Hermosa

The head maid scrunched her nose as though the air itself had offended her. Her upper lip curled, eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down with open disgust.

And I couldn’t even blame her.

My overall was stained with dried mud and streaks of something darker from the hospital floor. My hair hadn’t been brushed properly. I smelled faintly of antiseptic and smoke.

But embarrassing me in front of Ragal — in front of everyone — and calling me a prisoner?

...