Chapter 43 The Weight Of Silence

• Evangelina
• I hear her screams echoing from the dungeon below, piercing through the silence of the mansion like a knife. They reach me even here in my room, where I'm supposed to be healing. But healing from what? Physical pain, perhaps. Emotional scars—those are different. I try to block out the noise, to stop myself from imagining what they're doing to her down there. The maid. The one who led me to the garden that day. Her voice is ragged now, hoarse from the endless hours of torture. They want her to talk, to tell them who sent those men after me. But she won't. Or maybe she doesn't know.
• A part of me wishes there was something I could do. But who am I in this house? A nothing. A plaything. A body to be used, discarded when convenient. My words hold no weight here. I am not seen as human. Not by Aemilio, not by anyone. They wouldn't listen to me even if I tried to speak up. No one would care what I had to say. It's a brutal truth that I've come to accept. Or at least, I've learned to live with it.