"In you go," the guard grunted, shoving her roughly towards the opening.
Suzy stumbled forward, catching a glimpse of a small, dusty room before the door slammed shut behind her, plunging her into complete darkness. Panic surged through her. She was alone, locked away in a cold, dark room.
Claustrophobia, a primal fear she thought had left came back and clawed at her throat. She whimpered, her voice lost in the oppressive silence. "No," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "I can’t stay here. I can’t breathe!"
Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled around the small room, her hands outstretched, searching for an escape, just anything. But there was nothing. Just cold, damp stone walls and a thick layer of dust under her feet.
Suddenly, a loud screech echoed through the room, making Suzy jump. A large rat, its eyes gleaming in the faint light, scurried out from a dark corner.
She let out a loud scream. "No," she said, her voice trembling. "No, no, no. I have to get out of here."
But how? The door was locked, the windows were barred, and there was no way she could overpower the burly guards. A wave of despair threatened to engulf her.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced – a childhood prank gone wrong, a locked closet, and the frantic pounding of her heart. She’d calmed herself down then, focused on her breathing, and eventually, she’d remembered there was a latch on the inside of the door.
Taking a deep breath, Suzy closed her eyes and focused on the sound of her own heartbeat. Slowly, the frantic pounding subsided, replaced by a sense of calm determination.
The afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and purple. The oppressive darkness of the storage room felt like an eternity to Suzy. Time seemed to stretch and contort, each minute an agonizing test of her sanity. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, the weight of the enclosed space pressing down on her chest.
But slowly, through sheer force of will, she managed to push back the rising panic.
Suddenly, a small thud from outside the door startled her. Was someone there? Had they come back for her? Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Then, the unmistakable sound of wood scraping against stone. The door creaked open a little , and a sliver of light sliced through the darkness.
"Milady?" A hesitant voice whispered.
Suzy squinted towards the light. It was Doris, her face etched with worry. Relief washed over Suzy, so strong it was almost painful.
"Doris!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. "Oh, thank goodness! How did you get in?"
Doris pushed the door open wider, revealing a small tray held precariously in her trembling hands. "I... I put something in their drinks," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously towards the hallway. "A sleeping draught I found in the apothecary. They’ll be unconscious for a few hours, and when they wake up, they won’t remember anything."
Suzy stared at her, speechless. Doris, the timid, obedient handmaiden, had drugged the guards? It was a daring, reckless move, and a part of Suzy admired her courage.
"You shouldn’t have done that," Suzy said finally, her voice laced with concern. "What if they find out? You’ll be in serious trouble."
Doris shrugged, her expression resolute. "It didn’t matter. I couldn’t leave you here another minute. You looked... you looked terrible."
Suzy winced. She knew she must look like a wreck, her clothes rumpled, her face streaked with tears. But it wasn’t just the physical discomfort. It was the feeling of helplessness, of being trapped in a world gone mad.
Doris set the tray down on a dusty crate and began unwrapping it. There was bread, cheese, a small flask of water, and a bowl filled with cool water and a soft cloth.
"Here," Doris said, picking up the cloth. "Let me clean your back. That whip..." she trailed off, her voice thick with emotion.
Suzy flinched at the mention of the whip. The burning welts on her back were a reminder of Helene’s cruelty. She turned her back to Doris, offering a shaky smile.
"Thank you, Doris," she whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "You’re a lifesaver."
Doris dabbed the cool cloth on Suzy’s wounds, her touch gentle and soothing. "You’re welcome, Milady," she murmured.
A gasp escaped Suzy’s lips as Doris dabbed the cool cloth on a particularly angry-looking welt. The sting of the ointment brought her back to the present, reminding her of the ordeal she’d just endured.
"Does it hurt much, Milady?" Doris asked softly, her voice laced with concern.
Suzy gritted her teeth, forcing a smile. "It’s bearable," she mumbled. "Thank you for... for everything, Doris."
Tears welled up in Doris’s eyes, blurring her vision.
"You truly aren’t Lady Cassandra, are you? Because lady Cassandra hasn’t stood up for herself in years." she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.
Suzy flinched at the sting of the alcohol on her wounds, but her gaze held a quiet honesty. "No, Doris," she said, her voice hoarse. "My name is Suzy. I... I came here by accident."
Doris’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Accident? But how? And Lady Cassandra... where is she?"
Suzy hesitated, unsure how to explain the unexplainable. "There... there was an accident back in my world," she began, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "Someone pushed me into a well, and somehow... I ended up here, in your Lady Cassandra’s body."
Doris’s eyes widened in shock. "An accident? You mean... Lady Cassandra... my Lady is...?" she trailed off, unable to finish the question.
Suzy shrugged, her voice heavy with regret. "I don’t know, Doris. I have no idea what happened to her. But it seems like I’m stuck here now, in her place."
Doris listened intently, her face a mixture of curiosity and fear. As Suzy spoke, a thousand questions bubbled up in her mind, but she held them back, sensing Suzy’s exhaustion.
"So... you’re trapped here?" Doris finally asked, her voice soft with empathy.
Suzy nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "It seems so. I don’t know how to get back, and no one here will believe me. Except you, maybe."
A faint smile touched Doris’s lips. "I believe you, Milady... er, Suzy.
"Thank you, Doris," Suzy whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "That means more to me than you know."
The tension in the cramped storeroom eased slightly as Doris finished cleaning Suzy’s wounds. A fragile trust had begun to bloom between them.
"Tell me about Countess Helene," Suzy said softly, her voice barely a whisper.
Doris, still grappling with the revelation of Suzy’s true identity, hesitated for a moment. "My Countess Helene," she began cautiously, "is Count Edmund’s wife and Lady Cassandra’s... stepmother."
Suzy raised an eyebrow. "Stepmother? But why doesn’t she treat Cassandra... I mean, me... with any kindness?"
Doris sighed, a deep, weary sigh that spoke volumes of unspoken resentment. "There’s a lot to tell you Milady," she said, using the title out of habit but with a hint of hesitation. "Lady Cassandra is... different from Lady Isabella."
"Isabella?" Suzy echoed, the name unfamiliar to her.
"Yes, Milady," Doris explained. "Lady Isabella is the Count’s other daughter. His... Legitimate child, actually. She’s younger than Lady Cassandra but she’s called the first daughter because she’s the legitimate child. She’s the definition of perfection."
A lightbulb flickered on in Suzy’s mind. "So, there’s a half-sister involved? Is that why there’s so much tension?"
Doris nodded grimly. "The truth is," she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "the Count had an affair with Lady Cassandra’s mother after he married Helene. When Lady Cassandra was born, her mother... well, she abandoned her."
Suzy felt a pang of sympathy for the woman she now inhabited. To be abandoned by one’s own mother – it was a wound that ran deep.
"And the Count?" Suzy asked, her voice laced with curiosity. "How does he feel about Cassandra?"
Doris’s expression turned bitter. "The Count... the Count cares more about appearances than anything else. Lady Cassandra was born with... freckles and dimples."
Suzy blinked. Freckles and dimples? Those were hardly deformities! In her world, they were considered cute, charming even.
"Freckles and dimples?" she repeated, her voice filled with disbelief. "But that’s... that’s not a deformity, Doris!"
Doris shook her head sadly. "Not in our world, perhaps. But here, in the eyes of the nobility, anything that deviates from the norm is considered a flaw. And the Count... he despises any reminder of his indiscretion."
A horrifying realization dawned on Suzy. The reason Cassandra’s mother had abandoned her, the reason the Count treated her with such disdain – it all stemmed from these so-called imperfections.
She scoffed. Imperfections? How dare they call freckles and dimples imperfections! It was ridiculous, barbaric even.
"So, Helene..." Suzy murmured, piecing together the puzzle. "She takes it out on Cassandra?"
Doris’s eyes welled up with tears. "From the very beginning. Helene loathes Lady Cassandra. She sees her as a constant reminder of the Count’s infidelity. Helene has treated her with disdain. She forbids her from smiling, as it deepens the dimples, and forces her to wear heavy makeup or a veil to hide the freckles."
Suzy’s heart ached for the woman she was trapped within. To live a life where your own appearance was a source of shame and punishment – it was a kind of cruelty she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
"And what about Count Edmund?" she asked, her voice curious. "What does he say about this maltreatment?"
Doris let out a humorless scoff. "Count Edmund cares only for himself. As long as Lady Cassandra remains unseen and doesn’t cause any trouble, he’s content. He turns a blind eye to Helene’s cruelty, as long as it keeps the peace."
"So," Suzy said finally, her voice barely a whisper, "Cassandra has been treated like this... her entire life?"
Doris nodded sadly, wiping away a stray tear. "Since the day she was born. Countess Helene never accepted her, and Count Edmund... well, he just doesn’t care."
Suzy felt a surge of anger towards both Helene and Count Edmund. Their selfishness and neglect had created a prison for Cassandra, a prison she, Suzy, was now trapped in. No wonder Cassandra, or rather Suzy in Cassandra’s body, was so timid and withdrawn. A lifetime of such treatment would crush anyone’s spirit.
"This is all so messed up," she muttered, her voice heavy with frustration.