Chapter 1- Why Aren't You Done Yet?
AVA~~
Sweat trickled down my forehead, stinging my eyes as I scrubbed yet another dirty plate.
My arms ached, my fingers were pruned and sore, but I kept going. The mountain of dishes in front of me looked never-ending.
"This isn't fair," I whispered under my breath, but who was I even talking to? There was no one to listen. No one to care. Complaining would get me nowhere—except maybe a slap or another cruel punishment.
I sighed and took a deep breath as I picked up the next plate.
I didn't even know I was going to be working today. My uncle didn't say a word last night. He just barged into my room this morning, yanked the thin blanket off my body, and told me to get dressed. "You're going to the Beta's sixtieth birthday party," he said like it was some kind of gift.
A birthday party. Right.
Not as a guest, of course. Not even as a server. I was just the help. The cleaner. The one who hides in the back, scrubbing dishes while everyone else laughs, eats, and enjoys the music.
I didn't argue. I never do. Why would I?
Arguing only makes things worse. And trust me, my life is already bad enough. But if I ever dared to talk back, he would make it so much worse—worse than this hell I already live in. So I kept my mouth shut like I always do.
I wasn't even halfway done with the plates and cups when another huge stack landed in front of me with a loud clatter. I flinched at the sound.
"Take this, Ava. You need to wash these too," said a woman in her late fifties. Her voice was sharp, like she was always annoyed, even when she wasn't.
She didn't even wait for me to answer. She just waved over two younger women, who dumped another load of greasy, food-covered dishes into the sink beside me.
"Be quick with whatever you're doing," the older woman snapped, hands on her hips like she owned the world. "Why are you moving so slow, like a tortoise? You haven't even started the real work yet. Get that lazy bottom of yours moving!"
I nodded. I was too tired to speak.
She looked at me like I wasn't even human—just a tool to be used and tossed aside. And honestly, maybe that's all I've ever been to these people.
"Good," she said with a huff before turning around to leave. I didn't reply. I just stared at the soapy water in the sink, thinking about how many more plates I had to clean, how much time I had left before I could get home.
Not that home was any better.
I wasn't even worried about the number of dishes. I was used to this kind of work. What scared me more was not finishing in time. Because if I got home late—if I didn't get there before my uncle and his wife—there'd be hell to pay. Again.
That was the only thing on my mind.
The woman had almost reached the door when she suddenly stopped and turned back around.
"Oh, and be fast with the plate washing," she added, her voice cold. "You need to be done in the next twenty minutes. After that, you'll be serving the guests."
I froze.
My hands stopped moving. The plate slipped slightly from my grip and clinked against the side of the sink.
"What?"
"I'm sorry… are you talking to me?" she snapped, her voice like ice.
Her eyes cut through me, sharp and full of hate.
I swallowed hard and looked down, trying to stay calm. My hands were still soaked.
"No, ma'am," I said softly, keeping my voice respectful. "It's just… I don't think I can finish washing all these plates in twenty minutes. There's a lot—maybe five hundred or more. It'll take at least an hour."
I tried to explain as politely as I could. I wasn't trying to cause trouble. I just… needed her to understand. I wasn't a machine.
She stared at me like I'd just cursed at her.
"And am I supposed to care?" she asked, voice full of venom.
I quickly shook my head.
"No, ma'am. I know you don't have to care. I was just… trying to explain. If it's possible, maybe someone else could help with serving the guests while I finish the dishes. That way nothing gets delayed," I said, carefully choosing my words. "Please."
But I could already see it in her eyes—she wasn't interested in anything I had to say.
She took a step closer, arms crossed tightly.
"I don't care, Avalina… or whatever your name is." She spat my name like it was poison.
"Maybe you should've told your greedy uncle not to overcharge us if you can't do the work he promised. Maybe you should've told him that you're too slow. That you can't keep up. But now, you're here. So do the damn job."
I bowed my head quickly.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll do my best to finish everything in twenty minutes and still serve the guests." My voice shook as I said it.
"You better not try your best," she sneered, walking to the door. "You better finish it."
Then she slammed the door so hard I jumped back, almost dropping a plate. The sound echoed through the kitchen, making my chest tighten with panic.
I stood there for a second, frozen.
Then I got back to work.
I scrubbed harder, faster. The water stung my cracked fingers. My shoulders were burning. I could feel my whole body begging for rest, but I ignored it. Resting wasn't an option. If I stopped—even for a second—and someone walked in?
I didn't even want to imagine what would happen.
I'd be reported straight to my uncle. And that… would be the beginning of another nightmare. My life was already miserable. I couldn't afford to make it worse.
I swear I've washed over two hundred dishes. My back was aching. My hands felt like they didn't even belong to me anymore. I was dizzy, my eyes struggling to focus. I wanted to rest so badly. Just a second. Just lean on something, anything…
I looked around for a clock—something to tell me how many minutes I had left. But there was nothing. Just walls.
I didn't even get to finish that thought when the door suddenly burst open.
My heart skipped a beat.
And there she was, my worst nightmare.
"Why aren't you done yet?" she barked, eyes blazing.
I quickly dropped the plate I was rinsing and turned to her, panic rising in my throat.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I really tried my best, I swear. But the dishes… they were too many. I couldn't finish—"
Before I could even finish speaking, I saw something fly straight toward me.