The guard doesn’t move, but he watches me like I’m already halfway to the floor.
“I’ll—I’ll do it,” I whisper.
“Good girl.”
She turns to him with a nod. “Out.”
He leaves without a sound.
The moment the door clicks shut, the air shifts. I let myself exhale.
“Step down now,” the woman says. “No need to act like a bird in a storm.”
I obey. Not because I trust her. Because I don’t know what else to do.
She leads me to a panel at the far wall. I hadn’t noticed it earlier—blended into the paint, no visible seams. She presses a button. A door sighs open.
It’s a bathroom.
No. It’s a sanctuary.
Cream-colored porcelain. Inset golden lights. Heated floors. A tub the size of a small pool sunk into the marble like a sacred relic. The steam is already curling at the edges, like it’s been waiting for me.
My jaw tightens.
“Your eyes could pop out their sockets, child,” the woman says, chuckling. “Now get in.”
My eyes stay fixed on the tub. Steam curls from the surface like it’s breathing.
This isn’t real.
It can’t be.
But the marble is warm beneath my feet. The humidity curls my hair at the edges. The ache in my arms is real.
My fingers twitch.
I reach down slowly and pull my top over my head.
I peel it off my skin, damp with sweat, sticky under the arms. It drops to the floor with a whisper.
I don’t look at the woman, but I can feel her watching me. I step into the tub.
The heat swallows my calves first, then my thighs. By the time I sink fully beneath the water, it’s like I’ve slipped into someone else’s skin.
My chest hitches. I try to calm it. The water smells like rose and lemon. There’s nothing safe about this.
The woman hands me the soap without a word.
I take it.
“Where is this?” I ask, voice shaking. “Where am I?”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walks over to the vanity and begins sorting folded towels like we’re just… two women sharing space.
I glance down at the soap. My fingers are trembling.
The old woman sighs.