She hurried down the hall, her slippers sliding on the floor as she turned the corner.

She was late, and when they were late, there was punishment to be dealt. Pushing open the door, she skidded to a stop, all eyes on her as she walked into the room as if she weren’t late at all.

“I told you she was going to be late.”

“Why does she think she’s special? She’s no different than the lot of us.”

She held her head up high as she walked past, taking her seat at the end of the long bench, tucking her hands in her lap.

She didn’t think she was special at all. What did they see that she didn’t? She was treated the same—rather, she was treated worse than the rest of them. She didn’t even have a name.

The side door opened and they all sat up a little straighter as he walked in the room, his billowing robes like black wings floating behind him. He had one for every day of the week, though Sundays were her favorite. On that day he wore pristine white, looking more like their leader and less like the formidable man that he was portraying right now.

As he approached the bench, they all stood dutifully, with the older women behind them, waiting for one of them to step out of line so they could be punished. No one dared move, barely breathing as he started on the far end, inspecting each girl as he did every week. She felt as if they were being evaluated for something, though no one ever told them why he did this inspection or what the outcome was.

But when one girl did not meet his expectations, well, they never saw her again.

She kept her eyes lowered to the floor, attempting to watch from the corner of her eye as he moved slowly down the line, muttering comments too softly to hear to his advisor that followed him everywhere.

From memory, she knew of his tall, lean frame, his hair the color of midnight, with graying at the temples.

She thought of the shrewdness of his gaze as he would look at her face, the brilliance of his blue eyes as they stared at her for a moment.

There was no warmth in those depths, no emotions that would make her think that he saw them as anything other than objects.

His shuffling grew nearer and she felt her heart race with anticipation that this would soon be over and she could go back to her duties, another week gone by that she was still here.

They were not allowed to discuss this inspection and if they were overheard doing so, it was a week without food.

No one wished for a week without food.

Finally, his shiny shoes came into view and she ceased to breathe, feeling the coldness of his touch on her chin as he beckoned for her to meet his gaze.

There was always something familiar about his gaze, as if she were looking into a mirror but was unable to understand the reflection. Not that they had similar eyes, no. Hers were a dismayed violet as the others liked to say—but there was something in those depths, a hatred and a longing which didn’t settle well on her.

“Freak,” he said, his words like a whisper. “Who would have thought.”

She wanted to ask what that meant, but again, talking to him without permission was worse than a week without food.

He let out a breath, no emotions on his face as he dropped his hand, regarding her in awkward silence to the point that she wanted to say something just to get a stir out of him.

“What is that?”

She held her breath as he brushed her hair aside, hair that they were required to keep shoulder length and down when they were not performing their duties. She knew what he was talking about and wanted to sink into the floor. Normally she remembered to take it off, but she had been in such a hurry today that she forgot.

Flustered, she watched as his advisor peered at her, a frown on his face. “It’s a necklace, my lord.”

“A necklace,” he repeated, his eyes transfixed on the small silver chain around her neck. “Do we allow them to wear jewelry?”

“N-no,” the advisor announced, reaching in and before she could do anything, ripped the necklace from her neck, the chain biting into her skin as it was pulled free. She watched as the advisor tucked it into his pocket, the last memory of her mother now in the possession of him.

He looked at her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of something even stronger than hatred, if that was possible.

Her heart sunk as he motioned for one of the women to come forward.

“Five days in the room,” he stated firmly. “Anyone that attempts to help her will be cast out.”

“Y-yes my lord,” the woman bobbed her head, gripping her arm so tightly that she knew she would have bruises on it later.

A sinking feeling settled into her stomach as she was escorted out of the room, down the familiar hall that no one wanted to go.

“How could you be so foolish?” the woman seethed as she forced her down the hall. “You know the rules yet you choose to break them, repeatedly. Do you not want to belong?”

“I wanted to belong,” she stated, as she was thrust through a doorway, the smell of dust and wax heavy in the air.

The woman pursed her lips as she stood in the doorway, the key already in her hand. “Perhaps this will be your breaking point then.”

She bowed her head, falling to her knees dutifully as she started to murmur the prayer that she would be forced to repeat for the next five days, wincing as the door shut firmly, the key grating in the lock.

Five days in solitude, with no connection to the outside world. No food, no sunshine, nothing.

It was enough to break one’s spirit, but she refused to bend.

They did not know who she was and what she knew about her life, her existence.

They did not know that she was smarter than she appeared to be.

She did not want to belong.

She wished to be free.