Episode 1

I never understood why he came looking for me, why, if my mere presence bothered him so much.

I've been living here for about 6 years now; I still remember the day I arrived. Since I was 3 years old, I had been in an orphanage. From what I know, my mother died; she had me very young. I know nothing about her family (I don't know if she had one or not); I only know that when she died, I ended up in that place. When I was 10, a man appeared at the orphanage to claim me; he was my father. I didn't know of his existence; I never knew anything about him. How, after so many years, did he know about me? Why was he looking for me? Would he know anything about my mom? All those questions and more filled my head that afternoon; none were answered.

I got into his car full of hopes, well disguised under my shyness and uncertainty. He was silent the whole time, barely even looked at me.

I got into the car with my only belongings in a paper bag, a change of clothes, nothing more was coming with me that day.

He was driving, and I was sitting beside him, in the passenger seat. The car looked like one of those latest models, the kind you see in magazines.

I didn't want to look him directly in the eyes, so I just tried to glance out of the corner of my eye. I could tell he had blue eyes, almost gray; he was tall, dressed well, and smelled of cigarettes.

Throughout the entire time, he never spoke to me, nor looked at me, until I uttered the first words, and damn, would I regret it.

"- Are you my father?" Fear overcame me. Silence, and then whack, a backhand slap that made my face turn and my head hit the car door window, that's how hard it was. I brought my hand to my cheek, which was hot and burning; I could feel his fingers imprinted there, I could feel them. I stayed still and silent; scared was an understatement.

At that moment, he turned around, looked at me with hatred and disgust.

"- Let me make something clear to you, never address me with that word again, don't you even think about calling me that way again, because I assure you, you piece of shit, you'll have a very bad time."

I froze, and in that very moment, I knew I wasn't going to a better place, and that nothing good would come of this.

He just kept driving in silence. It took us quite a while to arrive; it was a remote place, almost like the countryside. In the distance, a huge, beautiful house could be seen. I wouldn't say it looked like a modern mansion, but it was undoubtedly a lovely house with its own charm.

He gets out and tells me to go down the path, towards the back of the house, and to wait for him by the service door, that he would go introduce me and arrange everything.

I get out, and a man approaches to talk to him. I continue on my way in the direction he told me and wait at the door. As I was walking, I could see that the place was truly enormous, imposing, lots of land, lots of green, trees, and endless vegetation; you really couldn't see where the property ended.

Just then, the man approaches, passes by, and opens the door leading to a pantry, crammed with food and utensils. He continues down a hallway that leads to another storeroom, and on the other side, a cold room, I suppose something like a giant refrigerator. He keeps walking until he reaches an enormous kitchen. In this place, there's an older woman, perhaps around 50 years old; from what I overheard, she's the housekeeper. At no point does he tell her I'm his daughter, only that from today on, I'll be working here, that they should give me a uniform, find me a bed anywhere, and that no one should speak to me; they were forbidden to socialize with me more than permitted. The woman listened and nodded to everything.

He left; he didn't address me, didn't even look at me.

The woman took me to the laundry room and gave me a uniform. From there, she gave me a full tour of the kitchen area, the pantries, the laundry room, the service bathroom, and finally, my room. It was a small place, with no ambition to be more than that. Compared to everything else she had shown me, it was truly depressing, and I don't think it had ever seen better days. It had no windows, but it did have a door that led directly outside to a backyard, which in turn had a washbasin and, further back, a long line of clotheslines. I suppose in other times, it might have been a laundry room or another pantry.

I resigned myself to it; given how everything had started, I was in no position to complain.

The room contained a bed, a nightstand, and a chair; it didn't even have a wardrobe. But since all my luggage was a paper bag with a change of clothes, I didn't see that as a problem.

I left "my luggage" and put on the uniform to start my chores, as it seemed I would be a servant here, or perhaps a maid; I didn't know yet.

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