Hi everyone! This is the first chapter, and, though it is a filler, it introduces a very important character: Vivienne, the maid mentioned in the summary. This is a small peek into her life and her thoughts. There are still spots open! Please submit! I do need a few mean girls and a few girls from Caste 5. Thank you those who have entered and those who will, and thanks to anybody reading this AN and chapter! Haha... And now, enjoy!
Steam rises from the dozens of basins containing hot water. The large room is filled with condescending shouts and splashing and scrubbing, like a melody. Scrub scrub splash. Scrub scrub splash. Over and over again. Sweat drips down the maids' foreheads as they do their only job: cleaning the clothes of the guards and the royals.
Each maid sits on a stool at their own basin, dunking and scrubbing each article of clothing until it is deemed clean by the head maid, who walks around with a posture similar to the military commander of the guards. She snaps at a young girl, who is, at most, fifteen years old, when the poor maid takes a break. The girl breathes hard as sweat mixes with tears that trickle down her red cheeks. She holds her shaking, blistered hands as the head maid angrily approaches her. The girl looks up to the head maid with pleas and apologies and promises, but to no avail; she is slapped upside the head. The impact causes her to plummet forward and grasp the edge of the slippery porcelain basin before her head hits the water. She cries out in pain as the hot skin on her knuckles splits open. The head maid roughly grabs the girl's tightly braided bun -the standard hairdo required for all maids- and pushes her head into the steaming water. The maids seated around the struggling girl don't even glance up to watch the exchange; they know better than to reproach their boss. The head maid pulls the girl out of the water and gives her a few seconds of gasping and choking, then dunks her under again. This occurs five more times until the head maid tilts the girl's head back and snarls, "You never stop working until you're done cleaning, and this-" she grabs the button down shirt that lazily floats in the water, "is not clean. Get back to work." She lets the small girl's bun go, and continues her rounds, watching, like a predator waiting for prey.
She walks down the aisle, almost strutting, as she examines the maids working. She stops at one basin where a girl around the age of nineteen cleans a pair of suit pants. The maid's dull orange hair is frizzy from the stuffy heat, and her thick hair barely holds the bun. Dark brown eyes focus on the object she is washing as she pretends not to notice the head maid looming over her shoulder. Thin lips disappear as she pulls them into her mouth in anticipation. She awaits a harsh comment or a slap for something she has done wrong, but seconds go by and nothing happens.
As the maid brings the pants out of the water to scrub again, the head maid pushes her hands away as she takes the sopping wet pants from her and holds them up, inspecting them. After twisting and turning the pants, she nods and glances at the young woman sitting anxiously on the stool. Her hands are folded together, as they should be, according to the Maid's Handbook, and she keeps her head bowed.
"Vivienne," the head maid says to her, "go take these to the Drying Room. They're clean." Rising from her stool, Vivienne curtsies, and with a small "thanks", she takes the pants. "Wait," the head maid calls, "How many articles have you cleaned today?" she asks, and Vivienne notes that there is no malice in her tone.
"Sixteen total; five shirts, three pairs of pants, four pairs of shoes, two pairs of underwear, and two pairs of socks," Vivienne replies. She meets the head maid's cold blue eyes as she stares at Vivienne in thought. Looking away for a moment, the head maid commands her, "Take the rest of the day off. Your work today has been complete." Vivienne nods and briskly walks away and out of She keeps them gingerly away from her body as she carries them out the door. Breathing in the fresh, cool air, she feels the heat from her face slowly disappear. The door across from her is labeled "Drying Room" on a gold plaque on the right side of the wall.
Inside, pants, shirts, coats, and even belts and shoes hang in their categorized station. She walks towards the desk in the front of the room, where a gray-haired maid with glasses is checking off received and released clothing. The older woman writes and scribbles for a minute before asking the article number and owner without looking up.
"Article 1739, Guard Rivenson," Vivienne replies instantly. The woman nods and writes the information down on a sticker, then places the sticker on a hanger. She takes the pair of wet pants that are still dripping onto the clean tile floor and hangs them up. She disappears behind the pants section, then reappears a few seconds later. Returning to the desk, she hands Vivienne a clipboard and pen. Vivienne searches for her article's number, then signs her name next to it in the column titled "Item's Washer". She hands the pen and clipboard back to the old woman then curtsies and turns to walk out of the room.
Closing the door behind her, Vivienne turns left and walks down the long hallway, which has a couple doors on each side. Recognizing the rooms labeled "Dirty Collection" and "Clean Clothes", she sighs, wishing a promotion to a better job could come soon. Her hands are rough and the skin has been burnt so many times she no longer feels the heat of the water. The shoulders that should be soft and feminine are broad and muscular and her back is chronically in pain from hunching over so much.
Unfortunately, this is her life and the only way to keep herself alive. She greatly dislikes it, but, as her father is a cook in the kitchen and her mother is a dusting maid, she had ended up working as soon as she turned twelve, the minimum working age for sixes. She had no choice in her job selection; the Chief Maids put her where work was most needed, which happened to be in the Washing Room, the most despised job in the palace. Seven years later and Vivienne still works in the Washing Room every day of the year, with the exception of June 16, her birthday.
Vivienne doesn't like to pity herself. She knows it would do her no good, all the moping and sighing and dreaming and hoping. Life for her is what has been given to her, yet she's managed to discover an escape, an outing from the laborious years of just existing and working without truly feeling the positive feelings. Joy, content, and freedom are among the list of unfelt feelings, whereas anger, sadness, and fear are always felt, and Vivienne wishes she had a fair balance of both. That plan is her hope to feel...
It has a slim chance of succeeding, but she is desperate to leave and forget working had for somebody else without a gracious word or reward. She wants to be someone, not something. Wants her own image, her own self, Vivienne wants control. Who is she? She is a maid...but is that it? Surely she must be made of something more descriptive, right? She is tired of questioning her identity; Vivienne doesn't know herself besides what everyone else in Illea has told her she is: a six, a maid who works in the palace, but nothing more. She wants to be funny or serious or courageous or cowardly. If she can just get away from tiring work, run away from the troubles of being a six, maybe she can find who she is. If she could just figure out her own self, what makes her who she is, maybe she'd be content with her job. If she could just see herself, maybe her feelings of insecurity and distress would slowly fade away. If, if, if...
Vivienne's so lost in her thoughts she doesn't realize she's in the Workers' Quarter until she almost runs into Door 529. Fishing the rusty key from the left chest pocket of her uniform, she jiggles it around in the lock before pushing the old door open. It creaks and wiggles, and Vivienne wonders how much longer the door will stay intact. She hurries inside, quickly shutting and locking the door behind her.
She sighs, leaning her head against the door and pretending that all of her stupidly negative and wishful thoughts were blocked by the door. Turning around, Vivienne searches the small room for signs of life. Two small cots sit with their headboards against the left wall. Separating them is a small dresser. A plain black rectangular decorates the plain room. Dirty white walls and hard cream tile, with a ceiling light but no fan. The room is windowless, as the whole Workers' Quarters living complex is a couple stories underground. The light is already on, illuminating only a quarter of the area. To the right of her is a closet and a long, floor-length mirror. None of the rooms has bathrooms; there are communal bathrooms with showers on each floor.
Walking over to her cot, a flash of orange catches Vivienne's eye and she turns towards it. Often times, Vivienne ignores the mirror, knowing that all she will find would be unattractive. But now, as she looks in the long mirror, the image that reflects back motivates her to leave this life even more. Dull orange hair, lifeless brown eyes, and an always frowning face stares back at her. Why should she live her short life unhappy? It isn't fair.
She looks away. Negative and wishful thoughts stay on the other side of the door, she reminds herself. She spins around and goes over to her cot, sitting down next to the lump that was curled underneath the thin covers.
"Ethan," she whispers, gently shaking the small boy. "Ethan, wake up. It's Viv. Don't you want to say hello to me?" Ethan groans and sits up, rubbing his half-lidded blue eyes. He looks around with temporary confusion before his eyes catch on Vivienne's orange hair.
"Pretty," he says, climbing onto Vivienne and pulling and twisting her hair until it falls out of its bun. Ethan squeals with delight as the pins make little pings when they collide with the floor. Vivienne strokes Ethan's wildly curly orange hair as he sits looking at Vivienne in wonder. He crosses and uncrosses his eyes, and soon a line of drool begins to dribble from his mouth.
Vivienne giggles and playfully says, "Whoops! Better clean that up before you create a river." Ethan, not fully understanding the words but liking the tone of voice, was put in a giggle fit. Vivienne gets up and grabs the cloth from the top drawer from the dresser that is specifically set aside for times like this and wipes the thick slobber off the eleven year old's face. Ethan is still giggling, but he abruptly stops as he feels the cloth against his skin. He screws his eyes together and shakes his head, trying to stop the uncomfortable rubbing.
"Ethan, I have to clean you up," Vivienne tries to explain, grabbing Ethan's chin. This only makes the boy more upset and he begins to wail and cry. The older sister sighs and drops the cloth. The responsibilities of taking care of her mentally ill brother are immense and frustrating.
Vivienne's family had suspected Ethan's illness as soon as he begun to form jumbled words. When he turned two, the family had felt hope subside into sadness when he still was not forming phrases or words. However, Vivienne's parents were willing to do anything to keep their son from becoming a helpless eight. With the discreet help of a Chief Maid who took pity on the family, Ethan's file disappeared. It was almost as if he never existed in the first place. Vivienne couldn't care less if Ethan was technically nonexistent; nothing mattered as long as he was safe.
Ethan is small for his age, and Vivienne picks him up and sets him on her hip, bouncing him. His crying becomes sniffles, then turns into hiccups. Vivienne giggles as Ethan tries to cover his mouth or hit his chest, unsure why his body is doing such a strange thing. Walking around the room, she continues to bounce him, and, after a couple minutes, his hiccups go away.
She sets Ethan down and looks at the clock that hangs above the door.
7:23
Suddenly Vivienne's sad mood is lifted and is replaced with hope. In seven minutes, she would be meeting her secret lover, if she could even call him that. She truthfully feels no love towards him, but being in a relationship with him pours benefits. He is her escape plan. If he marries Vivienne, not only could she find her identity with newfound freedom, but Ethan would be able to live beyond Door 529 without the fear of him being dropped castes. Her parents would no longer have to work endless hours, but would be able to live the rest of their lives in luxury. Only positive things could come from a marriage, and Vivienne is willing to sacrifice finding true love one day for her family.
In seven minutes, another secret meeting with her "lover" would commence.
In seven minutes, she would be kissing Prince Lucas yet again.
Oh Vivienne, what a sneaky girl. So there it was! I do need more submissions! I am not deciding who will be Prince Lucas' match until after I receive all characters. Please review and tell me what you think!