Chapter 1: Alone

Mila's lifeless form was ruthlessly dragged across the forest floor, the stranger's cruel grip entwined in her hair.

Each inch of her delicate frame scraped against the unforgiving ground, leaving behind a trail marked by dirt and fallen leaves.

Her anguished cries pierced the desolate air, echoing through the eerie silence of the surrounding woods.

"Please, stop!! It hurts!" she pleaded, desperation and pain evident in her voice.

But the stranger remained indifferent, her sadistic pleasure gleaming in her eyes as she tightened her hold on her hair.

The trees, silent witnesses to the unfolding horror, seemed to murmur their own desperate pleas for mercy.

Forcing Mila into a puddle of rainwater, the stranger subjected her to an icy shock. Her trembling body, now drenched and chilled, shivered from the cold assault.

The sadistic laughter of the stranger melded with the haunting symphony of nature's cries for help.

"You should wash up, btch! You fcking stink!" the stranger sneered with disgust, turning away as if assured she couldn't escape.

Though thoughts of escape flickered in Mila's mind, her abused body betrayed her.

Every attempt to move sent waves of pain, rendering escape an impossible dream in her weakened state.

Unable to contain her suffering, Mila longed to cry, but even tears seemed like a painful luxury.

Attempting to rise with the support of her hands, she noticed her reflection in the rainwater—a visage that was not her own.

The stranger's battered face stared back, marked by fresh bruises and filled with fear and despair.

Tangled knots of disheveled hair framed the anguish etched across the reflection's features, evidence of a brutal struggle.

Mila's heart sank as the harsh reality settled in—the battered face was hers, a stark reflection of the brutality she had endured.

As she tried to tame her tangled hair, the water mirrored her futile attempts, leaving no room for denial.

"T-this is not my face," she whispered under her breath.

The realization of her own physical transformation sent shivers down Mila's spine.

"T-this is not my face," she repeated as if trying to comfort herself.

Before she can even recover from her demise, Mila suddenly feels a splash of cold water coming from her back, sending shivers to every part of her body.

The impact of the water put her fragile body in pain, and the fresh wounds on her back stung with each movement.

As she turned to see who had attacked her, she was met with a sinister smile and a glint of malice in their eyes.

It was none other than the ginger-headed stranger.

"What are you looking at?!" the stranger shouted at her.

Mila's heart raced as fear gripped her, but she managed to muster the courage to respond, "Why did you do this to me?"

The stranger's malicious grin widened, and they replied with a chilling tone, "Consider it a taste of what's to come."

"Get up!"

Mila struggled to respond as the stranger roughly seized her arm, yanking her to her feet.

Pain shot through her body, but she resolved not to display weakness in front of this sadistic tormentor. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she stood defiant, her eyes burning with a mixture of pain and determination.

The stranger dragged her back to the old wooden cabin and pushed her back onto the wet wooden ground.

"You should change your clothes! You fcking stink and wet!"

Mila's heart pounded as she fought to keep her composure, refusing to let this stranger see her vulnerability.

She clenched her fists, determined to endure whatever was to come, silently vowing to escape this nightmare and reclaim her freedom.

The stranger threw a couple of garments on her and closed the door, leaving her in the darkness of the wooden cabin.

Through much difficulty because of her aching body and the lack of light for her to change, she finally finished changing her clothes, great timing as the door opened once again.

The stranger looked down at her with a scowl on her face.

"You still don't look human!"

The stranger's words cut through her like a knife, intensifying her fear and confusion.

She desperately searched for a response, but her voice failed her, leaving her feeling even more vulnerable in the presence of this menacing figure.

"What are you waiting for?! Get out!"

Mila walked hesitantly out of the wooden cabin and looked at the ginger-headed stranger.

"W-where are you taking me?" Mila stammered, her voice trembling with fear.

The stranger smirked, "Your home."

Mila didn't like the tone of the stranger and felt even more terrified of what came next.

She was once again dragged by the stranger and pushed into a wooden carriage. She then closed the door, leaving her in the darkness once again.

The wooden carriage jolted forward, its movements erratic as it navigated through the dense shadows of the desolate forest.

Mila felt the cold, uneven surface beneath her, and the oppressive darkness within the carriage seemed to amplify her sense of isolation.

Unable to see beyond the confines of the carriage, Mila strained her ears, attempting to glean any information about her destination.

The muffled sounds of the forest outside, accompanied by the occasional creaking of the carriage, created an eerie symphony that heightened her anxiety.

As minutes stretched into an uncertain passage of time, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

The silence that followed was broken only by the distant rustling of leaves and the low growls of an unseen creature.

The door creaked open, revealing the ginger-headed stranger, their sinister smile now illuminated by an otherworldly glow.

Mila hesitated, fear gripping her once again.

"Step out," the stranger commanded, their voice carrying a cold authority.

Mila roamed her eyes around the place, trying to study her surroundings.

"Follow me!"

Reluctantly, she trailed behind the stranger, her gaze continually wandering to her surroundings.

The looming trees cast elongated shadows, and the atmosphere was laced with an eerie tension that sent shivers down her spine.

As they reached the back door of the estate, Mila's ears caught the faint hum of activity—the sounds of people going about their tasks. A flicker of hope ignited within her—a chance for escape, a call for help.

The arrival didn't go unnoticed. A servant, busy with her duties, glanced in their direction, and recognition painted a smile on her face.

"Jessy, long time no see! I haven't seen you for a while. Did you enjoy your vacation?" the servant inquired, the words dripping with sarcasm.

The ginger-headed stranger, referred to as Jessy, scowled at the servant's mocking tone. "Vacation, my foot! How can I enjoy being in that disgusting place?!" Jessy retorted, bitterness lacing each word.

Mila seized the opportunity, her mind racing for a plan.

The mention of a vacation and the casual interaction between Jessy and the servant hinted at a deeper connection, a potential vulnerability she could exploit.

As Mila cautiously retreated toward the entrance, each step a careful maneuver, she suddenly felt a solid thud against her back. Startled, she spun around to find herself face-to-face with a tall, imposing figure—a fellow female servant.

"What are you trying to do?" the servant inquired, a smirk playing on her lips.

Mila's heart raced, caught off guard by the unexpected confrontation. "I...I was just...looking for the bathroom," she stammered, her mind scrambling to concoct a believable excuse.

The servant's smirk widened, suspicion glinting in her narrowed eyes. Ignoring Mila's feeble explanation, she turned her attention to the ginger-headed Jessy.

"Jessy, you should look after your princess!"

Jessy, standing nearby with a perpetual scowl, shot a disdainful look in their direction. "Princess, my foot! Does she look like a princess?"

Mila's face burned with embarrassment as she struggled to regain her composure.

The room erupted in laughter at Jessy's remarks, amplifying Mila's sense of humiliation.

She wished she could vanish into thin air, escaping the judgmental gazes fixed upon her.

The realization dawned upon Mila—everyone in that room was not on her side.

The laughter, the mockery, and the disdain painted a bleak picture of her situation.

As the echoes of mirth lingered in the air, Mila's hope for allies dwindled, leaving her acutely aware of the precariousness of her position on this mysterious estate.