Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Cup
Dinner in the West Wing was always brought on a silver tray by a silent maid. That evening, it included the usual: roasted chicken, vegetables, and two steaming cups of chamomile tea. One for Maya, one for Seraphina.
Maya waited until the heavy steel door clicked shut. Seraphina reached for the tea.
"Stop," Maya said sharply.
Seraphina froze, looking at her with wide, fearful eyes. Maya took the teacup, walked into the adjoining bathroom, and poured it down the sink. She did the same with her own. She filled both cups with tap water and returned to the table.
"Drink this instead," Maya whispered.
Seraphina hesitated, then took a sip. When she realized it was just water, a strange look crossed her face—a mixture of relief and absolute terror.
They sat in silence for hours. Usually, by 8:30 PM, Seraphina was sluggish, her eyes drooping until she collapsed into bed. Tonight, the clock struck 10:00 PM, and the girl was wide awake. The fog that usually clouded her eyes had lifted.
Maya sat on the edge of the bed. "Seraphina. Please. What is happening in this house?"
The girl looked at the door, trembling. She opened her mouth. Her throat worked, dry from years of forced silence.
"My name," the girl croaked, her voice harsh and raspy like sandpaper, "is not Seraphina."
May you like
Maya felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"
"Seraphina is dead," the girl whispered, tears spilling over her pale cheeks. "I am Clara. I am her twin sister. And if they find out you didn't drug me, they will kill you, too."
