Sweet Lord, what kind of purgatory had Arthur locked me up in? The endless dark corridors echoed with screams and the howling of the icy wind. We passed by a young woman cradling a headless rag doll, staring out of a window, her forehead pressed against the metal grid.
They led me along dark corridors lined with endless rows of closed metal doors. The stench made me gag. It was the reek of misery and neglect. Nobody reacted when wepassed by; nobody looked at me. They were all caught in their own little worlds.
The smell of disinfectant made me cough when we stopped before a rusty door.
“It’s the new one’s turn now,” Alice declared, confirming my guess that she was in charge. “Becky, bathe the lady. We’ll be here if you need help!” That laughter again made my stomach lurch. What were they up to?
“I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself, thank—” the air left my lungs, and someone roughly shoved me into the room.
“What—” Another sentence I couldn’t finish as Becky, a young woman with a flat face and low brow, grabbed me by the hair. Laughter echoed behind us as she dragged me deeper into the dark room.
My bare feet slipped over wet, chipped floor tiles. Water dripped somewhere in the dark depths ahead. The sense of dread was enough to awaken me from the stupor; my reflexes sprang back to life, and I clawed at the nurse, ripping her bonnet off.
I’d taught myself to remain quiet and motionless when Arthur was hitting me; it was over faster that way. And he was controlling himself; I was his prized possession that could secure him income when the trust fund of my parents ran dry.
But this monster with that thin smile dragging me across the floor—was not stronger than me. She cursed as I sank an elbow into her ribs. Pain exploded up my arm. Damned corsets. Before I could swing again, she slammed my head against a stained marble sink. Warm blood filled my mouth.
Laughter and applause exploded as Becky held me down, my face pressed against the cold, wet surface. A loud snip made me freeze.
“Well done, Becky! Now—into the shower,” Alice shouted.
The nurse released me, and I raised my fingers to my head to confirm what I feared.
A sob shook my body.
“What do we do with it?” Becky held my long braid in her hand. She was dangling it like a trophy, grinning like a butcher.
“It’s not lice-infested like our other guests, yet brown is really not my color,” she mocked, raising my hair and draping it over her blonde strands.
“I know a wig maker that would pay some good penny for this,” Alice said.
Sobs still rippled through me. My beautiful hair. I hadn’t cut it since my parents’ death, and it had grown so long I could sit on it. Mother’s gentle touch still lingered there. She loved brushing it every evening and telling me a story. Now, it was gone. Taken away from me by these monsters whose only purpose was to turn me into something…not human anymore.
White-hot, blinding rage rose inside me. It made its way up through the ruins of my dignity, through layers of painful memories.
For years, I was suffering my brother’s abuse. But I didn’t have to do it anymore. He buried me alive here.
I was as good as dead.
Becky was still holding my braid in her left hand and the rusty scissors in her right; her back was turned to me asshe asked Alice about the wig maker and whether he’d agree to buy such a mousy brown color.
Something inside me snapped. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. The scissors were in my hand before I even realized it.
Some wild, primal triumph washed over me as I sank the scissors into her shoulder. The sickening crunch, the way Becky screamed—it was like shattering glass. Then came the blood, warm and wet, spilling over my trembling fingers.
I froze. The scissors slipped from my hand and clattered onto the tiles. For a heartbeat, I stood there—paralyzed—watching the red bloom across her apron.
The nurses rushed to restrain me. Becky sank to the floor, screaming, her eyes wide, blood trickling between her fingers.
Sweet Jesus, what had I done? How old was this girl? Eighteen? Nineteen?
My knees gave in just when the other nurses swarmed me, and the beating began.
Then, the world faded.
Daphne
Cold as the grave
