{Elira}
~**^**~
"Wake up, filthy rat!"
The ice water hit my skin like glass.
I gasped, eyes snapping open just as another splash soaked the thin blanket around me. My bones felt frozen through, and the shivering started before my brain could catch up.
I didn't have time to breathe when a hand gripped a fist full of my hair and yanked hard.
"How dare you make me come here to wake you?" The housemaid's breath reeked of bitterness as she dropped the stainless bucket onto my lap with a clang. "Miss Regina wants you, lazy slug."
This was my life.
Even in my uncle's house, I was treated worse than a slave; like refuse.
What was I now, anyway?
A forgotten orphan. A lowly omega from a highly regarded Beta line. Regina's maid and plaything when my uncle wasn't looking.
I wiped my face with trembling fingers. My mattress was soaked through. So was I.
"Useless thing," the housemaid hissed as she let go of my hair, but not without nudging my face to the side before walking out, leaving the bucket behind.
I got up, teeth chattering, picked a towel and dried off before pulling on a worn-out brown cotton dress.
I passed the cracked mirror on my wall as I was about to leave my room and caught a glimpse of myself.
Hollow eyes, drawn in cheeks. And my red hair was hacked and sticking up, like I had fought a raccoon in my sleep and lost.
I touched the patch where gum still clung stubbornly to my scalp, and pain bit through my fingers as I tore more of it away.
"My mother used to brush my hair with slow, loving strokes and whisper, 'You're made of stars, little one.' Now I couldn't even touch my scalp without pain."
Last night had been another lesson.
I had been five minutes late to Regina's call. I had been scrubbing her bloodied underthings from the hunt. She didn't care. Instead, she pressed a wad of gum into my scalp when I bowed to apologize.
"Since you like taking your sweet time," she had whispered, "let's see how long this takes to come out."
It didn't. A kind servant helped me cut most of it, but what remained made it worse.
By the time I reached Regina's chambers, she was already lounging in her marble tub, naked, half-submerged in rose-scented steam, like she was already the Luna.
"Finally," she drawled, wrinkling her nose. "You look and smell like trash. Do you ever bathe?"
I bowed lower. "The call sounded urgent."
"Of course, it is. You should've been awake since four."
"I—"
"Even your voice alone annoys me. Shut up and shave me."
My head lifted on instinct. "What?"
"As bald as a baby," she said, spreading her legs in the tub. "And don't make me repeat myself again."
Regina glared sharply at me. Her impatience was already approaching its peak, and it was only a matter of time before it exploded.
My hands trembled as I took the razor from the edge of the bath. I knelt beside her, and Regina lifted her right leg, placing it on top of my head. She twisted her heel a bit till she found a perfect spot.
Fury filled my chest as I tried to focus and get through with this.
My hand twitched, but that hesitation was all the permission she needed.
Her foot struck my chest, knocking me. I flew backwards, skull slamming against the tile as white light flared behind my eyes. I tasted copper.
"Keep your damn hand steady, you bastard!" she hissed. "Are you planning to slice me open before my engagement to the Alpha's heir?"
I blinked through the blur. The pain felt like I had suffered a mild concussion.
I pushed up on shaking arms and crawled forward again. "I'm sorry," I murmured, "please… forgive me."
"Idiot."
The razor trembled in my hand as I leaned in again, resuming shaving while fighting my tears back.
This wasn't new. Humiliation was routine. But this? This was a fresh kind of degradation. I used to be someone. A daughter. A princess in my father's eyes. Beta Martin Shaw's only child.
Now? I shaved the pubic hair of the girl who used to braid flowers into mine.
---
I couldn't eat breakfast after all that. The bread was stale. The porridge smelled sour. Food they wouldn't eat themselves, but saved for me when it was nearly rotten.
I could've managed it, had done so plenty of times, if Regina's scent hadn't still clung to my hands. It made my stomach churn.
This wasn't the first time Regina had humiliated me, but this was new. This had crossed a line even I hadn't known existed. What would she want next? That I wiped her insides clean?
Just the thought twisted my stomach, and I dumped the bowl into the compost bin outside the kitchen, knowing I would go hungry until nightfall when Uncle Marc returned.
The porridge sloshed down onto yesterday's scraps—soured, cold and unrecognizable. I turned away quickly, trying not to gag, when suddenly a cold, bitter voice rang out, freezing me on the spot.
"What did you just do?"
My heart skipped a beat as my breath caught in my throat. I turned slowly only to see Lady Maren standing a few steps away with her arms crossed and a servant girl behind her like a shadow.
Her eyes were brutal, cold. "How dare you waste food in my house you deranged little witch!"
"I— I…" I opened my mouth, but no words came. Just air.
"That food was still edible, and you threw it away like you've earned better? Who do you think you are?"
My heart pounded heavily and I felt my eardrums would burst. There was no right answer. Nothing I could say that could save me now.
Lady Maren stepped forward and shoved me hard until I fell beside the bin, knees scraping the muddy stones.
"Pick it up." I glanced at her. "Now, wench!"
I scrambled to do as she said, scooping the mushy bread and cold porridge into my trembling hands as bits of dirt and leaves stuck to it.
A few thoughts on what she would do crossed my mind—beat me with it, tell my uncle I wasted food—but not the one she suggested.
"Eat it."
I felt like I had just been handed a poison.
She stared down at me, arms folded, waiting. "Eat it, or I will have the cook boil it into your bathwater!"
I blinked, quickly snapping out of my thoughts and swallowed. "I—Lady Maren, please—"
She didn't let me finish.
She stepped closer and her hand reached out to fist my hair. Then she yanked my head down with brutal force, a yelp escaping my lips as she shoved my face into the slop in my hands.
The mush hit my mouth and crumbs stuck to my chin.
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain on my head due to her tight grip on my hair, mixing with dirt and crumbs.
And I made a mistake by letting the bread and porridge fall on the bare ground.
"Don't test my patience! Eat every last bit!"
I didn't fight her. I couldn't. Helplessly, I dropped my knees to the ground and began to eat.
The food was bitter, sour and mouldy, plus the wrinkling smell of Regina's private part on my fingers made it worse. That, coupled with the grains of sand on the food, made my stomach turn instantly.
I licked my lips, swallowing tears along with bitterness.
Lady Maren snorted. "Nonsense," she spat and let go of my hair like I was nothing. Then she turned and walked off, her heels cracking loudly as she vanished down the corridor.
The servant remained.
Still, I didn't stop eating until I was sure Lady Maren was out of sight. My hands trembled. My jaw clenched to keep down what little I had swallowed.
Only then did I lift my head. My body shook so hard I couldn't sit up properly.
I choked on a sob and vomited. Everything I had just swallowed came right back up.
"You dirty pig," the servant hissed, stepping back with disgust.
I tried to stop the heaving, but it came again—violent, loud, humiliating—until there was nothing left but dry air and a bitter aftertaste on my tongue.
The world blurred through my tears.
I barely heard the servant say, "Clean that up. And take it to the trash where you belong."
She turned, already leaving only to stop halfway and voice over her shoulder the words that stung the most, "You are just like your vomit, rotten to the core."