45
~Lisa's POV
I didn't know how much time had passed. All I knew was the rhythm of the water rushing from the tap, the feel of the rough brush in my sore hands, and the vegetables lined up in the sink like an endless punishment. I was still washing, still scrubbing. My back ached. My arms felt numb. The skin around my fingers had started to wrinkle and sting from being in water for too long, but I didn't stop.
I couldn't stop.
It was easier to keep scrubbing than to think. Easier to stay bent over the sink than to lift my head and meet their stares, the maids who watched me like I was something foul. Something that didn't belong.
They still whispered about me.
They still giggled every time I moved too slowly or winced from the pain. But I blocked it out. I was somewhere else in my head, somewhere quiet, where I didn't feel this way. Somewhere far from the kitchen, far from the memories, far from them.
I was trying to hold on.
But then I heard her voice again.
