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Rain pounded on the windows and wind howled like a wounded animal through the trees outside, the branches of the willow trees scraping against the walls as if nature itself was trying to claw its way in. Inside the manor, though, it was almost peaceful.
J shot a glare at another servant as they tracked mud across the hardwood floors that she had just finished cleaning. The worker avoided making eye contact and quickened their pace, disappearing around the corner at the end of the hall. J muttered angrily under her breath as she picked her mop back up and began to clean.
Just as she started, a scream cut through the silence.
J nearly dropped the mop, just barely managing to keep her grip. The burst of fear that had shot through her was replaced by a creeping sense of dread, a feeling she was all too familiar with by now. She would’ve been able to recognise Tessa’s voice anywhere, no matter the situation. Against her better judgement, J set her mop against the wall and started towards the source of the noise.
This was stupid. It’s not like she could actually do anything. She never could. The one time she had tried, Tessa had only ended up in an even worse situation trying to defend her. J couldn’t help her resentment and anger towards Mrs. Elliott. So what if she was technically J’s boss? She was horrible. Especially to Tessa.
As J got closer, she could hear Tessa’s muffled voice pleading and frantically apologising for whatever it was Mrs. Elliott had decided she had done wrong this time. No matter what the ‘mistake’ was though, Tessa never deserved this. Especially not from her own mother. To be fair, Mrs. Elliott’s twisted idea of ‘discipline’ wasn’t something anyone deserved, but especially not her.
J reached the end of the hall, finding the library door slightly ajar, and upon hearing the shouting coming from inside, J silently peeked around the doorway to peer into the room, just barely nudging the door open far enough for her to properly see.
The metallic smell of blood and the sharp, unpleasant stench of alcohol mixed in the air inside the room. Through the windows, a bright flash of light cast long shadows across the room as a lightning strike lit up the sky, causing the power to cut off momentarily and making the lights inside the manor flicker. Glass shards lay scattered on and around a nearby table. A dirty shovel lay abandoned on the carpeted floor near where J stood, the very same shovel that Tessa always took with her on her trips to the scrapyard for scavenging. Tessa was half-slumped against the wall, holding her bloodied arms up over her face and mumbling something that vaguely sounded like a string of desperate apologies. J remained frozen in the doorway. She had expected bruising, maybe even a few small cuts, but this… this was much farther than Mrs. Elliott had gone before.
There was something about the way she spoke, her words slurred and clumsy where she’d usually have perfect pronunciation, and something about the way she swayed a little bit with every movement that made J feel like something was off. She couldn’t quite figure out why, though. That was, until she caught a glimpse of a broken wine bottle in Mrs. Elliott’s hand, its jagged edges dripping with fresh blood.
Mrs. Elliott pulled her arm back as if to strike again, and J suddenly had the most horrifying realisation she’d ever had in her entire life.
She really was going to kill Tessa this time, wasn’t she?
J barely had time to think before she locked eyes with Tessa. She saw the fear and pain in her friend’s eyes, she saw the blood, the scars, the helplessness…
This had to stop. J knew what she had to do. She couldn’t let this happen ever again.
Mrs. Elliott didn’t notice as one of her servants stepped into the room. She didn’t hear anyone drag the shovel up off the ground. She didn’t pay any mind to her daughter’s sudden gasp or the way she went to cover her eyes again. She didn’t see the shadow on the wall in front of her grow larger, or see J haul the shovel up over her head.
A crow screamed outside.
Mrs. Elliott lifted the bottle for another strike.
Thunder shook the air, echoing through the empty halfway outside the closed library door.
Never again.
J swung.