Once I finished with my chores I made my way to the kitchen to help with dinner for the guests tonight. When I got there the Butcher was already slicing meat, getting blood on his pink stained apron. 

   The Butcher was a burly man, with hair everywhere other than his head. His gut stretched against his already worn out shirt, wanting to break free of any restraints that clothes represented. When I first got here I thought he was a troll, he has two bottom front teeth that stick out from his lips and shouts when he talks. 

   I still have an inkling that he’s at least descended from trolls. 

   I tried to sneak past him so that I don’t have to get an earful of how I was late. But of course, the heavens are against me.

   “YOU’RE LATE.” He bellowed, causing me to flinch from how loud he was. 

   “I am sorry sir,” I said, bowing my head so I didn’t have to look at his blind eye that’s bigger than the eye that can actually see. 

   “YOU WILL LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU ARE SPEAKING TO ME, GIRL.” He said, almost rattling my brain with his voice. 

   I lifted my head to him and could not stop staring at the milky white eye. 

   He reached over and palmed a strand of my pale, white hair. I flinched at how close he was, it made him give a gnarly smile that showed those god awful yellow looking teeth on full display. His stench invaded my senses. The smell of sweat mixed with blood. 

   Almost made me gag. Luckily I kept my disgust from showing.  

   “AND PUT THIS DAMN WHITE HAIR UP BEFORE YOU GET IT IN THE FOOD, YOU INSOLENT FOOL!” He yelled, letting my hair go. His hand left a red streak in the strand. 

   “Yes, sir. I am truly sorry.” I bowed my head out of habit and tried to jerk it back up but I was too late, he noticed. 

   He brought his meaty hand down on my face, slapping me. It caused my head to swing left and my hand went up instinctually to the right side of my face which started to burn. 

   I did not cry, or scream. That would make it worse. I stayed silent. 

   “I TOLD YOU TO LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU SPEAK, GIRL!” He screamed. 

   I stayed silent. It was my fault after all, I should have listened to him. 

   “NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND GET TO WORK!” 

   I basically scurried away trying to get as much distance between me and him as fast as I could. It’s not that I was afraid to get hit again after all it was a common occurrence, but I did not want him to be angry anymore. Especially if I was the one who caused those ugly feelings out of anyone. 

   Patricia was the other person I had to check in with, she was the one who gave me the chores I do other than the Madam. Patricia was a few years older than me, but extremely wise for her age. Although she sometimes gave me my punishments, she was the nicest out of them all. Her punishments happened less so I liked her.

   Not that I don’t like the other people in this house, but she’s definitely the nicest. 

   I literally ran into her in my haste to get away from the Butcher. She was carrying a pail of boiling hot water that spilled over me. The heat hurt my skin but that’s not what I was worried about. 

   No, that would be the look of rage on Patricia’s face. And let me say, she was mad.

   “You slow-witted brat!” She screamed, causing me to recoil. 

   You’d think I’d be used to loud voices because of how much that tone is used towards me, but it still made me frightened that I could cause that kind of rage out of someone.

   “I am sorry.” I bowed my head looking down at her feet that were covered in wethered, brown boots. 

   “Stop apologizing and fix what you just did!” She screeched, her pitch reaching a higher octave. 

   “Yes ma’am.” I said, hurrying to pick up the empty pail, the hot metal burning my hands but it was better than the heat in Patricia’s gaze as she watched me. 

   “Go fill that up with water and put it over the fire. While the water is heating, start peeling the potatoes and put it in the pail. The Madam commanded us to have some mashed potatoes prepared.” Patricia said, turning on her heel and stalking away. 

   I stood there for a second before getting to work.

   I was a little dumbfounded about the request for mashed potatoes. The Madam hates mashed potatoes so she forbids us to make it. So why is she asking for it now? Is it because of the guests? Even so, I’ve never heard her ask for something everyone knows she hates for someone else just because they like it. 

   It’s truly magnificent how generous she is.

   After heading to the well to collect more water, I carried it to the kitchen using the servant halls and put it over the fire. Luckily the fire had already been ignited so I didn’t have to worry about it. Was it Patricia? Was this her way of apologizing about what had happened? Even so, it was not her fault but mine, so this is entirely too kind. 

   That brought a smile to my face as I worked on peeling the potatoes with a small, evil blade. I watched as the knife made its way around and around the potato, peeling the skin off the slippery vegetable. 

   Would it be just as easy to peel off human skin with this knife? Maybe then I might actually feel something for myself instead of worrying about someone else. What a release that would be. I thought, my voice instead of Rosy’s this time. 

   That’s also nice. 

   Not having someone else control my thoughts. 

   If only-

   A slice of pain evaded my senses, causing my train of thought to disappear. My eyes focused on my hand which currently had the tip of a knife slicing across my palm. I held the knife with my other hand thinking that I might feel something but all I thought about was how my blood was getting all over the food that I wasn’t even going to eat. 

   God! What was wrong with me? Why was I suddenly thinking about myself? I know better than to be selfish like that. 

   It only leads to bad. And I don’t want to be bad. Not ever. 

   I hurried to clean up yet another mess I have made and continued preparing the mashed potatoes. Making sure I don’t lose control of myself again in the process. 

   Finishing up I put the big batch of potatoes in one of the porcelain serving bowls. As I was cleaning the dishes I had dirtied, the Madam walked in. 

   I turned to her. “Good evening Madam. I hope you are having a nice day,” I say, bowing my head. She has black dress shoes on, that gleamed in the flickering light of the lantern. 

   “I was until I heard you were causing trouble again.” She said, disappointment radiating off of her.

   That made me disappointed in myself. “I am sorry Madam.”

   “No need for that, we both know you don’t mean that.”

   “But I do-”

   “You don’t need to lie with me.” She took a step forward me, I didn’t dare even breathe. “We both know you’re a serpent slithering around for scraps.” Her hand shot out and grabbed my chin, jerking my head up to look her in the eyes. She had black, soulless eyes that only warmed when around her daughter. “You’re pathetic.” She spat. 

   I could only cower. My eyes burned with unshed tears, threatening to break free. Why was she like this? What have I done to her?

   You know what you did. Rosy’s voice filled my head. You’re a reminder of that disgusting woman. 

   “I am sorry.” I said, my lip trembling in effort to control my tears. 

   Tears of hatred for myself. I hate myself. I should've brought that knife to my throat when I’d had the chance. 

   Then you would have bled all over our food. The Madam’s voice said this time. You selfish brat. 

   “I’m so sorry,” I said out loud, voice wavering.

   The Madam scoffed and dropped my face as if she was disgusted with herself that she even touched me. “Go get cleaned up. You are ordered to serve food tonight. We’ll deal with your punishment later.” She paused, leveling a deadly glare at me. “You will not mess up tonight, or else.”

   I bowed. “Yes ma’am.”