Chapter 4 BEGINNING OF SUFFERING

Eleanor's POV

I had hoped that my torment would stop once I was removed from Vincent's presence and cage, I never knew that more suffering and beating awaited me. I briefly thought that Kieran Lancaster might be my way out of a nightmare, my way out of severe punishment and bitterness, but I was mistaken, I was wrong, so utterly mistaken.

The mansion was really beautiful, with really white designs, endless marble corridors, and fine chandeliers that shone like diamonds. It looks like a scene out of a fairytale in movies, yet to me, it felt like just another prison, a place where I didn't fit in, a place where I looked like a dog maybe. As soon as I entered, a deep sense of unwelcomeness ran over me and I knew instantly that my suffering just began.

I had not even gotten into the house before a loud sound of heels echoed carelessly down the hall like a drum, followed by a voice that reeked with cold hate.

"So this is what you brought home?"

I slowly turned my head, my body shaking with fear, to find Kieran's mother at the top of a grand staircase looking so scary, so hot, burning with hate.

She was the epitome of beauty in her expensive dress, her hair styled into a tight bun that showed her sharp and beautiful face. Yet her beauty brushed against the deep hatred showing in her icy blue eyes; God, this woman hated me at first sight. She didn't just dislike me, she detested me, or let me say she hated my existence.

Walking down the stairs knowingly with measured steps, the sharp sound of her heels against the floor felt like a warning sign. I stood frozen with fear, too weak to respond or run, my legs paining me due to the struggles I had endured during the auction, and my wrists ached from the chains that had bound me.

"Is she sick?" she mocked, holding her nose in distaste like I am a piglet. "She looks like a rat that just moved out of the gutter, smelly and ugly thing."

I bow my head in shame, a wave of shame flooding over me as I drop my gaze to the shining floor. I felt like a rat, dirty, weak, and unwanted.

Kieran let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his head as if he had anticipated her reaction. "Mother"

"Don't 'mother' me!" she snapped, her tone sharp as glass. "You brought this thing into my home? My home, Kieran?!"

She turned fully toward me, looking at my bruised skin and the torn dress that gummed to my frail form. The longer she stared, the deeper her hate for me grew. "She doesn't belong here. You bought her like an animal at an auction, and you expect me to accept this, this ugly-looking thing?"

Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, but I held my tongue, holding the lump forming in my throat.

Kieran's face remained unreadable. "She's my wife now."

An oppressive silence filled the room. I dared not lift my head, yet I could feel the atmosphere shift. The moment those words left his lips, something within his mother snapped like it was electric.

Then, before I could digest it, there was a sudden, sharp hot pain.

A hot slap hit my face with such force that my knees tuned. My vision faded, my skin ached, and I collapsed to the floor like I was dying.

"How dare you stand there and let him call you his wife?" she hissed. "You are nothing but a whore he picked up from the trash you stupid idiot!"

Tears formed in my eyes, but I held them back. I couldn't afford to cry; if I started, I might never stop.

"Look at you," she scoffed. "Skinny, filthy, pathetic. What could you possibly offer my son? Love? Power? Respect?" She looked down, her voice dripping with hate. "You are a stain on this family's name, and I will ensure you never forget it."

I shivered, curling in on myself. I had endured violence before at the hands of Vincent's men, by strangers willing to pay for my suffering, and by monsters hiding in the shadows. But this was different; it was personal. This woman took pleasure in my pain, she hated me.

Straightening up, she dusted her hands as if I had stained her. "Take her to the servants' quarters. She doesn't deserve a room here."

I raised my head weakly, trying to plead for mercy, but Kieran seized my arm, pulling me up before I could speak. He turned his gaze as he led me away from his mother's anger, away from the warmth of the grand living room and into the cold isolation of my new reality, my new prison maybe.

*****

The servants' quarters were dirty and devoid of windows, with a mattress on the floor barely big enough for one person. The walls were bare and rough, and the air was thick with dust and smell of urine. It was colder than anywhere I had ever been, a cold sensation that ran into my bones, making me feel cast aside like a rotten egg.

I sat on the bed, shaking as I hugged my knees to my chest. My cheek throbbed from the slap, my ears still ringing from the cruel laughter of the maids who had observed me from the shadows.

"Did you see how Madam hit her?"

"Serves her right. Thinking she could become part of this family."

"She won't last a week here."

I pressed my fingers against my head, attempting to block out their taunts, but their words brushed under my skin like poison. I had assumed nothing could break me again. I had survived Vincent.

I had survived torment. Yet this... this was something different. This was an anguish that made me wish I had never woken up.

*****

I didn't sleep. I couldn't. My body ached, and my mind was filled with memories I longed to forget. Yet morning arrived with more suffering and pain.

Before dawn, I was pulled out of bed by a senior maid. "Lady Lancaster has assigned you a task," she said with a sneer, a grin full of hate.

I barely processed her words before I was dragged into the hallway. My legs felt unsteady, and my stomach twisted with hunger, but I forced myself to stay upright.

Then I realized where they were taking me. To the bathrooms.

Buckets of dirty water sat outside the door, alongside old rags that smell of mold and chemicals.

The maid sneered. "Scrub them. All of them. And if you miss even a spot..." She leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. "You'll regret it, you whore."

I swallowed hard.

Slowly, I sank to my knees and picked up a rag.

My hands shook as I began scrubbing the floor, my body weak and my stomach turning with nausea. My fingers froze from the cold water, and my vision swayed with exhaustion.

I couldn't tell how long I worked, minutes or hours. It all blurred into pain. Then, just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I heard a voice behind me.

"Pathetic loser."I turned slightly, my heart sinking at the sight of her.

Bianca.

She moved toward me, her heels clicking against the tiles, a smug smile playing on her lips as she circled me like a predator trying to kill.

"You look just where you belong," she said.

I couldn't respond. I was too exhausted, too tired. Too broken.

Suddenly, she punched me.

I fell into a bucket of dirty water, the cold, grimy liquid soaking my dress, hair, and skin. I gasped at the chill, my body shaking uncontrollably.

Laughter filled the air.

"Oops," Bianca giggled. "You're such a mess, Sinclair."Tears threatened to overflow, but I held them at bay.

Because I understood this was only the beginning. And if I showed any weakness now, they would never stop.....