"Wenches like her should be taught a lesson!"
"She's a disgrace to our humble small town, she should be punished! Let's hang her!"
"This is what happens when the mother doesn't properly raise her daughter well. Tsk. Such a shame."
" Burn her. Burn her!" Some chanted
" Let's banish her from this town. She must never set a foot in this town ever again!"
The vicious words echoed from an angry mob, their fury directed at the young woman crumpled on the ground. Her torn blood stained clothes told of the 'justice' inflicted upon her. Her whole body was covered with bruises. She was sitting on the ground hugging her legs tightly, trembling as faint sob sounds escaped from her lips.
Laughter and curses echoed in the air. Some bystanders stood on the sidelines, quietly observing and whispering among themselves, while others shook their heads in sympathy. A few, however, eagerly fanned the flames, believing she had brought this upon herself.
"She's a witch! She came to my home in the pretense of looking for work when she was actually after my husband. Not knowing it, I let her work as my maid and gave her a good salary and how did she repay me? She went to seduce my husband!"
A woman cried hysterically while hugging the arm of a man who appeared reluctant to meet anyone's gaze.
The man's back was drenched with sweat, his eyes darting around suspiciously though the crowd was too fixated on the accused maid to notice.
"My poor husband was put under a curse by that witch!" The woman continued while shedding a few tears. Because of her innocent beauty, many men present were captivated and felt the urge to righteously stand up for this woman and protect her.
"Yes, this witch had bewitched me! Luckily I managed to break free from the curse!" The lady's husband quickly chimed in. He pointed a shaking finger at the maid. "We should not let this witch escape unscathed. We have to hang her!"
The mob surged forward. Someone kicked the girl viciously, sending her sprawling. Another followed with a sharp blow.
"Please stop!" She cried, shielding her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm not a witch. I didn't try to bewitch the master. The master tried to force himself on me and I refused. Please you have to believe me!"
"Shut up!" a man snarled. "Do you expect us to believe those blatant lies? How could an honorable wealthy man like Mr Greenwood stoop so low to desire a filthy servant like you? He could have any woman he wants!"
Amidst the crowd, a young, petite figure in a black cloak observed the commotion with an unfathomable expression. Her face was mostly concealed by her hood but her piercing green eyes glimmered with indifference and unease.
Such scenes were commonplace in this small town, and she was all too aware of how it would conclude. Regardless of whether the maid spoke the truth, she would find herself hanging from the gallows for this crime. People were incredibly biased.
Were witches even real or it was just an excuse to hang innocent people for the crimes they did not commit?
Her green eyes stared at the middle aged man who claimed to have been bewitched. He looked very nervous about something. A look of guilt flashed in his eyes before he quickly steeled his expression.
Mathew Greenwood was a notorious and wealthy man known for his lecherous behavior, particularly towards young girls. He would often harass the maids employed at his mansion, and when his wife discovered his indiscretions, he would deceitfully shift the blame onto the unfortunate maid.
His wife, infamous for her overly possessive nature, went to great lengths to eliminate any woman who dared to come near her husband, making this maid one of the unfortunate victims of their tumultuous relationship.
Clenching her fists, her lips stretched into a thin line. In this cruel world, the strong trampled on the weak and justice was often twisted by those in power. Even if she wanted to help that poor maid, she was powerless. She was no savior. Just a nobody struggling to survive.
Leila heaved out a sigh before walking away resolutely without looking back.
She strolled leisurely while looking around. Four ladies were standing in a corner gossiping. Brokley was just your typical small town.
Criminals lurked in the dark alleys waiting to prey on anyone who appeared affluent, con artists were everywhere ready to swindle innocent unsuspecting people. Then there were the unfortunate people, forgotten and abandoned by the cruel society and ended up living on the streets as beggars fighting to exist.
A carriage clattered by, narrowly missing two children chasing each other. The girl tripped and fell, scraping her knee.
"Are you alright?" Leila rushed over to help the little girl to her feet. "Do you feel hurt anywhere?"
She brushed the dirt off the girl's clothes, and the little one beamed up at her. "I'm okay, miss. You're a good person!"
Leila's lips twitched at the compliment. Was she? Memories of having stolen money and food from strangers just to avoid starvation at a certain time flashed through her mind. Unaware of Leila's inner turmoil, the little girl presented her with a delicate blue flower she had been holding.
Leila crouched down and slowly removed her hood, revealing her small, pale face. "You can put it in my hair."
The girl happily tucked the flower in Leila's hair. "It looks pretty on you."
"Thank you," Leila replied with a genuine smile. The little girl beamed back before dashing off. She stared in the direction the child had run off for a while before heading home.
By the time she reached home, exhaustion weighed heavy on her. When raised her hand to turn the doorknob, the door was suddenly swung open and a drunk middle aged man stumbled out.
"Get out of my way kid," he suddenly shoved Leila roughly, catching her off guard. She stumbled and fell. The man spat at her before he left chuckling.
The young girl clenched her fists and took a deep breath. She wiped off the spit on her face slowly, her expression blank. Standing up, she dusted off the dirt on her clothes before proceeding to go into the house like nothing happened.
The moment she stepped inside, she was greeted by the stench of alcohol making her scrunch up her nose in irritation.
Leila passed by an open doorway, catching a glimpse of the room's interior. "That old bastard! How could he be so stingy?"
A woman was sitting on the bed counting the money in her hand. She muttered something under her breath and coughed. Empty bottles of liquor littered the floor. Looking indifferently at the scene, she continued to walk forward.
"Where do you think you are going?" A hoarse voice came from behind her. Leila stopped in her tracks. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before she spun around.
"I see you don't respect your mother anymore. You have all grown up!" The drunk woman was now standing at the doorway with her arms crossed.
"Mother." Leila said unenthusiastically. She looked blankly at her like she was facing a complete stranger.
"You ungrateful wench!" Rosaline sneered. Staggering closer, she yanked Leila's bag away. "Give me that bag."
She dumped its contents onto the floor.
Leila watched her quietly. The woman looked through her stuff and only found a single penny. She glared at Leila while holding out the penny. "This is all you got? Just one penny?!"
Leila did not speak. "Answer me!" The woman raised her voice in fury.
"Yes," she replied through gritted teeth. This was her own birth mother, Rosaline Williams. She wasn't always like this. She was once a gentle kind woman who loved her dearly and showered her with lots of affection when she was little.
"You little..." Rosaline raised her hand. Leila waited for her to slap her but it did not come. Instead she patted her on the shoulder and said in a low tone, "You need to work harder for the both of us okay?"
Leila lowered her gaze. Rosaline softened her tone unnaturally. "At least this is the only thing you can do for me after all the hard work I did to raise you. For you to grow into such a beautiful lady."
Then she stalked off, cackling like an evil old woman as she tossed the penny in the air and caught it when it fell.
Leila gazed at the silhouette of her back until it vanished completely. Bending down, she gathered her stuff and the bag her mother had thrown down earlie before she trudged to her own room. She threw the bag onto the bed. All she wanted right now was to take a bath and sleep.
Leila ran a hand through her hair in frustration. What did she do to deserve this? Taking off her clothes, she went to take a bath, sighed contendly as the warm water soothed her nerves. After bathing, she slipped into some comfortable clothes.
Standing front of the mirror, she stared at her own reflection. A young petite girl who appeared to be around fourteen reflected. She looked pitifully thin and malnutritioned.
Her actual age in reality was seventeen. Those lifeless and dull green eyes stared back at her, she no longer cared about what would happen to her.
Her life was a living nightmare.
When she closed her eyes, the memories of the day replayed: the mob's cruelty, the drunk man's mockery, her mother's scorn.
Dark thoughts crept into her mind, whispering temptations of vengeance. Her hands were itching to do something. She wanted to vent all her anger, grief. She wanted to... kill. When she realized her thoughts had became bloodthirsty, she shook her head vigorously. "That will never happen," she murmured.
"I know you want to kill that old hag who tortures you everyday." A small tempting voice rang in her mind. "You want to circle your hands around her neck and squeeze the life out of her. Watch her kneel down and beg for her own life. You would be set free from your misery..."
Her nails dug into her flesh, leaving crescent shaped marks but she could not feel any pain. Only the word kill resounded in her mind.
"No. I refuse to become a monster!" With a cry of frustration, she smashed the mirror, shards falling around her, cutting her hand. Blood trickled from her hand but she didn't flinch. Her anger slowly ebbed into despair.
No matter how horribly her mother treated her she was still her mother and she would never ever dream of killing her.
Wiping her hand, a forced smile appeared on her face as she whispered to herself, "It's time to make dinner."