~Elsie's POV
I blinked slowly, adjusting to the way she spoke, the way everything here seemed… structured.
She gave a small nod before continuing, "We would like your permission to assist you with a bath."
For a second, I just stared at her.
A bath?
The words felt strange coming from her, like I was a child who couldn't do things for herself, and my first instinct was to refuse immediately, to tell her that I could handle myself, that I wasn't helpless in the way they all seemed to think I was.
"I can…" I started, my voice coming out slightly hoarse.
But then I stopped.
Because something pulled my attention away from my own words.
I noticed the way the other maids stood behind her, so still and quiet, their hands folded neatly, their eyes lowered but still aware. They weren't curiously looking at me, they weren't even looking at me fully, but there was something about their stillness that felt careful, almost cautious.
Like they were waiting.
Not just for my answer, but for it to be the right one.
And suddenly, the words I had been about to say didn't come out anymore.
Because I wasn't even fully there, my eyes had shifted to my dress.
The white fabric or what used to be white.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at it properly this time, really seeing it, not just feeling it on my body.
The blood stains.
It was dark and dried, and was spread across the fabric in uneven patches that didn't look normal, didn't look like something that could be ignored.
It was the old man's blood.
My fingers tightened around the cloth instantly, gripping it as if I could somehow hide it, like I could erase it if I just held it tight enough. My chest started rising faster, my breathing uneven, and before I knew it, my vision blurred.
I didn't hear them anymore. I didn't hear Clara. I didn't hear the soft voices asking for permission. All I could see was the blood, and all I could feel was it on me.
"No…" I whispered, my voice breaking as I shook my head slowly. "No… no…"
My hands clutched the fabric harder, pulling it slightly like I was trying to tear it away from myself but couldn't, like it was stuck to me, like it wouldn't leave.
Tears slipped down my face without me even noticing at first, hot and fast, and I shook my head again, my voice barely above a whisper. "No…"
I didn't want them to touch me.
I didn't want anyone near me.
Because it felt as if, if they did, they would see everything.
They would see what happened.
They would see me.
And I didn't want that.
Then I felt a soft, gentle, and careful touch; a hand was on my arm.
I flinched slightly, my head snapping up, my breathing uneven as I blinked through my tears.
It was Clara.
Her expression was calm, but there was something softer in her eyes now, something different from before.
"Madam," she said quietly, her voice steady but gentle, "did you hear what I said?"
For a moment, I just stared at her, trying to pull myself back together, trying to understand where I was again, because everything felt like it had shifted too far.
"What… what did you say?" I asked, my voice low and shaky.
She didn't rush me.
"We were asking for your permission to assist you with bathing," she repeated softly.
I swallowed hard, my grip on the dress loosening just slightly as I shook my head.
"No," I said quickly, almost immediately, my voice still unsteady. "I… I will do it myself."
There was a pause.
Then Clara nodded.
"Of course, madam," she said.
I took a small breath, trying to steady myself, and then asked, "Where… where is the bathroom?"
She gestured slightly, and two of the maids stepped forward, not touching me this time, just guiding me gently with their presence.
"This way, madam."
I followed them without saying anything else, my steps unsteady, my fingers still holding onto the dress like I couldn't let go yet.
They led me inside, and the moment I saw the bathroom, I barely registered how big it was, how clean or polished it looked, because none of that mattered right now.
All I wanted was to get this off me.
I stepped inside quickly, and before they could say anything else, I turned and shut the door and locked it. The sound echoed louder than it should have.
And then it was just me. I looked down at the dress again, my breathing picking up as the sight of the dried blood hit me all over again, just as strong as before.
My hands moved fast, almost frantic.
I grabbed at the fabric, pulling it off my body in a rush, my fingers trembling as I struggled with it for a second before it finally slipped away.
I dropped it into the sink without thinking and turned on the tap.
Water rushed out, hitting the cloth, and I grabbed it immediately, scrubbing at it as if my life depended on it.
Like if I cleaned it enough, everything would disappear.
"This has to go… this has to go…" I muttered under my breath, my voice breaking as tears blurred my vision again.
My hands moved faster, pressing the fabric under the water, rubbing hard, too hard, like I didn't even feel it anymore.
The water turned slightly tinted.
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't going away fast enough.
"Go away… please just go away…" I cried softly, my shoulders shaking as I scrubbed harder, my fingers tightening painfully around the cloth.
I didn't know how long I stayed like that.
I kept washing, scrubbing, and crying.
Like if I stopped, everything would come back fully, and I wouldn't be able to handle it.
The water kept running, and my hands kept moving.
For a moment, I didn't even understand what I was seeing.
I had been scrubbing the dress so hard that my fingers were starting to ache, my nails dragging roughly against the fabric, my breathing uneven and broken as I tried to wash it clean, as I tried to erase everything that had happened.
But then I paused.
Because the water, the water wasn't clear anymore.
My breath hitched.
"No… no, no, no…"