The door to their room creaked open, breaking the heavy silence that had enveloped Mila and Clara. In walked Lydia, accompanied by a couple of guards, their stern expressions revealing the gravity of the situation. The air in the room shifted as anxiety and tension hung thick.
Lydia, holding a stack of papers, wore an unreadable expression as her eyes met Mila and Clara. The guards flanked her, their presence adding an ominous weight to the atmosphere. Mila and Clara exchanged uneasy glances, bracing themselves for whatever news Lydia was about to deliver.
With a calculated calmness, Lydia began, "After an exhaustive investigation, evidence has been found pointing to Mila as the primary culprit and Clara as an accomplice due to her protection of Mila." She unfolded the papers, revealing what seemed to be a hastily compiled dossier.
Mila's heart raced, her eyes widening in disbelief. Clara, beside her, maintained a stoic facade, but her grip on the edge of the bed betrayed the underlying tension.
Lydia continued, "The mistress of the house has made a final verdict. For the crimes of theft and deceit, both of you will be subjected to corporal punishment in the form of whipping."
The weight of the proclamation hung heavily in the room, and the severity of the punishment sent a shiver through Mila and Clara. The mistress of the house, absent from the room, had seemingly delegated this harsh decision to Lydia.
"But we didn't steal anything!" Mila protested, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration. Clara, though maintaining her composure, shot a defiant look at Lydia.
Lydia, unmoved by their protests, declared, "The evidence speaks for itself. The mistress has made her decision, and it will be carried out."
As the guards prepared to escort Mila and Clara to their impending punishment, the room felt like a prison closing in on them. The absence of the mistress, the one who held the final authority, left an unsettling void in the proceedings.
Mila and Clara, their pleas falling on deaf ears, were led away from their shared room, leaving behind a space that had become both a sanctuary and a witness to their shared ordeal.
The news of the final verdict spread like wildfire through the estate, carrying on hushed whispers and worried glances. Servants from all corners shared the shocking development, their faces reflecting a mixture of disbelief and concern. The air buzzed with an undercurrent of unrest as the word of Mila and Clara's impending punishment circulated.
Mila and Clara, their protests echoing through the hallways, were led through the estate. The somber procession of guards and the accused servants drew the attention of their peers, who peered out from their tasks with a mixture of curiosity and fear. The routine of the estate had been disrupted by the weight of the impending punishment, and a cloud of uncertainty hung over the once-familiar corridors.
As they reached the back of the estate, where the punishment was to be carried out, a sense of foreboding settled over Mila and Clara. The normally bustling areas now stood witness to a solemn gathering, with servants casting glances at each other and sharing unspoken concerns about the fate that awaited their fellow companions.
The courtyard, usually a place of brief respite and connection, now felt like a stark arena of judgment. The guards positioned Mila and Clara in the designated area, their hands bound and their faces strained with anxiety. The atmosphere was charged with tension as the news of the punishment had drawn a crowd of servants, their collective gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.
Mila and Clara, still protesting their innocence, found their pleas drowned out by the heavy silence that settled over the courtyard. The absence of the mistress of the house, whose final verdict had set this grim event in motion, added an eerie layer to the unfolding spectacle.
The guards, with a sense of duty, prepared for the punishment. The atmosphere hung thick with anticipation, and the distant sounds of the estate seemed to fade into the background. The courtyard, once a space of shared experiences and camaraderie, transformed into a stage for a cruel and harsh form of justice.
Mila and Clara, bound by the inexorable chains of accusation, exchanged a glance that conveyed both fear and defiance.
The courtyard fell into an uneasy silence as Mila and Clara were brought to their knees, their hands chained together. Mila's anxious expression betrayed the turmoil within her, on the verge of tears as she faced the grim reality of their impending punishment. On the other hand, Clara, surprisingly calm, exuded an inner strength that seemed to defy the cruel fate that awaited them.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, a mix of curiosity and, for some, a sadistic pleasure in witnessing the suffering of others. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the onlookers anticipated the first strike of the whip. Mila's eyes darted nervously across the faces in the crowd, searching for a shred of empathy or understanding, but all she found were indifferent gazes and judgmental expressions.
Two guards, whips in hand, positioned themselves behind Mila and Clara, their stern faces reflecting the harshness of their duty. The crowd's anticipation heightened, and a hushed tension enveloped the courtyard.
The first strike echoed through the air, a cruel sound that reverberated across the estate. Mila's body tensed, the pain searing through her, but she refused to give the crowd the satisfaction of witnessing her break. Clara, beside her, absorbed the blow with a stoic resolve, her calm demeanor unwavering.
As the second and third strikes followed, Mila's resolve wavered. The pain intensified, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. The crowd, now fully engaged in the spectacle, watched with a morbid fascination. Mila's eyes pleaded for mercy, her silent cries drowned out by the collective indifference surrounding her.
Clara, though enduring the same torment, maintained her composure. Her eyes locked with Mila's, conveying a silent message of solidarity and strength. The contrast between Mila's anguish and Clara's resilience created a poignant tableau of suffering and defiance.
The guards continued the relentless barrage of strikes, each one cutting through the air with cruel precision. The courtyard, once a space of shared experiences, now bears witness to the brutal manifestation of justice gone awry.
As the guards kept striking their backs, a memory suddenly passed through her mind. It was the memory of her first arrival at the estate, where a bunch of servants humiliated her because of her appearance, and how she concluded that she wasn't true allies in the estate.
And as she was in her current situation, she was reminded of how cruel a person can be. They were your friends at some point, but they will abandon you without hesitation when it serves their own interests. The pain inflicted by the guards served as a stark reminder that trust and loyalty were luxuries she could no longer afford in this unforgiving world.
Mila glanced through so much difficulty as each strike on her back surged so much through out her body and looked at Clara.
Mila's eyes met Clara's, and in that moment, she saw a flicker of empathy and understanding. It was a small glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, reminding her that not everyone in this world is heartless.
Mila broke down into tears as she saw how Clara looked at her, devoid of any hatred or judgment, when she was involved in this situation because of her.
Clara smiled faintly at her, with the strike sound on Clara's back serving as a painful reminder of the abuse they both endured.
The cloth on both of their backs is thorned with each strike and stained with crimson liquid. However, despite that, the guards still continued to strike them relentlessly, their bodies growing weaker with each blow.
Mila, struggling to catch her breath between sobs, managed to murmur, "Clara, I never imagined it would come to this. We were supposed to protect each other."
Clara, her face contorted in pain but her eyes still holding that glimmer of understanding, replied, "Mila, sometimes life takes cruel turns. But remember, we know the truth. No matter what they do to us here, our bond remains unbroken."
One of the guards, with a harsh tone, interjected, "Silence, you two! Accept your punishment and spare us the theatrics."
Mila, with tears streaming down her face, retorted defiantly, "You may break our bodies, but you'll never break our spirit. We are innocent!"
Clara's voice trembled as she whispered, "They can try to erase us, but they can never erase the love we have for each other."
The guard sneered, "Love won't save you now. You'll learn soon enough that innocence means nothing in this place."
"C-clara," Mila called as tears were still streaming through her cheeks, making her appearance even more vulnerable.
Clara's heart sank at the sight of her friend in such distress. "Stay strong, Mila," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "No matter what they do to us, we will always have each other."
The guard watched their exchange with disdain, but deep down, a flicker of unease passed through his eyes.