Chapter 2 Memories

Sophie's POV

"So, So, where are you? Are you ready to please me tonight?"

I sped off my bed and hid in my closet. He was coming to get me. He was going to find me. There was no escaping the room. Even if I could, he would still find me and punish me for trying to escape him. He pulled on his boxer briefs, smiling deviously at me. I knew his intentions and I began to cry. I came out of my hiding place, my hands behind my back.

"Please, I will be a good girl. I won't run away again. I will do what you want. Just please, don't hurt me, please," I whimpered and begged

shamelessly. My tears meant nothing to him; his mind was already made up.

"I won't hurt you, So. I just want to give you some lessons. You like lessons, don't you? You did good and you are a rather fast learner for your age. Now just open your legs for me a little wider, baby and make sure you scream a lot louder."

I moved backwards, trying to create some space between us, a foolhardy move.

"So," he called my name in a fake soft tone, "why do you do this everytime? Do you like the whip so bad? Well then, you will get as many strokes as you like when I'm done with you."

He shed off his boxer briefs and pranced towards me. I was too weak to stop him, weak fron hunger, sickness and crying. I could only scream away the pain.

"Sophia, Sophia! Oh my God! You are still in bed?! Wake up, Sophia! You are making such a loud noise."

I leapt off my bed, sending my unseen assailant to the floor and scrambling to my feet. My tormentor in reality was actually my co-maid, Mabelle who was currently giving me the evil eye, wide-eyed in part anger and part shock. I looked at her with guilt, hanging my head as a form of apology.

"That's it? You are a crazy person, Sophia! You pushed me to the ground like a rag doll yet you cannot utter a single word of apology. You disgust me. I wonder why Madam allowed you into these premises. You need to leave before you maim us all, you psycho," Mabelle fired, dusting her uniform and getting up, she slammed my door hard behind her.

Mabelle was the head of the maids working in Miller Mansion. She was a favourite because she had been living with them since she was a little girl. She was almost kin but for the sake of professionalism. It was true that I never spoke to anyone, not even Madam Veronica. I lived in my head, constantly nodding or shaking my head as answers to any given question. When neither of that could be an answer, I would shrug or hang my head in. Everyone thought I was rude, some even assumed I was a mute but I cared less.

The only person I respected was my employer, Madam Veronica, the aged mistress of the Miller Mansions and the proprietress of the well-renowed Philadelphia Event Planning Enterprise or PEPE as I usually referred to it in my head. Clients mostly called it Philly's for easy recall. She was my saviour and I owed her my life. She was particularly fond of me even in my reluctance to speak and this often made Mabelle jealous. I knew that the episode between I and Mabelle was far from over but no one runs away from a war for the fear of being shot. I made my bed and ambled to the bathroom.

Mabelle's POV

I stood beside Madam Veronica, watching her go through her daily routine: drinking mint tea and reading the morning paper. I did not expect the question she suddenly threw at me.

"Mabelle, what was the tension between you and Sophia this morning about?"

Finally, I got to tell what I had witnessed.

"Madam, I went to Sophia's room to fetch her before she could sleep the whole day away. Instead, I found her thrashing wildly on her bed as if she was battling with some unseen forces. I tried to wake her up but she threw me across the room. Poor me who was only trying to help," I concluded, playing the martyr.

Madam Veronica was worried visibly at my report. She closed the newspaper and laid down her teacup on its saucer. I was disapppointed that she was not alarmed on my behalf, rather she was worried about that washed-out half-wit. I pouted im childish distress but she paid me no heed.

"Mabelle, Sophia is a delicate issue in this house. I am afraid that her nightmares are as a result of some earlier trauma she must have undergone in the past but until she decides to speak again, we cannot say for sure. I want you to take her as your own sister, Mabelle. She needs a friend even though she might never say so. Can you give me your word on this?"

I so do not want to make that promise but Madam Veronica was like a mother to me. She had rescued me from a slave camp when I was only eight years old. She had saved my life and I was eternally grateful to her. Nevertheless, I didn't want to be friends with a girl who thought too much of herself. She never said a word to anyone and it was sickening.

"I will do my best, ma'am, my very best," I said meekly, knowing it would please her. She gave me a little smile in return and sipped her tea.

"That's all I ask of you, Mabelle," she affirmed and went back to her reading.

"I beg to take my leave, ma'am," I implored and she waved me away. I curtsied respectfully for effect and made my silent exit. Entering the kitchen, I saw Sophie mopping silently as usual, not singing or whistling a tune; just dead silence. She was probably in a hurry since she was late for her catering class. Well, I thought, we will see about that. Walking into the kitchen, I upset a cup of coffee deliberately and it spilled on the tiled floor. Sophie winced as she stared at the obvious stain, straightening up at once. Speak, you freak, I mused angrily.

"Oops," I interjected, bringing my fingers to my lips, "Looks like you have to start all over again. Let me help you get a headstart." I dug my heels into the spilled coffee and took my sticky footsteps all around the kitchen. When I was satisfied, I came in front of her and smirked.

"You better get started, freak. There's nothing Madam Veronica hates more than a dirty kitchen."

I could see her lower lip quivering either in brewing tears or in anger. I didn't care to know which it was before I sauntered out of the room.