So this is my new home.
The Smith mansion loomed ahead, massive and intimidating, its white pillars gleaming in the sunlight. I have to be brave. I have to survive. My small hands clutched the strap of the tiny bag I carried, the only belongings I had left.
"You'll see, Fiona, this is your new life," I whispered to myself, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Your past is behind you… or at least it should be.
As we stepped inside, I saw him first. Liam. Twelve years older than me, tall, striking, his eyes sharp and cold as winter. They swept over me like a blade. My stomach twisted. He is danger. I can feel it. Stay small, stay invisible.
And then… John. Five years older, softer features, a smile that almost reached his eyes. A flicker of warmth. My chest clenched. I wanted to trust him, but my instincts whispered caution. He may be kind, but everyone in this house has rules I don't know.
Mrs. Smith led me to my new room, showing me the bed, the closet, the bare walls. It's beautiful. Too beautiful. And I'm the intruder.
"You'll have chores," she said, her tone polite but firm. "Clean the floors, polish the shoes, laundry twice a day."
I nodded silently. Of course. I expected nothing less. I am nothing here. I must be nothing.
Liam's eyes followed me as I unpacked the small bag. He's already judging me. He already knows I am small. Weak. Powerless.
That night, I lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling. How did I end up here? From the orphanage to this golden cage, and yet… I am still alone.
Days passed, blending into each other. Chores never ended. Floors to scrub, shoes to polish, laundry to fold. A misplaced sock could earn me Liam's wrath.
"Do it properly!" he would bark, and the fear in his voice made my stomach turn. Sometimes, I caught glimpses of his dark gaze lingering too long. Why is he watching me like that?
John, on the other hand, offered quiet encouragement.
"You're doing fine, Fiona. Don't let him get to you." His words were brief, but they became the anchor I clung to amidst the storm. He cares… somehow, he actually cares.
I began to notice patterns. Liam punished me when I smiled too freely, when I spoke too loudly, or when John gave me a kind glance. It was as if he hated seeing me happy, hated seeing any affection I might receive. I must not give him reasons. I must be nothing. Invisible.
One evening, after a particularly harsh scolding, I sat in my room and whispered to myself:
"I am stronger than this. I have survived worse. I will not break. Not now. Not ever."
I thought back to the orphanage—Robin, sharing his sandwich with me; the other children, teaching me kindness and courage; even the cold, harsh hallways that had been my playground for survival. I can survive this too.
But as the days stretched into weeks, I realized survival alone was not enough. I need a plan. I need a way out. And I will find it, one day.
Despite Liam's cruelty, small moments of warmth from John shone like tiny candles in the dark. A hand on my shoulder when he thought I wasn't looking, a whispered "don't worry," when Liam's glare burned across the room.
I felt something stir inside me. Affection? Gratitude? Something I've never allowed myself to feel for anyone but my grandfather and… maybe Robin.
Yet every night, Liam's shadow loomed in my dreams—cold, relentless, demanding control. I hated him. I feared him. And somewhere, deep inside, I felt the first flickers of fear mixed with a strange, dangerous fascination. Why does he make my chest ache? Why do I feel… something I shouldn't?
As the months passed, my body grew stronger from the constant work, but my spirit bore invisible scars. Every command, every punishment, every cold glance was a chain around my heart.
And still, I told myself: One day, I will leave. One day, I will go to a place where no one can control me. One day, I will find peace.
But that day seemed distant. For now, the Smith mansion was a gilded cage, Liam its shadow, John a flicker of light, and me… just trying to survive.
I pressed my forehead to the cool floor at night, repeating my vow silently:
"I will survive. I will endure. I will rise again. No one will break me—not him, not anyone."
And in that quiet promise, I found the first sparks of defiance. They may have taken my freedom, but they cannot take my spirit.