Chapter 1
Fire. Fire consumed every wall, shattering windows as the heat and pressure grew.
"Nancy!" someone called but I couldn't hear over the noise of the fire. I run, screaming as a beam falls from the top of the house. I lunged to escape the flaming wood, screaming in agony as I land on my hands and knees, hearing a crack that doesn't sound right.
"NANCY!" the voice calls again and I scream back, "I'm here!" I cough as smoke fills my lungs, my tears turning to steam as the heat scorches my face.
"MOM!" I cry, dragging myself across the floor. Another beam falls in front of me and I try and fail to move out of the way. Another agonizing scream ripping from my throat.
*
I wake up in a cold sweat, my breaths coming out quickly and in just as fast. I jerked my head around my room, fire nowhere to be seen. Just a dream. I think, slowly calming my breathing as I sit up in bed. I can still smell smoke as I wipe the sweat from my brow. A soft knock sounds at my closed door and then, "Nancy? Are you okay?"
"Yea, mom, just a nightmare!" I call back. I hear the doorknob turn and light from the hallway fills the room. My mom steps in, wearing her robe that she had since I was four. Her hair was undone, the long brown curls wrapping around themselves over each other, ending just above her stomach. Her blue eyes shine with worry and her lips fall into a thin frown. "The same one?" I nod, looking away from her. She walks softly into my room and I feel the weight of her body sinks my mattress.
"It's never going to happen, I promise." I nod, but ice settles in my chest. I researched (used Chatgpt) my dream and it was always the same explanation, that it was more of a fear that I would be left to die alone while my mother watched. In every dream, my mother's voice was always close, but whenever I called out, it never seemed to reach her.
"How's dad?" I deflect. I hadn't heard from him since he left two years ago.
"I honestly don't know. He hasn't said a word to me since the divorce." My mother responds. I know it's a lie. Dad and her are always talking (arguing) over why he left. I skipped school enough to get home in time to hear it.
"Well, I should get back to sleep. I have work in the morning." I say, my gaze finally drifting back to her. She gives me a small smile, pats my leg, and leaves. She closes door, leaving me in the dark. I fall back onto my pillow, the sweat left there now cold and welcoming.
*
I get up at 6 A.M, having not gone back to sleep for fear of the dream coming back. I get dressed in my uniform, a black dress with a black apron. I pull my black hair up into a ponytail and add a magenta mascara to my lashes. My hazel eyes suck in the color, the green in the mixed colored orbs brightening. My features, my broad nose, thin lips and high cheekbones are all from my father. The only thing that resembles my mother is my hair, the thick curls falling to my shoulders.
I quickly put on my converses and leave the house, getting in my 1967 charger. I sigh and start the car, pulling out of the short suburban driveway and heading to my job as a maid for the richest man in Alamosa, Colorado. The sun is barely over the mountains as I pull into the gated drive of the 7 room, 3 wing mansion. I park and get out of the car, greeting the old doorman with a smile.
"Good morning, Jeeves." I chuckle as the man smiles back.
"Good morning, your majesty." He chuckles as he opens the door for me. We never bothered to learn the other's names. The nicknames came about when I was screaming along with Queen as I mopped the kitchen. He walked in to grab his lunch from the fridge and tapped me on the shoulder to inform me that the cleaning queen would be what he called me. I laughed and then started calling him Jeeves, even though his only job was to open the front door.
"The master wants to see you in his study." Jeeves says as I enter the glorious home.
"What, why?" I ask, my stomach dropping.
"No idea. I was simply told to inform you upon arrival." Jeeves shrugs and points up the spiral stairs, "First door on the left." I nod and then walk to the stairs, taking each step slowly. My heart thundered in my chest and I blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling.
I finally make it up the stairs and turn left. The study oak door stands closed before me, it's dark wood finish mocking me with every step I take towards it. I suck in a breath and knock, my hand shaking with the anticipation that I will no longer have a job.
"Come in." A stern, cold voice calls out. I take in another breath and turn the glass door knob. I step in the office and look around. Paintings hung on the wall with golden frames mocked my poverty. The floor to ceiling windows were blocked by velvet curtains, the maroon fabric catching the overhead lights from the chandelier.
"Mr. Winchester."
