One
You sigh deeply, a long, slow exhalation of breath, as your shoulders sink, and you lower your eyes to the ground, trying to focus only on your feet, and zone everything else out. Though in your peripheral vision, you can still see the deep red stain as it soaks into the thick white woollen carpet. The glass is laid on its side, the last remnants of wine spilling from the rim in a thin stream of crimson. Maybe you can just run from here, cast everything aside and pretend it wasn't you. They don't pay you that much anyway, would it be a great loss if you quit before they could fire you? Of course it would. You need the money. You just ruined everything.
Why?
You weren't paying attention at work, something Erica has told you off about countless times. But this time, it wasn't a gentle daydream that cloaked your mind in a veil of distraction. It was the realisation that you were standing in a different lifestyle, and once you left that room, reality would crash back onto your shoulders and resume suffocating you. You were in the Penthouse, a temporary upgrade, as the usual VIP maid had been caught during intimate relations with a VIP member, and sacked on the spot.
That VIP member left, but you never liked him anyway. Nobody did, except the ex-maid. You felt sure that even the other VIP members avoided this creepy sack of flesh like the plague, because no amount of money can make someone attractive when they're highly egotistical, and resemble a rotting slab of pork. Anyway, with a vacant space in the Penthouse, of course you put your hand up and eagerly begged to be upgraded. Erica grumbled about it, but Hikaru was sweet enough to persuade her into letting you take that place.
You were folding the sheets, corner to corner, just like you'd been taught, and easing them from where they'd been neatly tucked beneath the mattress, and you heard a soft chink as the back of your hand collided with something. A half-filled glass of wine, balanced somewhat precariously on the edge of the smooth oak sidetable. You watched in horror as it toppled, you reached for it with both hands, only to see it lightly skim your fingertips as you missed the stem, and the liquid splashed onto the pure white carpet, pouring away your hope as it freely flowed. You didn't snatch it up, you were frozen in shock and horror, paralysed with dread. So it remained on the floor, evidence of how badly you'd screwed up.
Now, you look up, tension brewing deep within the pit of your stomach. There's a quiet scuffle outside the door, which makes your skin prickle, and sets your heart pounding as you swallow, feeling a knot in your throat, slowly choking you with unease, tension, fear. Your eyes widen in panic as you see the handle on the door slowly dip, you hear the click of the catch sliding across, allowing the door to move freely, and then...
It opens.