Who are you

As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped out onto the fourth floor, my senses immediately assaulted by the opulence that surrounded me. The corridor stretched out before me, bathed in the soft glow of ornate crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Rich, plush carpets cushioned my every step, while intricate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grandeur and elegance.

The air was suffused with the heady scent of luxury, mingling with the faint aroma of expensive perfumes and fine wines. Every detail spoke of wealth and refinement, from the gilded accents that adorned the doorways to the exquisite floral arrangements that graced the occasional marble-topped table.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as I took in my surroundings. The fourth floor was truly a world apart, a realm of extravagance and indulgence that seemed almost surreal in its beauty.

But amidst the grandeur, I couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. This was no ordinary cleaning assignment; this was the domain of the elite, where even the slightest misstep could spell disaster.

Summoning my resolve, I set off down the corridor, my footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor. Each door loomed before me like a portal to another world, a world of wealth and privilege that seemed almost inaccessible.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the first room, my heart pounding in my chest. With practiced ease, I affixed the small panel with the word "cleaning" on it to the door handle, a silent signal to any guests that the room was being attended to.

Pushing open the door, I stepped inside, my eyes widening at the sight before me. The room was vast, with high ceilings and expansive windows that flooded the space with natural light. Plush furnishings adorned the room, from the sumptuous four-poster bed to the intricately carved armoire that stood against one wall.

Despite the grandeur, there was an air of tranquility that pervaded the space, a sense of serenity that belied the frenetic energy of the world outside.

With a sense of purpose, I set to work, methodically dusting and polishing each surface with care. It was a task that required both precision and attention to detail, and I spared no effort in ensuring that every corner of the room was left immaculate.

As I moved from room to room, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer extravagance that surrounded me. Each room was a testament to wealth and refinement, with luxurious furnishings and elegant décor that spoke of a life lived in luxury.

But amidst the splendor, there were signs of life, small touches that hinted at the presence of the guests who had occupied these rooms. A discarded book on a bedside table, a half-empty glass of champagne on a windowsill – each one a reminder that even the wealthiest among us were not immune to the simple pleasures of everyday life.

As I worked, my mind drifted to thoughts of my own future. With each passing day, the reality of my situation loomed ever larger, the weight of my dreams pressing down upon me like a leaden cloak.

But despite the challenges that lay ahead, I refused to be deterred. With each room I cleaned, I felt a renewed sense of determination, a reminder that every obstacle could be overcome with hard work and perseverance.

And so, I pressed on, my hands moving with practiced efficiency as I tackled the final room on my list. But as I stepped inside, my heart sank at the sight before me.

" Fuck, who did that." 

The room was in disarray, with clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor and shards of glass glittering in the dim light. It was clear that this would be no ordinary cleaning job; this would require all of my skill and determination to set right.

As I meticulously cleaned the room, my focus narrowed to the task at hand. With each careful movement, I ensured that not a single speck of dust remained, my attention divided between the delicate task of cleaning and the need to avoid the sharp fragments of glass scattered across the floor.

As I collected the discarded clothes and deposited them in a basket, I made sure to handle each piece with care, mindful of the potential danger posed by the broken shards of glass. With practiced precision, I navigated the treacherous terrain, my movements fluid and deliberate as I cleared away the debris.

With the floor finally clear of hazards, I turned my attention to the bed, smoothing the sheets with gentle strokes and fluffing the pillows with care. Despite the urgency of my task, I refused to rush, determined to leave no detail overlooked.

But as I glanced around the room, my eyes fell upon a desk nestled in the corner, its surface cluttered with papers and half-finished letters. Instinctively, I reached out to tidy the mess, but then thought better of it.

"No," I whispered to myself, shaking my head. "I shouldn't disturb anything. The guest might have left it that way intentionally."

With a sense of reluctance, I left the desk untouched, a silent testament to my respect for the privacy of the room's occupant. It was a small gesture, but one that felt important in the context of my duties.

With the bed neatly made and the room restored to its former glory, I turned my attention to the bathroom. Like the rest of the room, it was immaculate, a testament to the hotel's commitment to excellence.

As I scrubbed and polished, I lost myself in the rhythm of the task, my mind wandering to thoughts of the future. But my reverie was abruptly shattered when I heard a soft click behind me, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

Startled, I turned to see a shadowy figure standing in the doorway, their features obscured by the dim light. Before I could react, I felt a strong hand grasp my shoulder, pulling me back against the wall with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs.

Heart pounding in my chest, I found myself staring into the barrel of a gun, the cold metal pressing against my temple with an unsettling weight.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded, low and menacing.