Aina entered the bathroom in the servants' quarters, at the very end of the east wing, on the first floor. She closed the door hastily and leaned against it, gasping for breath and shaking hands. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as if it wanted to get out.
A violent nausea shook her, and she suddenly leaned forward, groaning, her palm on her lips.
'It's starting again.'
She had felt it the moment the patriarch had started glaring at her, but she had never thought it would come so quickly. She felt like her stomach was churning all over the place and someone was banging a hammer against her skull.
Grimacing in pain, she raised her head, her eyes blurred with tears and her dark hair falling in front of her like a veil.
'The sink.'
Pushing her agony to the corner of her head, the young woman staggered along the immaculate tiles, in which her pitiful reflection appeared to her. Each step was an ordeal, and she could do nothing but put her hand on her belly, in the vain hope that it would help calm the disorder that shook her frail body.
[Don't do this.] A voice echoed in her head, but she ignored it.
'Again these delusions....'
These things spoke to her from time to time and that always made her suffer so much. Hallucinations that tormented her relentlessly and drove her completely mad.
[Stop... You will...]
" Silence !" she bellowed violently, her voice shaking.
The words continued and what sounded like whispers overlapped, causing a terrifying hubbub that made her want to bang her head against the walls. All these sounds were for her like a multitude of people who would speak close to her ear and whose echoes would reverberate constantly inside her.
'It has to stop....'
The mirror and the faucet weren't far away, but the little meter that separated her from them seemed so long to her that she almost gave up before she got there. She clung with all her strength to the cast iron, the coldness of which spread throughout her body, before sliding all her weight against the edge to avoid staggering.
In the reflection of the mirror, she saw her messy locks stuck against her sweaty skin and her livid eyes, which gave her a cadaverous appearance. She looked particularly bad, like every time her fits happened, but she ignored her monstrous appearance to slide her trembling fingers on the faucet, which she turned with difficulty.
The precious black liquid escaped from it, producing a faint noise that even momentarily drowned out the murmurs of her invaders, and she did not think twice before reaching for the small black vial that she had kept in her uniform.
[Don't take too much of this delicacy miss, it's a powerful product.] She remembered the herbalist's voice, which she chased away almost immediately, nodding her head.
'To hell with his advice.'
She removed the small cork and flipped the vial over her palm. Small red pellets came out, and she did not hesitate for a second to swallow two. It tasted foul, like that of moldy fruit, and was already starting to create a veil of powder in her mouth, so she swallowed a few sips of water to wash it down.
The response was almost instantaneous, and the pain subsided, taking with it all the voices that tormented her earlier. Calm returned almost immediately inside her, and the aftershock of her fit was so powerful that she fell to the ground. Her behind crashed heavily on the tiles, and she was forced to restrain herself with her palm, so as not to spread out completely on the floor of the bathroom. She remained thus motionless for a few seconds, before letting herself slide against the marble.
Her face was wet and her breath jerky, she stared blankly at the white ceiling, feeling every muscle relax.
[A disease whose origin is unknown.]
These were the words the herbalist had said the first time she had visited his shop. A disease without a name and without a remedy, which could only be mitigated by the decoction provided by Sacha Médicis.
'Hallucinations, migraine, nausea and intense fatigue.'
Aina suffered like this whenever a crisis arose. As long as she could remember, this affliction had always accompanied her, like a shadow and even after years, it still made her suffer so much.
She was exhausted from being constantly attacked by her own body and was always waiting around the corner for her improving condition to relapse. This thing was one of the mysteries surrounding her existence, in addition to the violent amnesia that had wiped out her entire person.
Aina didn't know who she was, or how she had ended up in this place. She had lost everything that made her a person and had only been shaped by the memories she had acquired since waking up in the mansion. She was only Aina, the servant of the Signavits, but she didn't know who she had been before.
Did she have family, friends, a lover? She had no idea. Even the name she had inherited was surely not hers. Since that day she was empty, soulless, like a doll.
[Could you go see how the children are doing?]
She sighed, her head in her hands. She had forgotten what the wife had ordered her to do. Right now, she just wanted to lay still and even sleep to ease her discomfort, but she had work to do and so couldn't afford to show off. So she started to get up, ignoring her wobbly legs.
She felt feverish, but ignored the cries for help from her body to slip through the door and into the hallway.