Evelyn

Why? Thedra cries after me as I walk away from the shed where I’ve left her trapped.

I’ve wondered that too. What it was about that young, pretty, hard working girl that so drew my ire and brought me to this point? When did it begin to feel like I was losing to Thedra Clyde in every respect?

I was young once. I was tall and beautiful with eyes like flashing emeralds. I worked hard and brought myself from poverty to positions of dignity within some of the wealthiest houses in the country. But no more. I am old now, bent and jaded. I follow through on nothing, content to assign tasks rather than complete anything on my own. What was the point? I asked myself. Why work so hard to clean when I’d just have to do it all over again tomorrow?

In the beginning I only wanted her mother’s reward, but over time my desire to be rid of her became personal. Thedra resisted my every move, meeting my petty tyranny and indolence with humble defiance and hard work, making me look smaller and meaner with each passing day. Thanks to my abuse she even managed to catch the master’s eye and win his heart, though she is still too stupid to see it.

Mr. Bentham is ugly, but undeniably rich. A poor girl like Thedra will surely accept his marriage proposal, and want for nothing for the rest of her life, living comfortably with servants to do her bidding, and money to buy every luxury she could ever desire. So, I ask myself again, when did it happen, exactly?

When did I start to feel so jealous, so inferior to that girl that I could no longer stand it?

The master was exhausted last night when he arrived home. He brought his jeweled prize to the safe, but in his weariness he failed to lock it properly. Finding it open, I was unable to resist my curiosity and peeked inside.

Money tempts me, but I value my skin too much to steal such a thing from my employer. When it comes to sparkling jewels, however, I lose all rationality. Especially when I saw the bracelet in the box with the shiny red ribbon, and knew he’d bought it for Thedra; suddenly I coveted it so much that I lost my mind.  

I took all the jewelry, not just the ruby bracelet. He had other pieces cut in older styles, heirlooms, I assume, each one worth a small fortune. Then I locked the safe and carried them to a nearby guestroom.

I knew I couldn’t take them to my quarters— if the master found them missing and called a search I’d be discovered. But if I slipped the jewelry into an envelope and hid it behind a book in this room almost no one ever visits, I could return for it the next day when it was time for me to leave for the holiday, and slip out with it completely unnoticed. This was my plan, but when I came to retrieve the envelope this afternoon, I couldn’t resist trying on the new bangle, and admiring the rubies by the light of the window.

It was my own stupid fault for forgetting to lock the door in my eagerness. When I heard it open I thought I would die from a heart attack, but it was only Thedra, that artless little fool.

Though she failed in the moment to realize the importance of what she’d witnessed, when word got out the jewels were missing I knew she’d be able to point the master right to me. And so I had no choice. I had to get rid of her.

Thinking quickly, I sent her scurrying off on a pointless task, knowing if I threatened her she wouldn’t take time to properly clothe herself for the weather, and I followed after, as quickly and as quietly as I could manage with my bad heart. The hasty trek alone nearly killed me, but it was worth it. I managed to catch her with her back turned in the shed.

I could laugh when I recall the way her face looked as I closed the door on her. Her feeble cries and faint pounding on the door hardly pierced the solid wooden shed. With so many servants gone for the holiday, there’s no way anyone will find her in there before she freezes to death. 

They’ll discover Thedra Clyde’s body two weeks from now after New Year, frozen solid. Meanwhile I’ll be long gone from here with the jewels, selling a few to buy myself a nice house and having the others reset so I might display them prominently on my fingers, neck and wrists. So clothed I will drink in the envy of everyone I meet and enjoy an easy life where I never have to work again.

No more inferior to Thedra, at last I will stand at the top, knowing I have taken all that should have been hers.

Even her life.  

Thedra

Alone in the freezing shed I’m scared, but I mustn’t panic. I mustn’t waste the body heat I still have by running blindly through the darkness. I must concentrate my efforts on a single point of escape if I’m to stand even the slightest chance of survival.

Carefully, with my hands outstretched I begin to move about the shed. There must be something in here, an axe or a screwdriver, something that will let me break through the door. God, please let me find something.

I feel along the shelves and find a pair of thick gardening gloves. For now I slip them into my pocket, I still need my sensitive fingers to tell me what it is I’m touching, though they grow icier and more numb by the minute.

I find many garden implements, rakes, hoes and shovels, all too long and cumbersome to be of any use to me in this situation. There are stakes and other bits of wood, there is coarse sandpaper and springs, hoses and watering cans. Nothing useful at all!

Then my foot catches on a bucket and I go pitching forward into the darkness. I collide with a shelf and strike my forehead painfully on the edge. Blood trickles down into my eyes and I wipe it with a shaking hand. Then I put my hand out to push myself up, and it lands on a small garden trowel with a slightly sharpened edge. Hope surges within me and I clasp it.

This! This could work.

Carefully I make my way back to the shed door. It’s difficult to locate in the absolute darkness but after a few minutes of feeling around, I’m certain I’ve found it again. Then I pull on the oversized gloves and go to work.

“Help!” I yell as I hammer the point of the trowel into the wood over where I guess the outside handle is. “Is anybody out there?! Help me!”

My plan is to somehow chip an opening into the wood wide enough to get my hand through so I can lift the latch. Gauging by how solid the door seems it might be hopeless, but it’s all I’ve got, and it seems better than pounding the door helplessly with my fists. I already know no one will be looking for me.

It’s freezing. Even with the exercise of striking the door over and over, my body shivers with cold. If only I hadn’t been so frightened of Evelyn, I would have grabbed a coat. Of course, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

Best not think of it, I tell myself, redoubling my efforts with the trowel. When I get out of here, she’ll answer for what she did to me. If I get out of here…

“Help!” I continue to cry while I work. My odds of being heard must be one in ten thousand, but I can’t give up hope. “Help!”

I don’t know how much time passes, but I feel the temperature dropping with each minute. My arms ache from trying to wear a hole through the wood, though the door seems just as solid as before. What is this made of? Solid oak?

My voice is failing. I limit my cries for help to one every minute, then to one every five minutes. The effort of trying to cut a hole into the door has left me drenched with perspiration, and the wet only saps my body heat faster. I’m shivering so hard now I can no longer cry out.

“H-h-help,” my voice comes out in a croaking whisper. “Someone… please…”

No one answers.