Chapter 1: The First day
She couldn't remember the last time she had worn anything other than this black gown that had practically become her second skin after having it on her back for more than two successive months. Her old life was thrown off her shoulder along with her former bright clothes the moment her name became "Hayley". The sound of it drove her nuts and she wished she could open the door of the car and throw herself in front of the first passing truck. Thankfully, the car was locked and she was too exhausted to pull that stunt.
She could feel the blue mark around her left eye turning slowly into a perfect shade of reddish purple because of the many slaps she had received from Aunt Maggie. Her recurring disobedience towards the Centre staff usually led to severe punishment from the despicable pudgy old woman. Thinking of it, she considered herself as quite submissive compared to her mate Sophie who didn't act as slavish as the rest of the maids, yet managed somehow to get away with her conspicuous eye-rolling and loud puffing whenever she took orders from the Aunts. Hayley didn't understand why she got beaten for nothing, or at least for what seemed nothing to her. This Aunt Maggie, secretly referred to as "Rasputina" for her monastic style and nauseatingly religious convictions, had those mannish clammy hands that would land on her skin like a rawhide whip. The mere thought of it caused her to shudder.
This car was taking her somewhere different. She wondered what type of Rasputins were waiting for her in the new house she was heading to. Sure they couldn't be worse than Maggie? No one could beat an aunt in a game of cruelty anyways.
The driver was a man in his early thirties. He had short hair and olive skin. She couldn't make out his face but he looked handsome for a driver. Maybe he wasn't that good-looking or maybe she saw him that way because her eyes missed the sight of anyone from the opposite sex. Speaking of missing, her mind drifted to her boyfriend, Jackson. She missed him so much.
But she missed freedom more.
The van stopped abruptly, making her bounce in her seat and nearly lose balance. Another guy in his late twenties opened the door for her. His hand was extended politely toward hers but she ignored his gentlemanlike gesture and walked away. Her head rose up to study the plantation house she was going to abide. A house huge enough to shelter a neighborhood, not to mention the big garden that bordered the entrance like a savanna, making it hard to discern the front door. It reminded her of one of these hunted houses from the 90's horror movies that looked nice from the outside but were brimmed with monsters and phantoms behind the mahogany red door. Everything omened bad news to her.
She held her breath and clasped the seams of her black dress for support because right now her legs were well-nigh dead and she could collapse at any given moment. She shouldn't let this lavish frontage tricks her into liking her new dwelling because nothing of it sounded promising.
Hayley took a few steps forward before she cast a final glance at the departing car. There was no coming back. Her fate was sealed and whatever horrible people were waiting for her inside, she needed to learn how to put up with them and adjust to being their slave until she found a way to escape.
The driver escorted her doorward and left after he had rung the doorbell. Hayley was standing awkwardly at the door step, feeling like a delivered parcel waiting to be unpacked and put into use. But again, wasn't she any different from a marchandise? A one-purpose machine sold for the highest bid, an incubator to be passed from one person to another then thrown away like a used-up Kleenex. Nevertheless, they persisted on calling her "Hero" for choosing to be a handmaid, the future of the next generation, when in reality she was kidnapped and forced to become so.
Fuck them and their disgusting lexicon. To hell the next generations, she just wanted to save herself and get away from here.
The door opened and a middle aged woman came into view. A Martha. Hayley saw a few of them in the centre. Their job was to cater for the home owners and do a variety of chores. They usually wore grey uniforms with small hats that barely cover their foreheads. It appeared that no one was allowed to wear any colorful clothing except for the elites, which conformed quite well to the grim world of Gaya.
The woman looked at her with a restrained smile and beckoned to her to enter. Hayley nodded and followed suit. She stepped into the house with her right foot, following her grandmother's say "if you want to get into the right place, set the right foot"
The house in the inside looked different from what she had expected. It was bright, scarcely furnished but she noticed the considerable number of paintings on the walls. Most of them were portraits of children and babies.
Are they theirs? She wondered.
Another middle-aged woman who was walking down the stairs greeted her with the same restricted smile. Nothing of the way she looked at her inspired insurance, her dark azure eyes inspected her from head to toe as she reached the last step. She had gilded long hair tied in a severe vintage bun and a porcelaine complexion. Her brown-hemmed dress that matched her varnish heels hung on her lithe body loosely. She was wearing no earrings, no necklace at all, yet had an aristocratic allure that Hayley found quite intimidating. The handmaid couldn't help but look at the ugly pair of shoes she was allotted. It's funny how her old fashionista-self manifested even in those moments without fail. The sound of short footsteps coming from the corridor startled her from her bubble of thoughts and she turned her head instantly to the left. Hey eyes fell on a suited man with a strong jawline who looked at her with a formal expression. He gave her a short pleasant smile, though warmer than the blonde's, still came across as quite frightening. Hayley looked at him into the eye without uttering a word and she noticed the way his gaze fell into a quizzical, almost offended glare. What did she do? She was barely trying to figure it out when she receiveed a tight pinch from the Martha out of nowhere, causing the her to yelp in agony.
"You will always look down, understand!" the martha barked with a hectoring voice.
Oh yes, rule number 4 of how to be a good slave. Never look up and always maintain your head in low position. It's an act of transgression to look up, and any form of transgression is rewarded with severe punishment. So far, Hayley had received whips, slaps and pinches but she also heard that punishment could involve burning and member amputation as well. The mere idea of losing a part of her body scared the daylight out of her.
"You're welcome to the Mikaelsons mansion Hayley" the blonde spoke confidently, paused for a moment and resumed "my name is Esther and this is Elijah" she gestured to the brown-haired man standing alongside her.
He must be her master.
"We're happy to have you here, your service is highly prized. I will sure find the best way to thank you for coming for our rescue because we do really need your help" his word sounded like sharp nails scratching a slate to her. Sure he would find a way to thank her, by raping her for instance.
"Thank you" she answered meekly, eyes glued to the floor.
"Hayley, you know the rules but I'm not here to remind you of them. I'm counting on Maggie to show you how to behave and I expect as well that her efforts bear fruit in the few months to come" her tone was tense and commending and the handmaid felt her burden getting heavier by the moment. She knew that her lack of commitment will stand in her way, but at the same time she couldn't force herself to embrace the role of a slave with open arms. She needed to fight this whole system and herself at the same if she intended to survive. This was what she used to tell herself until she saw the Mikaelsons. Her determination was replaced with irresolution and her fears seemed to pile up. She couldn't shake off the homicidal thoughts. She could actually see herself killing one of them in a cold blood.
"Yes my Lady" Hayley nodded, eyes staring at her ugly moccasins.
"Your lord Nicklaus is busy having a meeting in his study. He is my second son and the man you shall serve and obey as part of your sacred duty" said Esther, bringing Hayley to raise a brow.
Who is Nicklaus?
The name itself was a sore to her ears and she hoped his owner wasn't as painful to be around. She didn't know whether to feel relieved that her master wasn't Elijah or not because from what she gathered the Mikaelsons were all scary and cold and so would be this Nicklaus. Whoever he was, the outcome was the same.
"Lauren could you please escort her to her room" requested Elijah, his eyes still bearing on Hayley.
"Yes Lord" Says Lauren with an acquiescent nod. She walked Hayley to her room, which was the inmost chamber in the house, feeling like she was walking to her own cell with every step she set. The Martha opened the door for her and she entered the chamber. It was a small room, plain but in a dull way. There was a bed, a wardrobe with only black dresses and a small wooden table beneath the window. A cell indeed.
Lauren showed her the bathroom afterwards. No mirror of course, another security measure to prevent handmaids from slitting their throats or cutting their veins with a splinter. Glad to know they were at least aware of how miserable a life these women were leading.
"This is your bathroom, mind the heater, it's broken. But we will have it fixed this afternoon. And again, if you want to take a bath make sure not to lock the door. I may come check up on you" The Martha explained thoroughly but Hayley wasn't responsive and chose to keep her mouth shut. She was itching to ask her many questions though, like when is the ceremony, but she couldn't muster the courage to do it.
"In addition to giving this family the child they yen for, you have a few errands to run. Here is your schedule" She gave her a copy of what looked like a timetable "And lest we forget, tonight is the ceremony. At 9 p.m I will myself take you to Mr. Mikaelson's room"
Although Hayley already knew what was waiting for her, she somehow felt disappointed that the ceremony was going to take place on her first day, a part of her wished they had given her at least a few days' grace until she familiarized with her new surroundings. Besides her master was still a mystery to her. Was he simply going to barge in and throwm himself onto her without introduction? Would he ever show up before the ceremony? Trying at least to give a good impression by giving her a false sense of security before raping her. Because right now she was in desperate need for soothing words or any form of sympathy. If she was to surrender herself to this Nicklaus, which was unlikely to happen, he needed at least to begin his endeavor with a genuine apology. Unfortunately, she had more chances of fleeing Gaya than having him vindicate his actions.
Nicklaus. She abhorred him and his strident name already.
"Yes Madam" nodded Hayley as she clutched the sheet of paper bitterly.
"See you at 9" said Lauren before she left the room in quick steps. How much do they pay her to make her act so dutifully, Hayley wondered. She must be another woman who was ripped of her freedom and ended up serving a family treating her like horse crap only because she had too loose a vagina to keep a baby from falling off it. Maybe she was playing her part too well, maybe behind this obedient Martha façade, there was an undercover apostate waiting for the right moment to strike.
Or maybe she was someone mean because she was born mean.
The Martha closed the door, Hayley was alone with no one but her ugly shoes and the creased sheet of paper in her hand. She began to read the timetable and was shocked at the number of hours spent in the kitchen. Don't they have a Martha? Aside from spreading her legs every once in a month, she had to help with the cooking and take care of a dog called "Caesar". Why not bother hiring another maid? Is this how they treat a hero?
She stomped back to her room and started to contemplate the ceiling. Neon light instead of pendant. She once heard Sophie gabbing about a handmaid who was found dead in her room. Apparently, the poor girl couldn't take it anymore and hung herself from the ceiling in her first week. It must be the reason why they replaced the old lights with neon so as to avoid similar incidents. Hayley didn't remember her name, neither did she know the reason behind her suicide, but if there was something she knew was that she would do anything she could to not end up like her.
She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed. This was the position she was instructed to opt for during the act, the missionary, on her back and eyes locked with the ceiling. It's impossible how everything reminded her of the ceremony. Exasperatedly, the brunette sat up and started to mumble nervously a lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. The song was about a girl who was perky and full of life but she would face many ordeals that she would later pull through them all owing to her braveness and wits. Perhaps her mother saw the girl of the song in her.
Overwhelmed by her childhood memory, Hayley's eyes began to water and she broke into sobs. She couldn't hold back her emotions when they suddenly flare up like an erupting volcano. Her fears that she managed to keep abeyant for so long started to awake and it was neither the right time nor the best place to have a meltdown.
Not today.
Not tonight.
A brief shower brought her back from her nostalgic reveries. It was raining. She half- closed the curtains then lay back on the bed, this time facing thwindow and started counting the droplets of rain that snaked down the glass of the window at the same pace as her flowing tears.
I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter. The number of reviews will decide if I should continue or not. Looking forwards to your feedback.
