PINK

12

'Why does the light at the end

keep on running further and further away?'

The three adults walk in the opposite direction to where Iara was heading. She inspects the pile of dirty dishing before her. Slowly, she takes the first dish and starts to scrub with what she could find, steel wool. The cold and hard texture rubs against the plate and her skin as the freezing water spreads across her flesh and the dish; it calms the irritation on her palm caused by the steel.

Dante sits on the cream, rose patterned sofa. The bright light of his phone shines, letting Iara see his sharp features against the dark environment. As she scrubs, she can't help but admire those little sand coloured strands that dangle. It was kind of cute. The plate nearly slips out of her hand but she catches it just in time. Clean, she dries it and lightly places it back in the cupboard.

This task went on for a few minutes. Wash, dry, stack, repeat. It was monotonous work. Iara became bored. She wanders what they could be doing to Dante's room if it took this long.

"Do you know what they are doing?" She asks, out of the blue. It shocks both Iara and Dante alike.

He looks up, silver eyes accentuated by the screen's glow. He shakes his head lightly, but seems hesitant. He feels a sense of need, to protect Iara from the truth.

"Oh." She replies simply, as her hands continue to scrape the dried bits of meat off the white plate. The steel wool proves too much for Iara's already weakened skin. She drops the wool, and turns her hand around, palm facing her. It's red raw, like a gang war, the pink side is slowly taking over the territory of the white skin.

"Hey?" She was going to address Dante by his name, but when she thought about it, it made her feel nervous.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have anything other than steel wool to clean with?" She asks, now feeling a pang of guilt for her own poor hand. The water only made it sting more and that is not helpful when washing dishes.

He gets up from the sofa. Iara notices the ease in which Dante lifts himself up from his sedentary position. He walks over to where she is, Iara just stands, feeling a little useless. She was hired to work for the family, not have the family work for her. Iara feels scared, she knows Stephen wants her to be doing something, she can't even wash dishes or upkeep responsibilities, she always needs help; though she was the help.

"Sorry, I don't know. I can do it myself, it's okay." She dismisses Dante and searches through various cupboards and drawers.

"Nah, I got it." He chuckles lightly whilst holding in his hand a purple dish sponge.

"That looks a lot more comfortable than that." Iara claims, pointing to the resting steel wool. She looks back at him and feels a foreign feeling bloom just under her rib cage. She notices how low his sleeves are drawn, right up to the thumb knuckle.

"Thank you." She smiles and goes back to washing. Dante comes up behind her, she knows from the light reflection of the huge window before her. Of course, this window has a black screen, Iara just notices this. At first she thought it was the night sky.

Iara was not thinking, about anything but this moment and realisation. She stares down at her red raw hand.

"Why are the windows barred with screens? Mine is white, I couldn't help noticing your room, if it even is yours." Iara stops when she feels Dante squeezing her arm.

"What?" She turns around and sees Stephen, Addy and Sanny open-mouthed and cross armed. Iara feels everything slow down her heart pulsing hard, she was sure they could hear her stressed organ.

"Your room is done Dante. Luckily I chose the right one. Go now!" He yells, aggressively pointing in the direction towards the room. Iara has never seen such livid energy used to direct someone somewhere, it scares her tremendously. Dante, with his hand still around Iara's wrist, squeezes it before walking away head down in shame. But what was there to be shameful about?

"Do you want me to change your room too?" Iara feels pressure start to build in her mind, she could literally feel the cloud of weight making her skull its own.

"No, I-I think it's fi-" She stammers before Stephen walks up to her and points his dirty finger right in her face.

"If I see you and Dante communicating! In anyway, unless instructed by one of us." He pauses and points at both Addy and Sanny.

"I will make sure no one ever hires you again. Got it?" His eyes which are now bloodshot stare directly into hers. She feels immobilised by the amount of violence this man can emit.

"Yes Sir." Iara mutters sheepishly. He then storms away as do Addy and Sanny. Iara just stands there though, not knowing what to do to please him. It's not that she wants to please him, she just doesn't want to get scolded. Stephen peeks around the corner again, throws his hands up in the air and guffaws.

"I don't pay you to stand there, clean the fucking dishes!" He then curses under his breath as he walks away back to his bedroom.

Iara suddenly feels the urge to leave. This place isn't for her. She wanted a nice family who appreciated her and her help, but this is the opposite. Braden pops into her mind. He may have treated her badly but he would always apologise afterwards and maybe Iara misses that, maybe that's why she fell for him in the first place.

The dirty dishes wait for her. They want to be cleansed of the flesh that sits upon them, they know that after some dutiful human washes them, they are a new and improved version of themselves. Beautiful and sparkling once again, free from weight of food. But after a while, they get used, are dirty then cleaned. Plates are stuck in an endless loop that will only cease when the plate is broken.

Iara is that dutiful human.