>Mallory
"I said let go."
My voice came out cold, edged with suppressed fury as I glared at her, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw ached.
Eleina's perfectly manicured nails dug deeper into my scalp as she yanked my head back, the sudden force blurring my vision. The sharp, floral sweetness of her perfume filled my nose, turning into this dizzying smell that triggers my migraine.
"Or what, huh?" she sneered, her voice dripping with disgust enough to make anyone feel like absolute crap.
"How dare you give me that attitude? You think you can just look at me like that, you little mistress-spawn?"
Before I could reply, her free hand lashed out—
crack!
The slap echoed through the quiet garden. The force sent me stumbling back my feet on the stone pavement, my cheek bloomed rose, and my ears ringing with the impact.
"Don't you ever glare at me again. Got it?" she spat, her eyes blazing in anger. "You're nothing but a stain on this family."
Before I could recover, she grabbed a fistful of my hair again, her grip digging through my scalp, and dragged me through the hedge-lined maze. My bare feet scraped against the rough stone path, each step tearing my skin, each tug of my hair jerking my head back painfully. I stumbled and tried to pry her hand away, but her pace was too fast.
"Where are you taking me?" I gasped, struggling to loosen her hold.
Eleina just laughed—a sound I heard enough to sent a shiver through my spine. "You'll see."
She threw me forward. I hit the ground hard, the dirt scraping my knees. When I looked up, a woman stood there, her gaze icy and unyielding. Her brows furrowed, darkening with anger.
Mrs. Elisha Morrow
"Ma, look what the bitch's daughter did!" Eleina announced, like a spoiled child tattling to her mother as she yanked my hair again.
Rage welled inside me, it was burning hot it hurts. I never asked them to accept me. I already knew I wasn't welcome here. It was their idea to give me the Morrow name in the first place—because they were terrified of the scandal. But why did it always feel like my existence was my fault?
I lunged forward, slamming my shoulder into Eleina's chest. The impact knocked her off balance, her grip finally breaking. I twisted free, gasping.
"Get off me!" I screamed, shoving her backward.
Eleina staggered, eyes wide with disbelief. "You little bitch!"
Before she could react, I swung. My fist connected with her jaw—not perfectly, but enough to make her yelp and clutch her face in shock. Adrenaline surged through my veins, burning away the fear.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" I spat, my voice trembling but firm.
Then Mrs. Morrow stepped forward. Her face was mask with fury, her eyes sharp and cold. Her gaze struck me like a blade, my veins running cold.
"You dare hit my daughter?" she hissed, her voice low and almost venomous. My hand twist in a slight tremble, the trauma clinging to me like skin.
"She deserved it," I shot back in a shaky voice as I raised my chin in defiance. "Both of you did."
That was a mistake.
With a flick of her hand, she signaled the maids standing behind her. They lunged toward me at once. I tried to dodge, but they were too fast—their nails raked across my cheek, sharp pain exploding in my skin.
I stumbled back, clutching my face, blood seeping between my fingers.
"You ungrateful wretch!" Mrs. Morrow shrieked. "I should've gotten rid of you the moment you were born!"
"Why didn't you?!" I screamed back, my voice cracking. The words tore from somewhere deep inside me,both raw and desperate. I didn't even feel the blood trickling down my face anymore.
"How dare you talk back?" she shouted, her fury boiling over. She raised her hand again, but this time, I caught her wrist midair.
"I'm not letting you hurt me anymore," I blurted. My voice shook, but the resolve in it was real.
For a moment, she froze. Then hands seized me from behind—two maids pinning my arms, wrenching them painfully back. I kicked and struggled, but their grip was too strong, it was impossible.
"Hold her still," Mrs. Morrow ordered, her tone dripping with venom.
Eleina stepped forward, her jaw already swelling, a cruel smile twisted on her lips. "That's right, Mother! That bitch dare to hit me!"
Then her hand came down. Slap. Again. And again. My head whipped from side to side, vision swimming. Each strike blurred into the next.
Mrs. Morrow joined in, her blows landing heavy, deliberate—each one a punishment not just for me, but also for my mother, and for daring to exist in their world. The maids held me still, their faces blank, as though none of this was happening.
I screamed. I sobbed. I begged.
They didn't stop.
Their silence hurt almost as much as the blows.
"You embarrass me!" Mrs. Morrow spat, her voice trembling with rage. "You embarrass this family! Do you know what will happen if Mr. Barrow finds out about this?"
Mr. Barrow. The name alone made bile rise in my throat—the old, repulsive man they intended to marry me off to. The thought alone repulses me.
She looked me over, her face twisting in disgust. "Look at your dress. Are you trying to seduce your way out of this house? Pwe! You really are that bitch's daughter." she spat.
"Get her inside," Mrs. Morrow ordered, her voice cold and hard. "And lock her in the cellar. She'll stay there until she learns some respect."
Eleina and the maids dragged me through the house—past the judging portraits, past the silent, disapproving staff who pretended not to see. Their whispers followed us down the hall like ghosts.
We descended into the dark, musty storage room beneath the manor, the room more familiar than I wanted to.
The door slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing through the small, suffocating space. I was alone.
The air was cold and wet, heavy with the stench of mildew and dust. A single bare bulb flickered overhead, its light trembling across the stone walls like a dying heartbeat.
I sank to the floor, my body aching as I pulled my knees to my chest. The pain was a dull throb, but it was the humiliation that cut the deepest.
Warm blood trickled down the side of my face. My head pounded like it was splitting open. My hands curled into fists—but there was nothing left to fight.
I stared up at the flickering light, my eyes burning. The tears came, but they didn't feel real anymore. I'd been here too many times to still believe in sadness.
I closed my eyes.
I was numb. Utterly, completely numb.
This was my life. This was my reality. A constant cycle of abuse, of hatred, of being made to feel worthless.
I wanted to escape. I wanted to run away, to disappear, to be anyone but the unfortunate Mallory Morrow.
But where could I go? What could I do? I was trapped. Trapped in this house, trapped in this life, trapped in this body.
And as the darkness closed in around me, I knew one thing for sure: I had to get out. I had to find a way to escape this hell, even if it meant risking everything. I had to be strong. I had to survive.
____
I was in the bathroom, my hands trembling as I stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test.
A wave of emotions crashed through me—joy, terror, disbelief—all tangled into one unbearable knot in my chest. My hand flew to my mouth to muffle the sobs threatening to break free.
Tears blurred my vision as a single whisper escaped my lips.
"Thank you."