CLOSER

Author's POV

A year ago

"Wilfred?"

"Yes, ma'am?" her chauffeur replied, his eyes expertly fixed on the road.

"What do you think when you see this shade of colour?" She propped a shopping bag on her laps, pulling on a part of an evening gown folded neatly in the bag towards Wilfred. He mentally rolled his eyes. Why she usually asked his take on topics of fashion he would never understand. He glanced at the dress for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

"That's peach, right?" Wilfred asked to be exact.

"Of course, it is," Madam Veronica replied with an obvious eye roll.

"Just wanted to be accurate, ma'am. The colour looks warm and respectful. It's quite a mature hue, very suitable to sophisticated people," he concluded, his explanation almost as explicit as that of a fashion designer. Madam Veronica was very impressed with his answer.

"Wow, such wise words. I should probably take you with me when I go shopping for lingerie later. You have quite an exquisite discernment."

"Hard pass, ma'am. I'm afraid I will have to decline on your request."

Madam Veronica's chuckle filled the car immediately. Minutes later, silence reigned again as the chief occupant got busy on her phone and Wilfred minded his driving squarely. The car was passing by a dark lane when suddenly a loud scream was released into the air.

"What was that?" Madam Veronica enquired, her curiosity piqued.

"It can't be anything good. I have to get you out of this vicinity, ma'am, right now." He stiffened and started swiveling the car around.

"No!" she ordered, "That person might need my help. We absolutely cannot just walk away! Well, I know I can't because I have a conscience. Now, stop this car!"

Wilfred brought the car to a stop eventually. He felt scolded by her words and they ate at him sharply. He was not happy with her decision but he could not question her orders no matter how lenient she was to him. He was just the chauffeur and he would never forget his place. If anything sinister happened, he would be glad to die with a pure-hearted woman as Madam Veronica.

"What do we do now, ma'am?"

She heaved breaths in and out, trying to think up something. Meanwhile, another scream erupted, filling the atmosphere with apprehension. Madam Veronica cringed in panic but refused to run away like a scaredy cat.

"Wilfred...do you have a gun?"

Wilfred hesitated briefly, avoiding her eyes for a while before nodding in the affirmative.

"Good. Now give it to me."

Wilfred's jaw fell open in a rare, surprised way.

"Ma'am! You don't know how to use a gun. I better come with you so I can do any necessary shooting. It's safer that way."

"Ok then, since you volunteered. Let's go."

She opened the car door tentatively, trying to hide her fear but failing drastically. Wilfred could not understand the woman's constant zeal to help people. She was a wealthy matron, a billionaire who had everything money could buy. As far as Wilfred knew, billionaires were usually arrogant, stuffed and conceited, caring only about their welfare but Madam Veronica was different. In all his services as a chauffeur, he had never met anyone like her. She was a saintly mother figure, loved by all who knew her through and through.

Currently, she was leading the way into a probable dangerous hideout, not caring about her own safety.

"Hello?" Madam Veronica called out in a hush-hush voice. Wilfred whipped her a look, worried about her choice of words. She shrugged and tried to make a whistle out of her fingers and her lips but it resulted to a muted failure. Wilfred shook his head to avoid laughing and gave her the whistle she could not produce. His was louder, piercing the night and echoing along the lane.

As quick as a flash of lightening, a group of raggedy men broke out of an apartment, running wildly in all directions. Wilfred pulled his mistress out of harm's way just in time and the lurky shadows had hidden them perfectly. The men had left the apartment door swinging ajar and it was so dark inside the house. Madam Veronica was scouched close to the ground and she pushed her fist against her pacemaker, exchanging heavy breaths with the environment.

Wilfred helped her to her feet after she had gotten a hold of her emotions.

"Ma'am, I beg you, let us leave this place. It is not safe for someone of your magnitude. Please, ma'am," he pleaded, eyes scanning the area. Madam Veronica hardened her eyes and pushed his hands off his arm. That screaming person needed help and by God, she would help or die trying. She walked forward towards the open door, throwing all caution to the wind.

"Hello?" she called again, this time cupping her lips with her palms to amplify her voice. In response to her call, she got a croaky whimper and a light shuffling of feet. She switched on her tiny flashlight and what she saw almost made her throw up. A young girl was sprawled across the floor on her belly, scrambling painfully to crawl to the open door. She was covered with blood, all manner of injuries and cuts but she kept trying to crawl, wincing and groaning whenever she rubbed a raw spot too hard or too fast.

The light emanating from the flashlight had gotten the girl's attention and she came to a halt. She raised her head slowly and arched it sideways to see around the light but the identity of the stranger remained hidden in form of a silhouette. She gasped weakly, raising her palm to block out the light and like that, her eyes rolled in and she blacked out.

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.

Ten months ago

Sophie's POV

I laid on my fluffy white bed, my eyes closed but my ears alert for any stray sound. I was on my back, my mind trying to soothe me. For so long, my imagination has been the only thing keeping me going. Throughout the episodes of the abuse I had suffered during my childhood, I had managed to create a soothing paradise in my imagination, a place where I could go to rest and recuperate my body.

Im my personal paradise, all my friends were there and the fun of it all was that they competed for my affection, for my friendship., They cared for me and always comforted me whenever I almost gave up on living. My stepfather could rape me as much as he desired but he could never harm my friends. Somehow it gave me some kind of power over him, having something that was out of his reach.

As if I had summoned him, one of my friends, Harry came to sit beside me. My eyes were still shut but I could feel his intangible presence. I was not afraid of him; he would never hurt me.

"So, how are you today?" he asked gently.

"I'm okay," I responded, not sparing me a glance

"Then why are you ignoring me? I told you I love you but you never said it back. Do....do you hate me?" he asked in despair.

Even I could not miss the misery in his voice. Immediately, I sat up and scrambled close to him. I pulled on his chin so that he would look at me.

"No, Harry. I don't hate you at all. How could I? You are the only one I love," I said, trying to reassure him but his eyes held disbelief. He hung his head, shaking it violently to get my hand off.

"I know you. I also see you staring at that male doctor whenever he is in your room. It is he you desire and not me. Don't try to deceive yourself and least of all, me."

He looked so angry that I wanted to shove myself under my bed and whimper. But I had to placate him somehow. I loved him with all my heart and I could not do without him. If Harry left me, I would go insane sooner or later.

I fell on my knees, begging for his pardon.

"Harry, please don't do this to me. Please, forgive me! I won't gape at the doctor anymore. I'll be good, I promise you, Harry. I beg you, have mercy, Harry! My love, please forgive me. I'm so sorry and I will never offend you again."

He had almost gone but he looked back at me tentatively. I could hear my loud breathing.

"Do you promise to love only me forever?"

I wasted no time to nod my head vehemently. He smiled like a predator stalking his prey.

"Okay then. I forgive you but I still have to go. I've got other things to do, So."

Fear dripped into my

system. He no longer cared for my welfare as before. I started screaming out loud:

"Nooooooo! Harry, noooooo! Please don''t, go! Nooooo!"

Suddenly, I was brought back to reality. No one was in the room with me but I could feel some sort of static electricity crackling in the air. I could hear myself screaming so I wasn't surprised when I saw the doctor and his staff of nurses run into my room. They gathered around my bed, spitting all manner of medical jargon they had acquired in medical school. I felt myself growing weaker and my screams subsided as a nurse injected a substance in my IV bag. My eyes drifted shut and I surrended myself to unconsciousness.

Two hours later

Shadows stalked my bed, voices calm and sweet spoke above my body but too tired to get up, I remained lying down. Whatever they had injected into me must have been very strong and effective. My head was feeling foggy and I could not concentrate on a particular thought.

"She went into shock, Madam. In all my days of medical service, I have never witnessed such a shattering outburst as hers. It was like she was being suppressed or suffering from indepth agony. Her screams were so bloodcurdling that I had to order that sleeping draughts be administered into her IV bag," the doctor explained.

It seemed like whomever he was speaking to was more eager to listen than to speak. It was almost a monologue, like the type one has with his reflection in the mirror.

"So far, we have managed to salve all her wounds but emotionally......this girl is broken. Her zeal to recover has been shattered by whomever did this to her although I perceive that this is definitely not the first time this is happening."

As if, I scoffed inwardly. That was the biggest understatement of the year. Not the first time? It was probably the 100th time or more than that. From my stepfather to his drinking buddies to his poker club members and friends, it was a wonder that I had not been called out for having contracted any form of STDs. He had been cautious concerning that area, perhaps.

My stepfather got married to my mother while I was in boarding school. She had kept me a secret from him because of his violent, dominant attitude. He always wanted sex whether my mother gave her consent or not. If she refused him, he would tie her to his bed, rape her and leave her hungry for days. If only I had known about him in time, I would not have come home and my mother would still be alive. I had planned to come home but as a,surprise to my mother. At the end, my surprise resulted in her doom. He was so angry with her for concealing my existence for so long that he broke a chair over her head.

She was rushed to a clinic but there was nothing to be done for her. On her death bed, she asked me to forgive her for leaving me to that monster. She had sworn that she had never wanted me to meet him but as it stood then, he was my only legal guardian. She encouraged me to run away before he would come to pick me up after she must have died. I kissed her goodbye and raced out of her ward.

Unfortunately for me, I ran into the open arms of my stepfather who put up a caring act for the benefit of the medical workers. I squirmed uncomfortably to get out of his hold but the glare he fired me froze all my attempts to escape. He kissed my forehead and took me back to my mother's room. When Riele, my mom, saw me in his arms, she panicked and started hyperventilating. He had smirked dangerously, saying:

"I will make sure to continue where I left off. You can count on that. Bye, Riele."

My mother tried to scream but no sound came out of her tiny lips. She pushed herself off her bed, trying to get to me but to no avail. She died an hour later of a heart attack. That was the beginning of my torments.

"Doctor, were you able to determine her age?" His visitor- a female- finally spoke. Her voice was familiar.....ah-hah! It was Madam Veronica.

"I'm not very certain but I can say she is between the ages of 19-22. Maybe when she is awake, she can tell us."

As if.

Madam Veronica sounded perplexed.

"Do you mean she has started speaking?"

The doctor's face was grim in concentration.

"Unfortunately, she has not said a word but after today's incident, we are hopeful of a change. I also recommend you get a therapist for her or I could recommed one for you."

Silence suddenly reigned at that junction. I could hear their breaths pumping in and out. Finally, Madam Veronica broke the chilly silence.

"May I please speak to her privately?"

"Of course. I will be right outside if anything comes up," I heard him exit the room quietly. Knowing it was just I and Madam Veronica in the room, I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"You are awake," she rather exhaled than spoke. I nodded a yes in reply.

"How are you feeling today? Getting better?" she wanted to know. I nodded another yes.

She bobbed her head in approval. Leaning backwards, she rested her back on her chair and sighed in exhaustion. She seems very tired today, I thought. I constantly wondered why she was bothered about me. I was a nobody, owning nothing to my name. Even if I died or lived, the world would keep spinning. So why waa she taking care of me?

"Well, today I came to tell you that the doctors are planning on giving you a surrogate name, an alias, if you please, since you have refused to tell them your name," She paused, perhaps to gauge my reaction.

An alias? I must have cringed at the thought because she quickly continued:

"But if you don't want that, instead of saying your name, I brought a writing pad and a pen so you can write it down."

True to her words, Madam Veronica opened her expensive leather bag and brought out a spiral notepad and a ballpoint. The pen was exquisite with a golden tip and an equally golden logo across it. I handled the pen with care, examining the logo. There was a combination of letters on it, oh, a word but I could not read it. What a shame!

"Well, you can write on any page you like as long you write your name."

I knew my name, of course. Who doesn't know their name? The only problem was that I could not spell it. I knew that if I said my name, this kind woman would readily have it spelt but I didn't wish to speak to anyone, including her. I could spell parts of the name though, the parts my stepfather preferred to call me; I wasn't a complete, clueless idiot. I opened the notebook and wrote in a scrawl: So.

Her brows quirked at me, her unspoken question well heard.

"Your name is So....as in Sophia or.....um...I guess that's it. I can't think of anything else. Your name is Sophia. Surname?"

My blank look should have passed across the fact that I did not care to know my last name but until I had kept staring at her for three minutes, she finally realized that I was no longer writing anything. She sighed again before returning her stationeries to her large bag. She rose to her feet somewhat victoriously.

"This is an improvement, by the way. Thank you, Sophia, for your cooperation. I will take my leave now. Your meal is on its way. Goodbye," she ended, waving at me cheerily. I waved back at her but with less enthusiasm. The sound of the door closing was the last thing I heard before I went back to sleep.