s just the thought of getting out of here. Hold onto that, Aurora. Don’t let him take it from you.”
The Master’s Return
Later that evening, Aurora was summoned to the dining room. She stood by the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, as her master dined alone at the long, lavish table.
He didn’t look up when she entered. Instead, he gestured for her to approach.
“Pour me some wine,” he said, his tone dismissive.
Aurora moved to the side table where the decanter sat, her hands trembling as she picked it up. She poured the wine carefully, praying she wouldn’t spill a single drop.
When she placed the glass in front of him, he finally looked up, his eyes narrowing as he studied her.
“You look like a frightened little mouse,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, are you always this useless, or is it just here?”
Aurora swallowed hard, her knuckles white as she clenched her hands together. “I… I’m trying,” she said softly.
“Trying?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Trying isn’t good enough.”
Her head dropped, her shoulders hunching instinctively.
“Stand up straight,” he snapped.
She obeyed immediately, her body rigid as she forced herself to stand tall.
“Good,” he said, his voice softer but no less menacing. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
Aurora’s jaw tightened, her anger bubbling just beneath the surface. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, but she bit her tongue.
He rose from his seat, walking around the table to stand in front of her. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinched at his touch, and his smile widened.
“You’re so easy to scare,” he murmured. “I wonder how long it’ll take before you break completely.”
Aurora said nothing, her eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder.
“You’ll learn, little one,” he said, his voice low and mocking. “You’ll learn that resisting me only makes things worse.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, trembling but unbroken.
Quiet Resolve
That night, as Aurora lay on her cot, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts a tangled web of fear, anger, and determination. She thought of Maya’s words, of the flicker of hope she’d clung to earlier.
She wasn’t ready to fight him. Not yet. But she would survive.
And one day, she would find a way to escape this place.
For now, she would hold onto that thought like a lifeline.
She wouldn’t let him win.
Not forever.