The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  Clenching my eyes shut to whatever Hell he’d dragged me to, I refused to look at the truth of this nightmare.

  “Well, that’s one way to deliver the new recruit.”

  A pause, light steps approaching from behind me.

  “Why are her clothes so wet and bloody?”

  There was humor in the man’s voice that only pissed me off more, but that anger bled away with ferocious speed as a veil of fear closed around me.

  “She had a mess to clean up. But now she’s all yours.”

  I flinched as two fingers swept the hair away from my face. Opening my eyes, I was met with amusement in the man’s expression, his lips curling into a knowing grin.

  “Ah, well, in that case, I guess we’ll have to just deal with it.”

  His green eyes locked to mine.

  “Hello, Lisbeth. Welcome to the dungeon. I take it this means the servant’s quarters weren’t up to your standards? Were they too plain for a woman like you? I’m sure we can find something far more interesting for you to do now that you’re back home all safe and sound.”

  He laughed and pushed to his feet, the two men stepping over to the opposite side of the room while I finally took a moment to look at the space around me.

  Fear dripped through my body like a busted tap, a steady trickle that froze within my organs and bones. Eyes wide, I stared at the wall in front of me and tried to make sense of the two women hooked to large wooden structures, their bodies naked and exposed as tears dropped from their eyes.

  They stared down at me in warning. Run! I could hear them scream. Get the fuck out of here while you’re still able.

  But I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but sweep my eyes down the marks on their bodies, the welts blistering red like strap marks over their chests and stomachs. A keening whimper crawled up my throat as the room came into full focus around me.

  There were whips and chains, polished silver ... what the fuck even were those things? I shrank around myself, my arms shaking as if they could protect me from furniture and other devices designed solely for torture.

  Deep voices murmured among the chorus of tears and moans, the two men discussing the terms of my new position.

  “She refused to be a maid, so the only thing left for her is to be a whore...”

  “I didn’t take her to be that stupid, but it is what it is...”

  Bile shot up my throat, two hands brushing together as if someone were wiping my fate from them.

  “Nothing left to do but get on with it. Do me a favor and chain her up. I’ll get my things together for her first introduction.”

  When heavy steps stormed toward me, I pushed up on hands and knees in an attempt to crawl. But I wasn’t fast enough to keep a fist from locking over my ankle to drag me along to a pole in the center of the room, chains clanging against its surface as Callan tugged me up to my feet and slammed my wrists against it above my head.

  “Stop! I’m sorry. Please. I’ll be a maid. Please don’t do this to me!”

  The words spilled out before I could think. I was too terrified to do anything other than react, to submit to anything but this.

  Reduced to a woman who only knew to beg, I pleaded until my voice cracked over sobs, my bandaged feet slipping over the ground as my spine ran the line of that pole. And when I opened my eyes to look at Callan’s face, he stared down at me with a satisfied grin.

  “Please,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  And I was.

  For our childhood.

  For the way I treated him.

  For the insults, the laughter and the taunts.

  I was sorry for all of it in that moment, but I wasn’t sure he knew what the apology was for.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said again as tears dripped along my jaw.

  The other man stepped into view, his eyes sharp and discerning.

  “It’s sweet when they beg, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard one apologize. Not this soon, at least.”

  Fuck him, I thought, my eyes cutting back to Callan where he stared at me with an unreadable expression.

  It was pathetic how weak my voice had become.

  “I’ll do anything. I swear. Just not this. Anything but this.”

  One hand still locked around my wrists, he watched me for several seconds before peeling each finger away slowly and letting my arms go. The entire room went silent except for the women still quietly crying.

  Stepping aside, Callan waited for me to do something, his brow arching in question when I didn’t immediately know to move.

  Thankful for the reprieve and change of heart, I kept my head bowed as I limped away from that room, his footsteps a drumbeat following me as we wound the halls and returned upstairs, a silent predator at my back until I was safely tucked away in my small room.

  I sat on the bed and rubbed at the skin of my wrists, my head angling up to watch him through the curtain of my hair.

  Without a single word, this man had broken my will so easily.

  Without one insult.

  Without one spoken threat.

  I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted him to talk to me if this is what he could do in silence.

  Callan left the room a moment later, the lock clicking into place with the snap of triumph and finality.

  My body broke into sobs a second later as I lay down and buried my face into the scratchy blanket of the bed.

  I wasn’t sure what the Rose mansion had become. I only knew that over the past ten years, my gilded cage had become something darker.

  Lisbeth

  There’s no telling how I slept that night. Maybe it was exhaustion from trauma and crying. Or maybe I’d worn myself out with the pathetic fight I’d put up against a man I had no hope of defeating.

  For whatever reason, I passed out not long after Callan locked me in this room the final time, waking to my nightgown being dry again, the white silk stained pink with blood.

  He’d used me as a human mop.

  A mop.

  Of all the indignities he could toss at me, that one hadn’t been a consideration. Not in my mind, at least.

  Who uses another person as a cleaning tool? A psychopath, that’s who. Someone who cares little about the world around him and only knows how to hurt and maim to get what he wants.

  If that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d introduced me to the seedy underbelly of the mansion, had given me a glimpse of a dungeon I didn’t want to think about because it only made me scared for those poor women chained up and abused.

  Were they abducted? Was Callan trafficking women to keep the family afloat?

  What would my father think if he were alive today to see what had been done to the family name? He’d put a bullet in Callan’s head and bury him six feet under. That’s what.

  It was too bad I couldn’t do the same.

  Still, despite all that, my dreams (or should I call them nightmares?) were filled with whiskey eyes and a deep voice. Except in my mind, he had been talking to me instead of about me like I was some object that didn’t have thoughts or feelings. He had been whispering dirty words that sent chills down my spine and forced heat to bloom between my thighs.

  My skin had burned in those dreams, every place he’d touched set aflame. My heart stopped to see the line of muscle in his bunched biceps, only to sputter to life with a painful thump when I understood the sheer strength of Callan.

  He’d picked me up like I weighed nothing, like I was a throw pillow you’d fluff before tossing on the couch.

  How could I possibly fight against that?

  Callan’s brand of violence had a seductive undercurrent that stole the breath from my lungs. It had happened so fast that I didn’t consciously take note of all the details, but something deep inside me remembered.

  Like the scent of him that I couldn’t escape, a deep musk that was a mix of exotic lands and foreign spice. I felt wrapped in its temptation while fear crawled in my belly. But that didn’t matter because, as my mind recalled the no
tes of his scent, my mouth went dry, my body becoming so painfully tight that I needed his touch to unlock it.

  Callan was no longer a whipping boy happy to take my abuse. He’d changed in ways I couldn’t wrap my head around, had been born again in devious ways while I wasn’t looking.

  He’d become a force of nature I couldn’t hope to survive.

  Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  My brain was a fucking traitor, apparently. Just like the rest of my family who were selling me off or welcoming me home with open arms while lies slid off their forked tongues.

  Why had I come back to this place? What the hell had I been thinking?

  The door popped open as I sat there despising myself, and I lifted my head at the familiar sound of clicking shoes. Gretchen rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, her perma-scowl in place.

  “You should be in uniform, Miss Rose. Or did you not learn from yesterday?”

  Uniform...Right.

  I glanced around for it, eventually discovering it was balled up in the corner between the mattress and the wall, a small section of it sticking out from under the blanket I’d flipped aside when I woke up.

  Before I could reach for it, Gretchen snatched it up and held the fabric between two disgusted fingers, the white and black dress wrinkled, her scowl deepening as our eyes met.

  “I’m going to assume this was done yesterday during your tantrum. But since we’ve learned our lesson after some rather ugly events...”

  I almost laughed. We as if she’d also been dragged around like a Swiffer by a madman. There was no we. Mr. Clean had used my ass to polish and shine the halls.

  “...you should know there’s a strict dress code expected and enforced on all the staff working for the Rose family. Your uniform is to be crisp and orderly at all times. You will be assigned five uniforms at the beginning of each week. Once used, you will drop them off to be laundered and pressed while being assigned five more.”

  Scowling at the wrinkled dress held between her fingers, Gretchen shook her head.

  “I’ll take this and have a new one brought to you. I’ll also assign one of the staff to show you around and help you learn the job you’re expected to perform. There are rules to be followed, Miss Rose, and if they are ignored, there are consequences. Are we clear?”

  As polished glass, I thought. Glancing around the room, I took in the bare bones furniture consisting of a bed and side table, and the lack of windows. A few cabinets were hung on the walls, but there was no door for a closet or bathroom.

  There was no clock or anything that could indicate the time of day. I assumed by her pissy demeanor that I was supposed to be up and ready to go at a certain hour. That would a problem going forward without some way to know if it was morning.

  “How am I supposed to be up and ready on time if I have no way of knowing what time it is?”

  Her eyes scanned the room, lips pursing.

  “We had some items removed prior to your arrival. Mr. Rose was concerned you’d throw a fit and asked that we take steps to keep as little as possible from being damaged. While you work today, I’ll have them brought back.”

  “And a bathroom?”

  My bladder was screaming at that point, but I wasn’t about to discuss my discomfort with this bitch.

  “It’s down the hall. Our communal facilities offer showers, sinks, toilets, whatever you’ll need. I can walk you there now as long as I can trust you to return to your room once you finish.”

  It was either that or piss myself. Not in the mood for another indignity I’d caused myself, I nodded my head and pushed to my feet.

  Gretchen led me into the hall, a bustle of activity occurring around us as staff members departed their rooms in their pressed uniforms and ran off to start their day.

  I was left at the door to the restrooms, given one last warning glance before Gretchen walked off with her clicking shoes. I took my time tending to my business before returning to my room.

  Walking through the doorway, I turned to find the same maid that had been in my suite yesterday morning. She was laying out a new uniform consisting of a dress, white apron and shoes.

  Glancing up, she startled to find me staring at her.

  “Oh, I apologize, Miss Rose. Gretchen asked that I show you around today and bring you some fresh clothes.”

  Despite everything that happened, I still owed her an apology.

  She was a skittish woman, my age or maybe a few years younger, the type who would race off like a mouse at any sudden noise. Her blond hair was swept back from her face into a high bun, and her big blue eyes were locked on me expecting...who knows? For me to yell again?

  What good would it do?

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. It was rude of me.”

  “It’s fine,” she said quietly, her eyes dancing away to glance around the room. I suspected she was uncomfortable looking at me. “I’ll wait in the hall while you get dressed.”

  I stepped aside to let her pass, the door closing behind her without need for the lock.

  Almost laughing at the ridiculous turn my life had taken, I guessed I was well and truly shown my place.

  With a heavy sigh, I got dressed in the black, knee length dress with white cuffs on the sleeves and a white collar. I tied the apron around my waist and slipped my feet into the shoes. The bandages made it a tight fit, but it didn’t really matter.

  Nothing did. Not in this place.

  The maid was waiting for me outside my door, her lips pulling into a quick, nervous grin before she extended a hand to lead me down the hall.

  “Prior to work, the staff are given breakfast. That’s where we’re headed now.”

  My stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and I was surprised they hadn’t slid in a tray of slop for me to eat this morning given the circumstances of my forced employment.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, figuring I might as well get to know the person showing me the ropes.

  “I’m Holly, Miss Rose-“

  “Lisbeth,” I corrected her. “I don’t want to be reminded of my family name at the moment, so just call me Lisbeth.”

  Her eyes widened, but then she relaxed again as we walked along. Several seconds passed before she spoke with a hushed voice.

  “They’re really not that bad. The Roses. I thought so when I first started working here a month ago. I was terrified, really, of Mr. Rose especially, he’s-“

  “A monster?”

  Head snapping my direction, her cheeks blushed pink.

  “No. He’s...intimidating, yes, but also kind.”

  Cheeks blushing a deeper red, Holly obviously had other thoughts about Callan, but she wasn’t going to say anything. The look on her face said it all, and she didn’t need to speak a word for me to know she had quite the crush.

  I couldn’t blame her. Despite the fact Callan was psycho, I couldn’t deny he was a sight for the eyes.

  We turned a corner and strolled into a large dining hall I’d never seen in all the years I’d lived here as a child. A breakfast bar was set up to the side of the room, several tables lined up throughout. Only a few staff members remained, a low din of conversation filling the room while they finished their meals.

  To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Holly must have noticed it in my expression.

  “We’re treated very well here. As long as you keep to your work and do a good job, you’ll stay in their good graces.”

  I grabbed a plate as we stepped up to the breakfast bar and was busy spooning eggs onto it while Holly continued talking.

  “Some assignments are better than others, obviously. Often, we’re rotated week to week, and you’ll want to do your best so that you remain in the mansion.”

  My brows lifted at that. “Where else is there?”

  Turning her head to ensure nobody was close by, she lowered her voice and stepped close enough to me that our shoulders were brushing.

  “Don’t repeat this, but y
ou never want to be assigned the lower levels of the mansion or the pit. The cleanup in those areas is...disturbing. Gretchen or Edward will assign people there if they’ve slacked off or are in line to be let go from their jobs.”

  I stopped in place, glanced at her.

  “What is going on in the lower levels? And what the hell is the pit?”

  Eyes rounding, she turned to look behind us, her gaze returning to me. “We don’t ask questions, Miss Rose.”

  “Lisbeth,” I reminded her.

  “Right, well, again, we don’t ask questions or even discuss it amongst ourselves. If you’re overheard, they will reprimand you.”

  A shiver chased down my spine, memories of those crying women and the angry, red marks across their bodies. Judging by the way Holly said the pit as if it were worse than the lower levels, I didn’t want to begin to imagine what it was.

  “Where will we be today?”

  We moved along again, our plates filled as we walked to a table. Holly waited until we were seated before answering, “The gym and other athletic facilities. It’s not the best assignment, but not the worst either. If you do well there, they’ll allow you to learn other areas of the mansion such as the first floor, and second floor guest rooms.”

  While she was obviously excited by that prospect, I couldn’t summon the same level of enthusiasm.

  I was a Rose, not that I wanted to acknowledge it at the moment. I shouldn’t be scrubbing and cleaning. Not in my own home. Yet, here I was.

  “Let’s just eat and get to work,” I suggested.

  Holly didn’t say another word. I had to force food into my mouth and fight to swallow.

  With the way my stomach twisted at the thought of what Callan had done to me, there were no guarantees I wouldn’t end up vomiting before the day was over.

  Callan

  Sleep was an elusive bitch that night. After dragging Lisbeth around like a fucking mop and then introducing her to the horrors of the lower floors, I’d returned to my room to take a shower and climb into bed.

  I couldn’t accomplish more than tossing and turning, a few minutes of sleep interrupting the constant thrash of my legs or snap of the sheet across my body when I tugged it in place only to throw it off an hour later, the room too hot or too cold.