Her Endless Misery

6. Rules

For days, I remained trapped in the underground cell, a prisoner in the bowels of the earth.
The darkness surrounded me, suffocating and oppressive, as I struggled to make sense of the nightmare that had become my reality.

The Devil -as I had come to call him-, did not visit me during that time, instead sending his minions with food-barely enough to sustain me through the long, lonely days and nights. I felt like a forgotten soul, abandoned to languish in the depths of despair.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally came to me.
His presence filled the cramped confines of my cell, his eyes cold and calculating as he looked down upon me with disdain.

You are nothing," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt.
"A worthless little orphan, good for nothing but serving others."

As he spoke, he outlined a cruel set of rules that I was expected to follow-rules designed to strip me of my humanity and dignity, to reduce me to nothing more than a mere servant in his twisted world.

"You will speak only when spoken to," he decreed, his words like a death sentence hanging in the air

"You will obey every order without hesitation, no matter how degrading or demeaning or you will suffer the consequences.

As he spoke, I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach, a sickening realization dawning upon me.
I was nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game, a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

But the rules did not end there.
No, they were merely the beginning of my descent into servitude and humiliation.

I was forbidden from making eye contact with anyone deemed superior to me, forced to bow my head in submission whenever they passed by.

And then there were the tasks assigned to me-the filthiest chores that no one else wanted to do.
Cleaning filthy bathrooms, scrubbing floors until my hands were raw and bleeding-it was a relentless cycle of degradation that left me feeling more like an animal than a human being.

But perhaps the most degrading aspect of my new life was the intentional humiliation inflicted upon me by the servants and guards alike.
They sneered and jeered at me, mocking my every move with thinly veiled contempt.

But even as I labored under the weight of his oppressive rule, I could not shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air.
The palace to which I had been moved was vast and imposing, its corridors echoing with the sound of whispered conversations and the clinking of glasses.

Men in suits roamed the halls like vultures, their eyes cold and calculating as they regarded me with thinly veiled contempt.
I felt like prey, surrounded by predators who were only biding their time, waiting for the moment to strike.

I was provided with a maid uniform, a sharp reminder of my new station in life, along with a minimum amount of toiletries to maintain some semblance of cleanliness.
But even as I washed away the grime of the day, I could not escape the feeling of dirt that seemed to cling to my skin, a constant reminder of my own degradation.

And then there were the beatings-the brutal, merciless beatings that came whenever I dared to step out of line.

One of the guards a brute called Jaryd took particular pleasure in tormenting me, his eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he delivered vicious beatings, his fists raining down upon me with a brutality and a fury that seemed to know no bounds.
He always left me battered with broken ribs.

But even as I lay bruised and bloodied on the cold, hard ground, I remembered mom, her smile, her hug.

It made me refuse to surrender to despair.
I clung to the flicker of defiance that burned within me, determined to survive against all odds.
I refused to let him break me. For even in the darkest of times, there is still a glimmer of hope, a beacon of light that refuses to be extinguished, or that was what I believed.