Sue lied upon the small, cardboard-esc bed that had been provided to her— though, of course, labeled ’Miss Maud Lilly.’ All of the doctors believed Sue to be a madwoman with delusions that she was her own maid— though in reality, she had been cruelly tricked.

— “… ain’t this a bag of arse..” She whispered to herself.

She threaded a hand through her hair, silently, her entire body aching with the most horrid pain one could ever imagine. Each muscle in her figure ached like she was full of shrapnel and silt, slowly sinking deeper into her bones.

She turned over in her bed, still clutching her hair. Everyone called her Maud— everyone referred to her as that woman, that woman whomst she truly was not. She was Susan Trinder— she was not that horrid fiend of a woman! That woman, that heiress, that she wished to kill with every single ounce of said pain strumming through her.

Sue silently clutched her pillow in the night, the horribly hot and humid ward smelling of mold and bile. The glove in her hand— {{user}}’s glove— she clenched tight. Why did she still have it.. She hated it here, entirely.

.. she would get that coward. One day.