I grabbed the doorknob, refusing to let go. My heart raced as I struggled against it, desperate to open it back up. But his strength overpowered mine. Seconds later, I heard the sharp click of the lock sliding into place.
Horror washed through me.
"Why? Why do people keep doing this to me?!" I screamed, pounding on the door. "Am I the only one who doesn't deserve a chance? Am I the one with no responsibilities to take care of?"
The silence that followed nearly broke me.
Finally, his muffled voice seeped through the door. "I'm sorry, Gilda. I knew you'd be stubborn, that's why I had no choice. The management doesn't want anyone standing in Vera's way. She's the star now. Maybe if you had half her fame, you wouldn't be here."
His footsteps faded, leaving me in the suffocating quiet of my new prison.
I slid down against the cold door, my body folding into itself. Curling my legs until my knees touched my jaw, I hugged myself tightly. Again, Vera. Always Vera. It was as if her shadow was destined to strangle every flicker of light in my life.
The air smelled faintly of lavender, so floral and fresh and so out of place. I frowned. Why would a storage room carry such a scent when it should reek of dust, mildew and forgotten things?
Curiosity pushed me to my feet. I fumbled for my old smartphone, its cracked screen glowing faintly as I turned on the flashlight. The beam cut through the dimness, brushing over crates, bags and shadows until I froze.
Two wide, doe-like eyes stared back at me from behind a sack of potatoes.
It was a child.
Startled, I blinked. The girl looked so small and fragile, tucked away like a ghost. The moment she realized I wasn't a threat, she bolted forward. Before I could steady myself, she flung herself into my arms, knocking me backward onto the floor.
Her tiny arms wrapped tightly around me.
Instinctively, I held her, my palm moving in slow circles across her trembling back. "It's okay," I whispered without even thinking. "You're safe now."
And just like that, the crushing weight in my chest seemed to ease. My anger, my shame, my despair.... everything was drowned out by the simple act of holding her. For the first time in hours, maybe even days, I felt something other than pain.
*****
I pressed the alarm bell in my father's living room again. The security at the gate had already let me in, but the real problem lay ahead, waiting for either my stepmother or my sister to open the main door. For over an hour now, I had been pressing that bell, yet none of them showed up.
I glanced at my phone to check the time. It was barely 9 pm. Meaning I had returned around eight.
I would have been home much earlier, but I had given the little girl all the money I had on me to buy herself some sweets after dropping her out of the storage room through that tiny window.
It had been an excruciating task, one that left me with bruises and an ugly cut on my arm. But because the girl was safe, I didn't mind the pain.
"Who is that fool disturbing someone's sleep at this time? How dare you…!" a voice thundered from inside.
Finally, the door creaked open and fury greeted me, Vera's face twisted with rage. But the moment she saw it was me, all that anger drained, leaving her pale and startled, as though she had seen a ghost.
Vera never slept this early. Besides, the party at the club near the hotel wasn't supposed to end until 2 a.m. at the earliest. So why was she here, already in her pajamas, eyes heavy with sleep? In my judgment, she must have been in bed for a long time now.
Perhaps she returned home when she got bored, realizing she had no one left to torment after locking me up in the storage room. Or maybe she was simply too baffled at how I managed to free myself, since she had taken every measure to keep me trapped just so I wouldn't stand a chance at the role she was dying to snatch tomorrow.
"You?" she gasped, her tone a mix of surprise and confusion, staring at me like I was some kind of apparition.
I said nothing. I had no strength to waste on her. Silently, I walked past her through the gap in the door. I was too exhausted for arguments.
All I wanted was to rest my head on my bed. At least that much was still mine until tomorrow, when I would once again be forced to shoulder all the house chores because they refused to hire maids. To them, I was enough.
"The daughter of a whore is finally back," my stepmother's voice rang out from the living room just as I reached for the stairs.
I stopped for a second, my jaw tightening. This was my father's house, the only reason I still endured their cruelty. That and the simple fact that I had no money to find a place of my own.
A bitter hiss escaped me inwardly. If only I hadn't been foolish enough to spend all my savings on that so-called love of mine, who turned out to be nothing but a user, I wouldn't still be stuck here.
"Here. I've been waiting for you to hand this over," my stepmother said, stretching a brown envelope toward me.
The television flickered in the background with the documentary she was watching. She had been awake the entire time I stood outside, pressing the alarm bell endlessly, yet she hadn't thought it fit to open the door.
Swallowing my rising frustration, I stepped toward her and reached for the envelope and opened it. Halfway through, I froze. My eyes narrowed, and I looked straight at her, my expression hardening with sudden fire.