(Elira's POV)
Splash.
Cold water hit my face like a fucking slap, and I shot upright with a gasp. "Princesses are sleeping while we're waiting for breakfast," my aunt Malry snapped in her usual angry voice. "Wake your ass up and cook breakfast for us and finish the rest of the damn chores. Do you think we opened an orphanage here so you can sit around doing absolutely nothing?"
She turned and walked out before I could even wipe the water from my eyes.
"Get moving!"
Her footsteps faded down the stairs. I sighed and rubbed my face, pushing my wet hair back. The water dripped down onto the thin mattress beneath me. Room. Well… calling it a room was being generous as hell.
It was really just a storage space on the roof. Old boxes were stacked in one corner, broken furniture in another. The walls were cracked to shit, and the tiny window barely let in any light. But apparently this was where I fucking belonged. I slowly looked around the familiar mess. Dirty walls. Dust everywhere.
My thin mattress on the floor. Everything looked the same as always. But tonight… everything would change. Tonight was my sixteenth birthday. And tonight, I was getting the hell out of this place.
A small smile tugged at my lips at the thought. I had been planning my escape for weeks. I stretched my stiff arms and stood up, folding the blanket on my mattress. Calling it a bed would be a goddamn lie.
It was just a worn-out mattress that had probably been thrown away years ago before ending up here with me. Still, it was mine. I didn't even remember how many years I had lived in this shithole. I've been here since I didn't even know how to talk and walk.
Time kind of blurred together when every day was exactly the same. Oh—and I guess I should mention something important. I'm an orphan.
That lovely woman who just woke me up with a bucket of ice water? Aunt Malry. And her husband downstairs, Uncle Ron. They "adopted" me from the streets when I was little. Everyone in town thought they were so fucking generous. "Such kind people," they said. "Taking in a poor orphan."
Yeah. If only they knew the truth. Because I knew better than anyone that they didn't adopt me out of kindness. They adopted me because free labor is cheaper than hiring help. And if I didn't do the work… Well. Let's just say Uncle Ron had a very quick temper.
A temper that came with fists and worse. I shook the thought away and grabbed some clothes from the small pile in the corner. Most of them were old and torn to pieces, but they were all I had. I picked a beige pair of pants and a loose shirt that had seen better days.
The bathroom upstairs was barely big enough to stand in. The floor tiles were cracked, and the sink leaked constantly. Still, I quickly washed up and changed clothes. After tying my dark hair into a messy bun, I hurried down the stairs.
The house itself wasn't fancy. Just a normal middle-class home with creaky wooden floors and faded walls that had trapped me for years. Aunt Malry and Uncle Ron were already sitting in the living room watching television.
Neither of them looked at me—and thank fucking God for that. I quietly slipped into the kitchen and started making breakfast. Eggs. Bread. Tea. Simple shit. My hands moved automatically after years of practice doing this exact routine.
Soon, footsteps echoed down the hallway. "Good morning, Mom! Good morning, Dad!" Nila. Their precious daughter. "Good morning, dear," Aunt Malry replied immediately in a sweet voice I had never once heard directed at me. "Oh princess, come sit," Uncle Ron added proudly, like she was made of fucking gold.
Princess. Yeah. Right. Don't get me wrong—Nila was pretty. But she also wore so much makeup that her face looked like a decorated cake, and her personality? Let's just say princess wasn't exactly the word I'd choose. Bitch was more accurate.
"Hey, idiot," Uncle Ron suddenly shouted toward the kitchen. "Is breakfast ready yet?!" I flinched slightly but answered quickly. "It's ready, Uncle. I'm just bringing it." I carried the plates to the table and began arranging everything neatly. Eggs. Bread. Tea. Jam.
Once everything was set, they immediately started eating without so much as a glance at me. No "thank you." No "good morning." Nothing. As usual. Before anyone noticed, I quickly grabbed a slice of bread, spread a little jam on it, and took a bottle of water.
That would be my breakfast. That was always my breakfast. I slipped toward the door quietly. Because today I had something important to do.
Today was the last day I would ever live in this godforsaken house. And tonight— I would finally be fucking free.