The Beast

1

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. HAZEL ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

"Did you dust the shelves yet?"

I snap out of my daze and turn to my mom. She stands by the entrance with her arms crossed, and taps a foot impatiently.

I slide off my chair and straighten my white apron. "Almost done."

"Hurry. You need to join the others to prepare lunch. And fix your bun."

"Yes, ma'am," I reply, already reaching for my auburn hair to tuck the wayward strands.

She scans me one last time before walking away. She can tell that I've been more distracted than usual.

The duster rests untouched on the table. Truthfully, I haven't dusted a single shelf today. There's no need to. There's not a single speck of dust in this room. I know because I dusted it yesterday and the day before that. For the past three years, I've been repeating the same tasks. I've grown tired of the numbing rituals, my black and white maid dress, and the dimmed hallway lights in this mansion of mystery.

I've been at the belly of this mansion for ten years, locked away from the world. I still remember the war. My mother and I were lucky to be taken into the mansion along with other servants, but it has been ten long years, and the older I got, the more my questions festered.

I think that's why my mom assigned me indoor jobs. To keep me away from the walls that I dream of scaling.

The outside keeps calling my name. It's time to see what's past those gray walls. The mansion that was once massive has become tight. I can't escape my mom's gaze or the leering supervisors. Perhaps I would feel more loyalty to this place if there weren't so many secrets; if I knew who we were serving. But I don't even know our master's name. I've never seen his shadow.

With a sigh, I pick up my duster and sweep it over the immaculate shelves. I dread that I'll have to do the same thing again tomorrow.

My eyes remain on the window as I clean. I follow the birds in the sky, wishing I could see what they do. What does the world look like? Why aren't we allowed to leave the estate grounds?

I don't care about the rules anymore.

I'm being reckless, but I've been a meek servant and daughter for too long.

Tomorrow night, I'm executing my plan. I just can't get caught, or I'll be banished.

Once I dust the shelves, I report to the kitchen. Catalina, my close friend, shows up with her apron crooked and her skirt wrinkled.

I chuckle and shake my head as I wash my hands. "Had fun in a supply closet again?" I whisper, and she nudges me with her elbow.

She and her boyfriend have been inseparable since they got together. We're the same age, having entered the mansion together ten years ago. Catalina shares the same curiosity as me. We often spend time speculating what's past the walls. Lately, she has been too starry-eyed while staring at her boyfriend. I'm glad that she's distracted. We've been whispering about hopping the wall, but I've been wary of taking her with me. If we got caught, we would both be banished. I would rather be found alone.

"Why aren't you two working?" Asks Dakota.

She's our supervisor and loves to micromanage. She wants us to be machines, and puts her foot down whenever she suspects we're having fun.

She's a beautiful girl, a bit older than me. Her skirt is navy blue instead of black, displaying her rank. That's another mystery of this estate. No one knows how promotions are decided. Dakota has only been at the estate for five years and already has more seniority than my mother and I.

A few other girls join us, and we get busy. The master is expecting his meal. This kitchen caters only to him. The second, larger kitchen cooks meals for the staff of the estate.

Even the master's appetite is a mystery. The man eats all sorts of cuisines from all cultures. We never know what he's going to request.

We don't know his age, name, or even height. I've heard everything from six feet to seven. His identity is a well-guarded secret, and I'm determined to get a peek.

I've been festering in these questions for ten years. I want to know what became of the world and who I'm serving. Although I'm grateful to have been fed and sheltered, something is calling for me to explore.

I've read every book and entered nearly every room in this mansion. I need more before dying from old age without resolving a single mystery.

I wash and chop the vegetables as Dakota tends to the chicken. We fall into a natural routine. I know to steer clear of her.

Once lunch is served, I take a walk down the garden. I study the mansion's windows. Nearly all the curtains are drawn, and I wonder behind which one the master is hiding.

The Victorian-style mansion has been here for a long time. Even before the war. It's weathered, but bulky and strong. When I think of the master, I picture him as being as old as this house. He must have lived through a lot and have plenty of stories to tell.

Hell, maybe he's a woman. Maybe Dakota is secretly the mistress of the estate and that's why she acts high and mighty. Or maybe the master is a cat. I don't know the first thing about him.

I scan the grey concrete wall one last time. The guard in the watchtower is ending his shift. I've been watching them for so long that I'm familiar with their rotations.

That's how planned my journey. I've been pushing my plan back for the past month, but it's time. Tomorrow, I'm climbing the wall.

— —

Today was a normal day. I slid off my bed and put on my uniform. My roommate Gwen had already left.

I reported to work and dust the same shelves as yesterday. I looked out the same windows, walked the same halls, and washed the same plates.

My anxiety increases with every passing hour. When my mom came to visit me in the library, she could tell something was wrong. I just lied and said I hadn't ironed the dresses I was in charge of. She believed me because I often push back on my duties to finish reading.

I eat dinner with Catalina and Gwen, too distracted to offer much conversation. I excuse myself from the table and go to my room. I take a shower and pace the room.

Should I hop the wall or push my plan back another day?

No. I have to do this tonight.

I'm wearing a t-shirt and long jeans. We're allowed to wear casual clothes after work. Although it's hot, the long denim jeans will protect my legs from scratches.

I've prepared a small satchel with cash, a mirror, a tiny knife I stole from the kitchen, and a flashlight. I have no cellphone—practically no one does. I doubt there are many past the walls.

I leave a note on my bed telling Gwen that I'm going to stay late in the library and to not stay up for me. We're not allowed to walk the halls late Monday through Thursday, but today is Friday and no one will question my presence.

I check the time. It's almost nine. The guards always share a cigarette when they're switching, giving me about a minute to run for the wall. Sneaking back home will be another challenge.

I duck my head as I step outside, gripping my satchel and counting my steps.

Tonight will either be the best or worst night of my life.