My Life as a Maid
A.N. Guys? 100 reviews! Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy I am :) I think I'll cry! ...Maybe not. Thank you for reviews, favourites and alerts! So, I hope you like Chapter 10 as usual!
It was midnight. The house was still. The party had stopped, and I could hear their footsteps as they left the house. I lay in bed, wrapped up in my blanket. I knew that I'd have a lot of cleaning tomorrow. It'd be best to get asleep. I shut my eyes and tried not to think about anything. I turned over onto my left side. I turned to my right. I even counted sheep. But there was nothing to get me to sleep. I yawned once or twice, but my body refused to rest. I was tired, and yet I wasn't tired enough to fall asleep.
"Go to sleep, go to sleep," I muttered, covering my face with my pillow. "Go to sleep."
"Flaky?"
I froze with my face still buried in my pillow. I moved stiffly, looking over at the laundry chute. I wrapped my blanket tighter around me and sat there in the dark, listening carefully.
"Flaky? Are you awake?"
I listened as Flippy continued to call for me. I closed my eyes and brought my knees up closer to me. I wanted to answer, and at the same time I didn't. I wanted to answer because I knew that if I didn't, I could be reported. Especially if Flippy was psycho. But it didn't sound like it. He wasn't calling me any of his usual pet names, and his voice didn't have the same teasing ring to it. Even so, I didn't answer.
I heard Flippy sigh, and move away from the laundry chute. I felt myself relax, and I stretched out on my mattress once more. It took me another while but gradually, my eyelids grew heavy. I was asleep in a couple of minutes.
I woke early the next morning. Birds were announcing the beginning of the day, and soon afterwards, pale streams of light filled the room. I sat up, and brushed a piece of hair out of my face. I knew it was far too early to be getting up, but I needed something to do, something to keep me awake. I stood up and made my bed, and took my uniform out of the drawer. I shook the creases out and got dressed.
When I opened the door, I was greeted by stony silence. I wasn't surprised to find the cleaning things missing. I walked along the basement and up the stairs. I'd always found it strange that the storage room wasn't kept in the basement. It was on the ground floor, along the main corridor beside the entrance. I made my way as quietly as possible on my tip-toes, avoiding clicking my shoes against the tiles.
I reached the storage room, and took out my things. I went to the dining hall first, and was met with a complete mess. Table cloths were stained with wine, glasses lay knocked over. Someone had attempted stacking the chairs into piles, and had given up by the look of things. Grooves were left where lit cigarettes had been tossed aside. There were ringed stains from people who hadn't used coasters. I'd be busy today.
"Well," I said quietly to myself. "No point standing here looking at it."
I cleared the tables, starting off with the glasses that had been left over. I brought them into the kitchen and laid them out on the counter, then went back to the dining hall. I lifted the vases of flowers that had been so lovely last night, now drooping and withering at the edges, and set them down on the floor. I pulled the table cloth off the first table; then I folded it as best as I could before moving onto the next one.
After a while, I heard the sound of someone moving things around in the kitchen. Madame Talbot, most likely. I folded up the last table cloth, and picked up my sponge and cleaning spray. I'd left my things at the stage. I breezed along the tables, spraying the chemical onto the table. I scrubbed hard at the many stains until they gradually faded away. My arm ached, but I kept going. I looked around for a clock. There was one just above the door. 7:30 am. I kept scrubbing and polishing until my arm felt like it wasn't part of me anymore. But, the tables did look a lot better.
At 8:45 am, I was done. The dining hall was sparkling once more, and everything was back in place. I started off with the rest of the house then. I was about to head downstairs, but I heard a noise behind me. I turned around and realized there was someone knocking at the door. The butler wasn't around, so I put my stuff down and opened the door.
A girl with wavy, purple hair stood in the doorway, glancing around frantically. She was taller than me, and had wide, frightened lilac eyes. She was dressed in a blue jacket and matching trousers, and black shoes. On her head she wore a black cap with the letters 'P' and 'O' in italic. She carried a bag around her shoulder that looked to be stuffed to the brim with paper. Sticking out of the corner of one pocket I could see what looked like... a pickle.
"Are you..?" I realized I didn't know her name, and trailed off.
"I'm Lammy," said the girl, still looking around.
"Didn't you work here?"
"Yes. Is Flippy nearby?" she asked, eyes growing even wider.
"I don't think so," I said, looking over my shoulder.
"Oh... okay," Lammy let out a shaky sigh of relief. She slung her bag from her shoulder and took out a handful of envelopes.
"I work for the post office," she told me as I took them from her. "Our regular is sick, so I'm filling in for today. I don't normally deliver around here. Since, you know..."
"Flippy told me," I said. Lammy nodded.
"Yeah. But, I got a new pickle." She pointed to the one sticking out of her bag. "How long have you been here for?"
I opened my mouth to answer, and then realized I had no idea. I counted the days in my head. It would be seven today, although it felt like months since I'd arrived at the front door in my rags.
"Today, I'll have been here a week," I told Lammy. She raised her eyebrows.
"Really? I stayed for about two nights. How can you stand it?"
"I... I have no idea."
I looked around when I heard footsteps behind me. Lammy gasped from behind me, and moved away from the door. I felt myself stiffen up too. Flippy looked at me carefully. His right eye had a noticeable purple-black bruise framing it. He blinked slowly and then looked over my shoulder. Lammy ducked out of sight, and Flippy continued walking.
"I have to go," said Lammy. "I'll see you some other time, I hope. Good bye."
Lammy ran straight down the garden without a glance back. On her way, her pickle fell from her bag. I hurried after her and picked it up.
"Lammy!" I called. But she was too far gone. I held the pickle in my hand, and then brought it back to my room, under my blanket. Lammy would come back for it sooner or later. Unless she was too afraid. I decided to get back to work.
Later, after eating a dinner of carrots and potatoes, I stretched out on my bed. I was looking at Lammy's pickle. It didn't look to be special in any way. Maybe it was something representative of her childhood?
I remembered I had a toy dog once. My Mother had made it for my fifth birthday. It was stuffed with the little cotton we had at the time. The dog's brown fur was made with part of my Mother's best skirt. His name... I searched through my memories, looking for the dog's name somewhere in there. Trusty. I'd called it Trusty, because my Mother used to say I saw others as untrustworthy. I could trust Trusty, because that's what he was.
I dropped the pickle when I heard a loud screech, and a series of bangs. I remembered what Flippy had told me about his father's hunting. I found myself looking over to the laundry chute. I picked up Lammy's pickle cautiously.
After a couple of seconds, I heard movement upstairs. Flippy was pacing it seemed. But, it was a little too fast to be pacing. And yet, too slow to be running. He was just walking around. I took a look upwards, and saw his black jeans flash by. They stopped abruptly, and Flippy laughed. I moved away from the chute, but too late.
"I can see you, sweetheart," he called. I heard him bend over to kneel at the laundry chute. I didn't say anything, just held the pickle a little tighter. Flippy waited a couple of seconds before speaking again.
"No point hiding," he said. "I can hear you, and I know what you have with you. Lammy paid a visit today, am I right? That's Mr. Pickles your holding. The new one, anyway. Come over here and show me."
I inched back over to the laundry chute, and with a shaking hand, held Mr. Pickles up.
"Hand him up to me, sweetheart. I can't see him properly." Flippy stretched his hand down, holding it open expectantly. I hesitated, and then placed it in his hand. Flippy didn't take his hand away though. I gasped when he clenched his fist suddenly. Juice from the pickle sprayed onto my face. Bits of it hit the sides of the sides of the laundry chute. Flippy laughed, and flicked the remains off his fingers.
"Well, it looks like Mr. Pickles is no more," said Flippy. "Lammy's just going to have to find a new one. Again. Right?"
"I-I... I... She... Y-Yes.."
Flippy laughed again. "You stutter like crazy, you know."
"Y-Yes."
"It's amusing. Now, have I told you about the newest game, darling?"
I shuddered. "N-No."
"Okay then. I'll explain it to you. Children play it sometimes, although they're not great. They call it Mercy. In the game, two people lock their fingers together, and do their best to cause each other pain. The one who calls 'Mercy!' is the loser, and makes the other person the winner.
"But, my game is called No Mercy. We do the same, lock fingers and the rest. But if you beg for mercy, it doesn't matter. This game doesn't stop until I see tears. Do you understand?"
I whimpered, and said, "Y-Yes. I u-understand."
"Excellent," said Flippy, then gestured for my hands. I held them up, and he laced our fingers together.
"On three, begin," said Flippy. "One. Two. Three!"
Immediately, I felt my wrists pushed backwards. I yelped, and tried to push against Flippy, but he was far too strong. He twisted my left arm so the elbow was facing the ceiling in an unnatural angle. I squeezed my eyes shut, and made a feeble attempt at bringing my arms back.
"No way, sweetheart," called Flippy. "We've just started."
Flippy tightened his grip on my right arm, and pushed it away from him so that my fingers were facing the floor. I heard a small crack and made a faint 'ah' sound. Flippy smirked, and pushed a little further.
"Please," I begged, forgetting Flippy's rules. "Please, let go. Please."
"I told you sweetheart," he replied. "I need to see tears."
He twisted my left arm further and I suppressed a scream. I felt tears in my eyes, and I let them fall. Flippy must have seen something, because his grip relaxed and he returned my arms to their normal positions. I breathed in and out shakily, tears falling onto my skirt and trailing down my face.
"You lose, then," said Flippy. "Not that you put up much of a fight anyway. Even so, it was fun. I think I'll let you sleep now. Good night, dear."
Flippy moved away, and I rushed to my bed, crawling in under the covers. I looked at the bits of pickle lying around. It could wait until morning. All I wanted to do right now was sleep.
"I said good night, dear," Flippy called.
I hesitated a moment, but then said, "Good night, Flippy."
A.N. Bit of a weird chapter there! Anyway, I hope you liked it all the same!