The sweet smell of perfume lingered in my nose day by day. After so much, the smell became more and more outdated in my mind. But certainly not to these men. Every day I watch them as they enter with the biggest smiles of their lives. It makes me wonder what's so fun inside. Every time I'm inside, all I find is a bunch of plates and dishes waiting for me to wash them because if I don't, the Great Nanny will shatter my poor little eardrums of her constant yelling. I swear, every time I happen to pass by, she would reach out her white yet colorful hand towards my face, then pulls it back with a face of regret and hatred.

At these kinds of moments, I began to wonder how one can carry so many bracelets in one wrist without finding it so inconvenient. Actually, I don't understand how she, alongside the other ladies, can wear everything she usually does when we open the shop, from the shiny, sparkling earrings hanging from another set of polished earrings, which are also hanging from another pair of earrings, as they pull and stretch the bottoms of her earlobes. Then, there are also necklaces upon and many more, which I can't count nor see how many are below one another. You add that with every sing ornament from her dress and hair, she looks like a shiny ornament herself. I sometimes wonder if she were to ever step into the sun like that, how blinding her whole outfit would be. But I doubt she would ever do that as its mandate for the other ladies of the shop to avoid the sun at all cost, that we would get fewer customers if they were to do that.

And so, everyone avoids the outside like a pandemic. I say everyone, but someone has to be an exception and scavenge food, water, cosmetics, and other weird shiny objects for the rest of the group.

Right now, I'm making my way back, carrying the usual load behind my back, taking one step at a time. The dripping sweat always seems to pierce its way into my eyes, causing them so much inconvenience; even the sun is not by my side at these instances.

Huff. Huff. What's the point of even carrying all this food? They don't even eat most of it. Most of the time, it somehow ends up on their hair and faces, using it as remedies for an extra healthy glow.

I locate a nearby tree to sit under and can't help and hold my stomach.

~Grumble~

This all because of Angela always tattling on me. There are many times that I wanna punch her smug face of hers; she's about a year younger than me, well that's what everyone tells me as nobody apparently knows my actual age. They keep forgetting and changing it. But recently, the ladies found the easy way out by counting Angela's years and add one more to it, and I'm not ashamed of admitting it, but I also myself using the same method. Even if it's wrong, having a consistent age is better than having people randomly guessing one for me.

But back to Angela, she's a Bitch. She's a very big Bitch or something. To be honest, I don't really know what that word means, but I heard one customer screaming from the top of his lungs at one of the ladies. "What do you mean I'm too broke for you? I didn't even want you, BITCH!

%^$6#....

&#^&...

#$&*!"

I didn't remember nor understood exactly everything else he said after, but...

"Bitch, bitch, bitch."

"BITCH!!!"

"Bitch."

"Bitch, bitchibitch biiiitch..."

And so on one random day, yesterday actually...

While I was forced to go play with Angela, she wanted to play the same game as always. She calls it "Cowgirl," as she overheard one of the ladies describing the game as the most exciting and her favorite one of all. When confronted the ladies for information about

And so there I go. I get on the ground in a crawling position waiting for her to ride my back. Don't get me wrong, I don't think she's fat, nor is anyone fat in the house, as being fat is heavily looked upon, Great Nanny. Because of the reason that Angela is almost a head bigger than me, sometimes I question if I'm actually older than her. Still, Angela is the type of person to cry because she insists that she must be younger than everyone else. And little miss princess keeps getting what she wants.

"Ugh. Angela, you're a bit heavier than yesterday."

Whip!

"Shut up, Zhonzhi. Horses don't talk."

She whips me with a straw rope of some sort, and it doesn't hurt as much, at least not compared to the weight that compresses me against the floor. I have to take a gasp of air every few steps, but I need to push myself knowing the slower I go, the spoiled little princess will whip me.

Whip...

Whip....

Whip. Whip. Whip. Whip! WHIP! WHIP!!! WhipWhipWhipWhipWhip!!!!!!!!!!!!

"I hope you could have mercy on this poor horse and maybe stop..."

WHIP!

"That was my eye! YOU BITCH!"

I threw her off my back, immediately feeling relief from the lack of weight on my back. But when I looked back at Angela, the previous weight was nothing compared to the mountain of trouble I knew I was.

She sat there, furiously looking at me with tears sliding her eyes, which was nothing new nor surprising. It was the trail of red blood flowing down to her to the wrist that made me wanna cry more than her.

And there went my food for the day.