A Cinderella Story (Part 1)

Chapter 5: The Invisible People (Elliana's perspective)

I hurried down the stairs. The footsteps were getting closer, relentless. I leaped down the stairs and turned left, ready to sprint though the halls, but spotted a closet in my peripheral vision. I dove in and smoothly closed the door, grateful for the greased hinges. I tried to quiet my heavy breathing and watched through the gap at the bottom of the door.

Bare feet quietly walked past the closet. Suddenly, the feet spun around and opened the door.

"Found you!" Mira cried.

I put my fingers to my lips. She nodded, understanding.

"Can we do another round?" She whispered.

I glanced at the huge picture window. Behind it was a scenic view of the calm ocean waves lapping over the sand. And above the beach was the beginning of a picturesque sunrise. It was deep blue and dotted with twinkling stars, with hints of peach and tangerine peeking out from behind the horizon. I wrenched my gaze from the window and shook my head. Mira pouted.

"Can I at least have another slice?" She whined.

She was referring to the chunk of strawberry shortcake I had snuck into my pocket during dessert. It was Mira's favourite food so far. But I had made sure to bring her more nutritious food as well. Mashed potatoes (slightly problematic and very messy), buttered corn, and cherry tomatoes were among her favourite vegetables/fruits—so far. I was hoping to soon introduce her to peaches, mango, and watermelon. Although some of these exotic and expensive fruits were new to me as well, I was astounded by Mira's reaction to the food, as if it were the most wonderful and enchanting thing in the world.

Once, I had asked her what she normally ate. The look of sadness on her face had been heartbreaking—a look that didn't belong on the face of an eight-year-old girl, or anyone else.

She had explained that, since she was born, her family had been poor, surviving on Lady Remington for food and a roof. However, the payment was drastically extreme: Every member of Mira's family had started working as servants, slaves even, as soon as they were able. But they had had no other choice. So, every day, they worked to maintain the house and keep Lady Remington satisfied, which usually took the entire day, and then had five minutes to eat carrot peel or whatever scraps came from the kitchen and anything and everything edible they could scrounge amongst the lush greenery surrounding the house, usually dandelions or mushy lemons. And nobody even knew or cared.

As soon as Mira had told me that, I had started bringing her and her family food. I made sure they had the necessities, like vegetables and grain, but sometimes brought them other treats. It wasn't like Lady Remington didn't have any to spare. But Lady Remington would surely have them fired and off by themselves if she discovered, so I did it in the cover of the night, veiled by the darkness and long shadows.

Mother would be proud.

The thought came out of nowhere, but it made my heart hurt. And my head. I had barely any memories about her. Just a sweet voice and a gentle touch, a beautiful laugh and the sweet scent of apple blossoms and vanilla.

And the feeling of being loved.

Yes, I knew Father loved me, but that sense that someone cared about me, more than anything else in the whole entire world, even themselves, left a longing void in me. Hope and intention were the duct tape that could patch up the deepest pit, but nothing had filled it.

Yet.

One day, I'd find Mother.

But first, I needed to focus on getting out of this prison. And take Mira and the other servants with me.

With that final thought lingering in my head, I sleepily carried Mira, who was contentedly nibbling a piece of strawberry cake, to the servant quarters.

And promptly collapsed.