Bab 3: Chapter 2: Cruel
Mila's heart pounded as Jessy's cruel grip tightened on her shoulder, guiding her through the dimly lit corridors of the estate.
The air inside was thick with a musty scent, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls, creating a surreal atmosphere.
The door to the assigned room swung open with a creak, revealing a space that sent chills down Mila's spine.
The room was small, with worn-out wallpaper peeling at the edges. A lone, dusty window barely allowed a feeble light to penetrate the darkness within.
The bed, adorned with faded sheets, dominated the center of the room. Its rusty metal frame creaked under the weight of an uncertain history, and the cobwebs in the corners hinted at neglect.
The air felt stagnant, and the silence was broken only by the occasional scuttle of unseen creatures.
Jessy's grip on Mila's shoulder tightened, pushing her further into the room. The door slammed shut behind them, and Mila felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
The room seemed to envelop her in its oppressive embrace, and the web-like shadows danced on the walls, amplifying the sense of entrapment.
"Make yourself comfortable," Jessy sneered, releasing her shoulder with a forceful shove that sent her stumbling toward the bed.
The room offered no solace, and the bed, though a seemingly innocent piece of furniture, bore witness to the countless stories of despair that echoed within those walls.
As Mila steadied herself, her eyes scanned the room for any sign of escape. The window, though narrow, seemed like a potential route to freedom.
Yet, the bars on the outside denied her that slim chance.
The realization sank in—this room was her temporary prison, a place where the echoes of her suffering would reverberate through the solitary confinement.
Mila hesitated, contemplating whether to rest or continue her struggle for freedom.
In the silence of the webby room, her thoughts echoed, mirroring the entangled threads that seemed to bind her fate to this ominous estate.
Mila couldn't hold back the overwhelming surge of emotions that welled up within her as she stood in the dimly lit room.
The weight of her predicament pressed down on her, and the walls seemed to close in.
A wave of despair washed over her, and she felt the sting of tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
In an attempt to distract herself from the harsh reality, Mila began to explore the room.
Her trembling hands ran across the dusty surfaces, leaving trails in the layers of neglect that covered the furniture.
As she moved closer to the vanity mirror tucked away in a corner, a glimmer of curiosity sparked within her.
The mirror, though covered in a film of dust, held the promise of revealing some semblance of familiarity.
Mila's delicate fingers brushed across the glass, leaving clear streaks in their wake.
With each pass, she exposed more of the mirror's surface, revealing a piece of her reflection distorted by the accumulated grime.
Compelled by a desperate need to confront herself, Mila fervently wiped away the layers of neglect.
As the dust dispersed, the mirror began to unveil her visage—one that felt foreign and unfamiliar.
A gasp caught in her throat as she caught a glimpse of her own reflection, her wide, green eyes staring back at her.
The shock deepened as she continued to wipe the mirror clean. The silver strands of hair framing her face were not the ones she remembered.
The features that stared back at her were a stark departure from the Mila she knew—her own image replaced by a stranger with an otherworldly aura.
A shiver ran down her spine as she examined the face before her.
The reflection held an unsettling beauty, but it was a beauty that belonged to someone else.
Panic set in, and Mila couldn't reconcile the image in the mirror with her own memories.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she could no longer suppress the sobs that racked her body.
The room echoed with the haunting sound of her cries, each wailing a lament for the person she used to be.
The realization struck her with an agonizing force—she had not only lost her freedom but also her very identity.
Mila's cries echoed through the desolate room, a mournful symphony of anguish that seemed to reverberate against the walls.
The weight of her despair bore down on her, and tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked.
Exhausted both physically and emotionally, she sank to the dusty floor, the cold surface offering little comfort.
As Mila's sobs continued, the room blurred into a haze of shadows and muted colors.
The remnants of her strength waned, and the last coherent thought before succumbing to the depths of exhaustion was a desperate yearning for escape from the nightmare that had become her reality.
Unbeknownst to her, the dust-laden floor became an unforgiving bed, and the darkness of the room enveloped her in its cold embrace.
Sleep, a temporary reprieve from the torment, claimed her like a silent thief in the night.
When Mila awoke, disoriented and groggy, the room was shrouded in shadows.
The feeble light that had filtered through the narrow window had long since surrendered to the encroaching darkness.
Confusion clouded her mind as she slowly pushed herself up from the floor, her limbs protesting with every movement.
The air in the room felt heavier now, and the oppressive silence bore witness to the solitude that enveloped her.
Mila's puffy eyes, puffy from tears and exhaustion, adjusted to the dimness.
As her surroundings came into focus, the reality of her situation crashed over her like a relentless tide.
She glanced towards the dusty vanity mirror, which now reflected a worn-out version of herself.
The remnants of her earlier breakdown were etched on her face—pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, and disheveled silver hair.
The image in the mirror was a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, which she couldn't escape.
With a heavy sigh, Mila pushed herself off the floor and surveyed the room.
The bed, still a silent witness to her distress, seemed untouched by the passage of time.
The window revealed only an impenetrable darkness outside, leaving her with no sense of how much time had passed.
The realization of her current state, alone and trapped in this enigmatic estate, tightened its grip on her heart.
The faint creaking of the door announced the arrival of a servant, bearing a tray laden with a meager offering of sustenance.
Mila's eyes, still weary from the tears shed in the night, flickered with a glimmer of hope at the prospect of nourishment.
However, as the door swung open, that hope dwindled into apprehension.
The servant, a figure shrouded in shadows, entered the room with an air of indifference.
Without uttering a single word, they approached Mila and callously tossed the tray onto the dusty floor.
The clatter of metal against wood echoed through the room, and the meager meal scattered in a chaotic dance of crumbs and spilled liquids.
Mila's gaze fell upon the pitiful remnants of her meal—cold, unappetizing, and now tainted by the filth of the floor.
The servant's cruel act seemed intentional—a calculated gesture to underscore her perceived insignificance.
The smell of the stale food wafted through the air, mixing with the musty odor of the room.
With a disdainful glance, the servant fixed their eyes on Mila, their expression unreadable.
It was a silent act of degradation, a reminder that her existence held no value in the eyes of those who held power within the estate.
Mila, left to confront the spilled remnants of her meager sustenance, felt a surge of frustration and humiliation.
As the servant turned to leave, scornful laughter escaped their lips, lingering in the air like a bitter aftertaste.
The door slammed shut, sealing Mila once again in the solitude of her confined space.
The room, now bearing the scars of this cruel intrusion, seemed to close in on her, amplifying the isolation and despair that clung to her like a suffocating shroud.
Left alone with the mess on the floor, Mila sighed, resigned to the harsh reality of her circumstances.
Mila's emotions churned within her like a turbulent storm, each wave of feeling crashing against the walls of her resolve.
The callous act of the servant had sparked a tumultuous mix of frustration, humiliation, and a profound sense of isolation.
Frustration gnawed at her, fueled by her powerlessness to resist the cruelty imposed upon her.
Anguish simmered beneath the surface, an unspoken plea for a reprieve from the relentless trials that seemed to assail her at every turn.
Humiliation, like a bitter aftertaste, lingered in the air.
The careless toss of the tray and the disdainful laughter of the servant echoed in her mind, amplifying the sense of degradation that clung to her like a shadow.
Isolation wrapped around her like an invisible cloak, tightening with each passing moment.
The room, once a symbol of her confinement, now felt like a pit of despair.
The echoes of laughter, the cruel act of the servant, and the spilled remnants of her meal intensified the solitude that enveloped her.
In the silence, her thoughts became a haunting symphony of yearning for connection, a desperate desire to break free from the chains of her isolation.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, a spark of resilience flickered within Mila.
Determination welled up, a quiet whisper of defiance against the oppressive forces that sought to break her spirit.
She refused to let the cruelty define her.
With a heavy sigh, she began to clean the spilled food, her actions a small act of reclaiming control in the face of overwhelming adversity.
As she knelt on the dusty floor, a silent vow formed in her heart—a promise to endure, to resist, and to find a glimmer of humanity within herself even in the darkest corners of this mysterious estate.
Hadiah
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