I got up from the floor. My body felt heavy, and my limbs ached. I stumbled into the bathroom. The light of the vanity mirror was harsh.
I splashed cold water on my face. The sting was a welcome shock. Then I looked up.
My eyes widened. There, on my cheek, was a faint red mark, a small bruise blooming just below my cheekbone.
It was a stark visual reminder of Victoria’s hatred. I clenched my hands on the sink. The porcelain felt cold against my skin. I had to get out. I had to leave this place.
The thought consumed me. It wasn't a flicker of an idea; it was a fire, burning away the last remnants of my hesitation.
The silence of the mansion, once a comfort, now felt oppressive, like a tomb.
Every hallway seemed to echo with Victoria's contempt, every expensive piece of furniture a
