Silent Wounds(on hold)

chapter 3|The new reality

Nontsikelelo

Zanele quietly led me back to the room, a cramped space with two single beds pressed against opposite walls. I sank onto mine, the mattress lumpy and worn, feeling as though the very fabric of the bed was mocking my misery. Zanele sat next to me, her expression a mix of sympathy and determination.

"Hey... my name is Zanele. It's nice to meet you, Nontsikelelo," she said softly. "I'm really sorry that this happened to you. I'll try my best to assist where I can."

I managed a faint smile, but it felt like a mask, hiding the turmoil churning inside me. I was shattered, broken beyond repair. The reality of my family's absence pressed heavily on my chest. How could they leave me like this? How could they abandon me to this fate? I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, gasping for breath, yet the weight of grief held me down.

As my thoughts spiraled into anger and bitterness, tears spilled over, hot and relentless. I didn't even bother to wipe them away. Each drop felt like a piece of my old self slipping away, and as I leaned into Zanele's embrace, I wondered about her story. How had she ended up here? She looked so young, too young to be a maid, and I felt a flicker of connection in our shared plight.

But before I could voice my questions, the door swung open, and Mrs. Mdlalose stormed in, her demeanor commanding and harsh.

"Did I not say you must show her around, wena Zanele?" she barked, her voice echoing against the walls. "And you," she pointed a sharp finger at me, "there's no time for crying here. Move it! There's a lot of work to be done in this house!"

Her words sliced through the room like a whip, cold and unyielding. My stomach twisted in knots as I realized the kind of place I had been thrust into. This was no different from the hell Aunt Thandi had created. In fact, it felt worse. Here, I was completely alone, surrounded by strangers, and expected to serve without question.

Zanele stood up quickly, her eyes wide with concern as she gestured for me to follow her. "Come on, let's get started," she whispered urgently, trying to guide me away from the tension that filled the air.

As I wiped my face with the back of my hand, I forced myself to stand, though my legs felt heavy as lead. The reality of my situation crashed down around me. I wasn't just here to work; I was here to survive in a world that felt utterly foreign and hostile. Mrs. Mdlalose slammed the door shut behind us, the sound of the lock clicking loudly, sealing off any remnants of the life I had known.

Zanele led me through the sprawling house, her movements fluid as she navigated the unfamiliar space. "I know it's hard," she whispered, glancing back at me with a mixture of empathy and caution. "But try not to cry in front of her. Mrs. Mdlalose hates weakness. If she thinks you can't handle it, she'll make things even harder for you."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, feeling the sting of her words. It was an unwritten rule here, a survival tactic I'd have to adopt if I was going to make it through this ordeal. The house was vast, each room filled with luxury that felt like a cruel joke. Ornate furniture, lavish decor-this was a world of privilege I had never imagined stepping into, yet here I was, forced into the role of a maid, cleaning up after the very people who lived in opulence.

As we moved from room to room, I took in my surroundings. The kitchen was bustling with activity; chefs and cleaners hurried about, their movements practiced and efficient. I felt a pang of resentment as I watched them work without a care in the world, while I was expected to toil in the background, invisible and unacknowledged.

Zanele led me to a small pantry filled with shelves of neatly organized supplies. "You'll be helping out here," she explained, her voice low. "It's not too bad, but just know that they expect perfection. If something's out of place, you'll hear about it."