Don't Tell; It's Our Secret

Chapter 8

Tommy
A few days ago

The early sun shining in through the shabby curtains roused me from the old bed. I didn't know what time it was, but as my eyes drifted toward the door. There was one thing that was certain...that door was locked.

My eyes roamed around the room and I felt my heart sink.

The house looked nice on the outside, but this room looked old as dirt.

The bed had a metal frame that seemed like it belonged in the 1800s, the mattress creaked every time I moved, and there looked to be a thin layer of dust on everything. A dresser sat in one corner, with a mirror attached to it. Both seemed in dire need of cleaning. I dragged my body from the old mattress. My feet hit cold wood and the floor creaked beneath me.

I stretched my body and looked down at myself. My clothes were all ruffled and I could feel my hair standing up.

In that moment there was a knock at the door and I couldn't help but jump back into the bed.

The door opened and the man called Alexander was standing there, staring inside.

"Come on," he beckoned me.

I looked down and realized I had slept in my shoes...gross.

"Now." Alexander's voice was sterner.

I didn't speak, only followed him out of the room.

He lead me down down down, back into the kitchen.

"Tommy!" I heard Frances's chipper voice as she rushed at me and wrapped her arms around me. Her hug was tight and she patted my face. "I'm so glad to see you.

I could only look at her.

Alexander shook his head at her and then he left.

"Come on here now," she pulled me to the table and sat me down. "Are you alright?" She put her hand over mine.

All I could do was shake my head yes. I didn't dare tell her about what happened yesterday. I couldn't bear the shame.

"Now where did they put you to sleep?" She asked, her voice filled with worry.

"Some small room upstairs...it was gross and old and covered in dust." I complained a little, but who could blame me? This place seemed fancy as fuck, and yet there I was in dingy room number 1.

"Oh, not that one! It's so creepy. Did you get any sleep?" She cooed.

"Yeah I slept...I was exhausted." I shrugged.

"Well at least you got a bit of rest...can't say much for those clothes you've been in since yesterday." She looked me up and down. "I suppose there's not much u can do about it now, come on and help me with breakfast." She stood up suddenly and beckoned me to follow her.

I did as I was told and helped her by cutting vegetables. I had no idea what she was making, but I was resigned to help her...after all, she had helped me.

I noticed not many people came down into the kitchen.  Apart from some of the workers, it seemed like it was just her and I and the occasional other random person.

"Does no one come down here?" I asked her abruptly as I passed her a ladle to mix with.

"Oh down here? No. Not really. I keep the kitchen well so no one else feels like they have to be bothered to come down here. That and most people don't like that it's under the normal ground floor. I mean the only window we've got is up there on the wall." She pointed up to a small window sitting idle. It had bars on the outside. "Then there are these grates which lead all through the house." She whirled her hand around. "Most people don't wanna stay down here and cook with the heat and such." She shrugged.

"Why do you do it then?" I asked her as she turned and pulled out a serving dish.

"Well I suppose I've always worked in this kitchen so I don't really see a problem with it." She shrugged again as she ladled out what looked like soup into a large serving bowl.

"Now Tommy," she began, "some of the men are gonna come down here and get these trays I'm preparing. Just pass them whatever I've done as they come, alright?" She smiled.

I could only shake my head as she turned and began to pull out more trays.

A big man appeared then and held his hands out. I stared at him for a moment before I realized he was there for a tray.

I shakily picked up the serving dish of soup and heaved it at him. He, without question, took the dish and went up the stairs again.

Shortly thereafter, man after man came up and down the stairs, all wanting trays or bringing back trays of food that Frances created.

As I watched Frances, I realized that she couldn't have been older than 30. She seemed vigorous in her movement, but young enough to understand how things went around here without being a problem.

Her black hair was tied tightly at the base of her skull, and her dark eyes, even when cooking, seemed soft and loving.

I would've craved for a mother like her when I was growing up as opposed to my own mother....too busy to care.

"Tommy?" Frances called my attention back to the reality of my situation. "Don't just stand there, come here with me." She patted a seat next to her.

I walked over and sat beside her, and it was then that I caught a whiff of myself. My nose turned up at the smell of perspiration, a bit of blood, and just sogginess.

"Don't worry about that," she noticed my face after catching a whiff of my smell, "eat this." She placed a bowl of soup in front of me.

I stared at it for a moment but dared not question what it was. I gulped down the soup in minutes, my body crying out for nourishment.

Just as Frances took the bowl away, Alexander appeared from the stairs. She and he stared at each other for a minute before she sighed and turned to me.

"Tommy, he wants to see you again." She seemed disheartened.

I felt my own heart rattle in my chest as I slowly walked up to Alexander. He grabbed me and threw me on his back before I could protest, and he jogged up the stairs.