I felt warm light rays descend from an open window and rest on my face. I'd been fully conscious of what had been going on around me for more than twenty minutes without opening my eyes or turning around in my position such that at first glance, the opinion was that I was fast asleep.
But with the light burning at my face, I knew my cover was about to be blown. I frowned when I heard another maid walk through the door, shuffling their feet and humming unfamiliar tunes. Well, if I wanted to stop the torture, I needed that window slammed shut.
Whoever opens the top window in the morning? I humphed under my breath as I did a characteristic turn and my eyes flickered open. Her back was turned to me as she leaned forward, mopping the floor and I could see a pink underwear peeking out of the two tiny holes in her trouser. My heart went out to her and I made a mental note to take shopping one of the days because her shirt didn't look new either.
“Hello.” I croaked, wondering where my voice had gone. She stopped her rhythmic humming and mopping and turned to me, a bright smile perched on her face. How do people smile in their difficulty? “Uhm…” my voice faltered as my eyes darted around her searching for a badge and was surprised there was none. Growing up, every house we visited had their maids were badges and my stepmother soon adopted it. Those grey, flowery stuff with their names on it always came in handy because of how frequently my stepmother replaced any maid that set her off which happens several times a day.
“What are you searching for ma'am.” A firm feminine voice pushed me out of my thoughts. I sighed, couldn't I stay a few minutes without referencing my family? They didn't even care if it was dead or alive. Ooops! There I go again.
“Ma'am?” This time, her voice wasn't anything endearing. It held a warning. “You called me but you've not said anything to me.”
I smiled, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Please, the window. I need it to be shut. I don't like light in my eyes in the morning.” I finally found my tongue. Her face was drawn as she shuffled to the window and drew the curtains shut. Damien really gave them lots of free time, how could she be mad about a little delay?
I remember the times that Audrey and I would keep a maid standing for hours whilst we gisted, completely forgetting she'd been standing there and she'll not make a sound or move to indicate her presence until something like a phone call or text message or a casualty like knocking off the vase due to heavy laughter will send us back to the surroundings around us and we'll notice our mistake. I'd usually dismiss them immediately for the day but Audrey most times “punished” them for listening to our conversation with more chores. She'd always win, like I said earlier, the house is Audrey's and everyone else is a bloody visitor.
“You should be a little polite.” I stated to her ass which was shoved in my face as she worked. She paused for a second then acted like I was a disturbing fly and continued with her cleaning. Something went off in my brain. How could she treat me like that? I'd just thought of taking her shopping! What the hell was wrong with her? As these thoughts ran through my head, I stuck out my hand and tapped her ass. “Don't act dumb. I was talking to you!” I snapped but she kept on with what she was doing.
“If you can't be polite to people which is a part of your job description, you don't deserve to clean up such a mansion.”
“And if you could lie to a whole city about your boyfriend cheating, you shouldn't be under some other man's duvet a few days after that lie.” I was waiting for a comeback but not something this bizarre. I thought marrying Damien would give me cover but here it was about to bring a media onslaught.
I gulped as my nerves took over, my brain ran around in search of a suitable response to such an accusation but none was forthcoming. Just as I was about to give up, Damien walked in. The tension between us made him stall around the door for a bit before popping his mouth open.
“Hello, sleepyhead.” I wanted to lurch at him. That was the lamest way to send this accuser away with her tail between her legs. “You're one heavy sleeper. For hours, I typed noisily on that typewriter but you didn't budge. I sent several maids to make some noise but you were lost in your dreams.” He chuckled as he strolled to the bed, throwing up and badminton ball and catching it. His swag wasn't lost in it.
“The window. It did the trick. Happy now?” I exhaled, wondering at how fast I kept clenching and unclenching my fist which resulted in suspended breaths. I stood up and headed for the bathroom, two pairs of eyes trailing after me.
“Christabel,” he started, “that woman you just talked rudely to us Sophia Crawford and did you see how she brought down two media sensations in a few minutes? She's ever ready to do it again and I know you'll be such a small feat.” He sniffled, something he did was a bomb building up in his throat. “I'll advise you to be wary and accord her every bit of respect she deserves as my wife and a woman who plays around with the media. I know you want to argue, to tell the Police, to sell this story. You can go ahead…” He trailed off, making a coughing sound with his throat.
“But I'll drop a word of advice to you. Your little crush on Mr David Nelson will not save you from becoming a media sensation for infamous reasons. Just look at youuu, you're quite the damsel and those lovely dimples over there! Oh, how your pictures will be displayed all over the Streets of Rubenn and people reading about your hair loss at 6, dog bite at 8, sexual abuse and child prostitution from ages 9-14, your mother's death…”
“Just stop! Stop!” She whimpered and I could guess she was shaking uncontrollably. “Stop reading out my life like that, you bastard. I get it, my lips are clipped. S-she should be wary tho, other maids don't think highly of her either.” She sniffled then I heard the familiar shuffling of feet and nothing.
“Great job there, husband.” I deadpanned as I walked out of the toilet, shuffling my feet in a mimicking attempt.
“What can I say? I have to protect my wife…y” He chuckled as if the words were hard to say. I thrust my clenched fist into his left shoulder and immediately balked in pain.
“Shit! Fuck! Ouch! Ouch!” The words came out individually as I hopped to the bed. The mischievous smirk wiped away from his face as he followed my painful movement with wide eyes.
“Are you okay?” He asked in concern, crouching in front of me. I managed a painful laugh.
“Yes, sure! I'm bubbling with strength and no single pain!” I cried as a few droplets of blood began to drop from my knuckles. My eyes began tearing, gosh! How fragile could I be?
“Stay still.” He commanded and walked into another room.