Alice’s P.O.V.

As I prepare lunch, my hands shake uncontrollably, the knife slipping from my grasp. I’m lost in the thoughts of what I witnessed this morning. Fear grips me tightly, refusing to let go. The horrifying images of Edward Sir’s cruelty towards Nancy, the sound of her screams, and the intensity of her suffering replay over and over in my mind.

The sound of my ringing phone startles me; the caller ID displays “Master,” and a sense of dread washes over me. I take a deep ...