Abandon all hope
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stepped into the hall.
Refectory, the grimy black letters above the door announced. My stomach twisted and growled. The last thing I had eaten was a watery broth at home before sneaking out through my bedroom window.
The air was thick, smelling of boiled cabbage, damp stone, and something sour that curdled in the back of my throat. I stepped into a vast, cavernous hall, its walls streaked with soot and damp as if the very bones of the building were rotting from within.
Rows of long wooden tables stretched from end to end, scarred and warped by years of careless use, their surfaces etched with deep gouges and scratches—marks of restless hands, of cutlery scraping against splintering wood, of unseen frustrations carved into the grain.
High, narrow windows let in only the palest excuse for daylight, their glass stained with grime, turning the outside world into a sickly haze of gray. A single gas lantern hung overhead, casting shadows that made the hunched figures seated at the tables look like wraiths.
The patients—silent, hollow-eyed men and women wrapped in colorless nightgowns—ate in slow, mechanical movements, their gazes empty, their hands lifting spoons with weary obedience. The room did not hum with conversation. Only silence, punctuated by the dull scrape of metal against wood.
A thin, greasy broth sloshed in wooden bowls before them, accompanied by crusts of blackened bread that looked hard enough to chip a tooth. The nurses, standing in stiff-backed vigilance along the walls, clutched canes with casual authority. I recognized one of them—she had helped Becky after I stabbed her. Her gaze flickered over me, her lips curling slightly as if already imagining how she’d break me.
A bowl was shoved into my hands, the heat barely seeping through my freezing fingers. My stomach clenched in protest—not with hunger, but with dread.
This wasn’t a dining hall.
This was a feeding trough.
Would I end up like them? Bent over a bowl, a vacant shell, my spirit crushed beneath endless days of cold baths, beatings, and torment? How long until they destroyed me?
A brittle sound cracked through the quiet. I turned my head in time to see a frail old woman drop her spoon onto the stone floor. It clattered, far too loud in the oppressive silence.
A nurse stepped forward, boots clicking.
When the screaming started, the room did not stir. Did not breathe.
I lifted my bowl and forced the lukewarm, oily broth past my lips.
To keep my name, to remain Daphne, I needed all my strength. And if it meant eating this slop, I’d do it.
A tall, middle-aged woman strolled in, talking to Alice. They giggled. It surprised me that the nurse was capable of such warmth.
“Be careful with that dark-eyed boy, Alice!” the tall woman said, slipping something into the pocket of her surprisingly clean dress.
“You bet I will,” Alice said, handing her a bowl.
The thick scent reached me. Whatever she was eating, it was not the watery broth that stood before me.
The dark eyes of the woman wandered the hall and landed on me, flashing briefly with curiosity. I quickly looked down at the murky water in the wooden bowl, pretending to be interested in the oily spots floating on the surface.
“Was it your brother?” she asked, and I froze. “The one who locked you up here?”
I looked up at her. Dark hair with silver strands, cut short but not unkempt. Warm bronze skin, intelligent eyes framed by long dark lashes. She was a patient but didn’t look like the wandering corpses in this purgatory.
I fished out a piece of carrot with the bent spoon.
“Old bruises on your arms, delicate hands that never worked a day, the way you hold that spoon like a duchess. You’re not like the rest of us.”
I immediately slouched.
“The nurses hate you, as you’re putting up a fight. You’re not like those broken people around. So, was it your brother? Your husband? A powerful man you crossed?”
I pretended to be busy with my dinner.
“It was my husband who locked me up here. I married above my... station. A lord marrying a gypsy—can you imagine the scandal?” She cackled, and for a moment, she did sound mad.
