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I grimace in pain as I carry water back from the well at the bottom of the hill to fill a bath for Merelda. Just one of the seemingly endless tasks she’s found to fill every waking moment.
And, should I pause to catch my breath? She’ll be at my heels, complaining about my laziness as she tacks on a dozen more chores for me to finish before bed.
After the incident in the kitchen, Merelda seems hell bent on making my waking life as miserable as possible. I have no choice but to go about my chores in silence, praying for Father’s quick return … or something, anything else to distract her.
Exhausted, I drag myself to bed later and later each night. Not only have the chores taken their toll on me, but Amadeus has made it obvious he intends to corner me.
I won’t allow it, no matter how tired I may be.
Evading his advances has become a constant part of my day, and I often find myself on edge as I peer around corners and press myself into shadows in the very house that was once my safe haven.
Thankfully, the makeshift bar I’ve managed to place across my door has kept me safe at night.
Waking in the morning, my eyelids are heavy as I prepare for the day ahead. It’s becoming harder and harder to drag myself from bed.
Going about my morning chores, I do my best to blend in with the stones of the walls. If I were more fortunate, my step family would simply forget that I existed. Yet, that seems the furthest thing from Merelda and Amadeus’s minds.
Cyprian, on the other hand, seems to be embracing the distraction. I’ve barely seen more than a glimpse of him since breakfast the morning my father left.
Now, days have passed since he last returned home, much to Merelda’s displeasure. While her words are always sharper toward me when she paces the floor in worry over her youngest son, her hands are not.
It’s only when the steady thrum of her heels against the wooden floor stops that I’m jolted from my thoughts, my ears prickling from the sudden silence.
“Cyprian, dear, is that you?” Merelda calls, worrying the ring on her hand as she peers out at the front entryway.
I tense where I am across the room, slowly rising from the floor I’ve spent the last few hours tirelessly scrubbing. There’s a long pause before Cyprian steps into view, looking much worse for the wear than usual.
His eyes find me before quickly darting away … just as they have each time he’s returned home since Father left.
Collecting my things, I move silently through the room in an effort to leave them both behind as quickly as possible. I swear I can feel his eyes on me, even as keep my own trained on the floor.
“Where on earth have you been?” Merelda asks, her voice dry.
I pause, just outside of Merelda’s peripherals as I wait for him to answer, not wanting to draw her attention to me. Daring a look at him, I find him watching me, not so much as sparing a glance at his mother.
My heart thuds in my chest as I quickly drop my eyes again.
“Cyprian, answer me at once!”
Again, he says nothing, this time turning to disappear down the hall even as Merelda hurries to the doorway to stare after him.
I watch as Merelda worries her lower lip between her teeth until we’re both startled by the slamming of his bedroom door. It’s obvious where he’s been, and undoubtedly, where he’ll soon be again.
He’ll change his clothes, leaving the torn and bloodied garments behind before disappearing again. If she’s lucky, he might stay long enough to grab a bite to eat from the kitchen, but it’s unlikely.
“That boy,” Merelda mutters to herself before glancing back at me. Her eyes narrow as she snaps, “You, girl. I expect you to tend to his garments. I want them soaked and mended by morning. Bring him something to eat too, quickly now.”
I swallow back any response I might have to this, and simply nod once.
“I still expect these floors to be shining before you go to bed. The chicken coop needs cleaning as well, and the pantry seems to have collected ants. Oh, and I think we’ll have a chicken pot pie for dinner.”
I bite my tongue at this. Mentioning that we have but a few chickens left will only send her into a fit of rage. She watches me for a second longer before disappearing into a room down the hall, finally leaving me alone to tend to go about my day.
I listen for the sound of the lock, letting a small smile form on my face when I finally hear it. She won’t be out for hours, if not the rest of the day.
I know what she keeps in there, and the strange mind-altering mixtures she likes to imbibe on days like this.
These are the days I like best. The ones where Amadeus is nowhere to be found, and I’m left alone to work without Merelda scrutinizing my every move.
