CHAPTER 2:Meeting Mrs Pactria

CYNTHIA P.O.V

I jolted awake as the carriage hit a bump, my vision blurry from sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to focus on my surroundings. "You're awake," a girl beside me whispered. I turned toward her just as the carriage lurched again, causing me to yelp in surprise. My heart pounded as I looked around. "Where am I?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.

"You're inside a carriage," she replied, her tone flat. "I don't know where we're headed."

I scanned the carriage again, noticing others crammed inside with us. Fear tightened its grip on me. "Are we going to be sold?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The girl nodded, her expression grim. "Yes. What else were you expecting?"

My mind raced, but before I could ask more questions, the carriage came to a sudden stop. The feed sacks that had been stacked above us were abruptly removed, revealing a shadowy figure. "Get out quickly!" a man barked.

We scrambled out of the carriage, but in my haste, I lost one of my sandals. An old woman approached us, leaning heavily on a cane. The man beside her pushed me forward roughly, and I stumbled to the ground.

"Any tattoos?" the old woman asked, her voice as cold as her gaze.

"No, ma'am," I lied, hoping she wouldn't press further.

"Liar," she snapped, lifting her chin in disdain. "I'll take her—and the one with the black hair," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

The man squinted at the group of girls. "Which one?"

"The one in the green cloth," she replied, her eyes still fixed on me.

I was still trying to clean the dirt from my hands when another man grabbed me roughly, pulling me toward the house. "Take her to the room prepared for her," the old woman ordered, not bothering to look back.

The man dragged me down a narrow hallway and threw me into a dimly lit room, slamming the door behind me. "That was harsh," I muttered under my breath, trying to steady my breathing.

"I know, right?" a voice suddenly said from the darkness, nearly causing my heart to leap out of my chest. A girl stepped into the light, her expression kind. "Don’t mind him; he’s actually nice once you get to know him. Hi, I’m Maria."

"Hi," I replied cautiously, still trying to process everything. Maria’s eyes widened as she noticed the scrapes on my legs and arms.

"Oh my gosh, you’re injured! Quick, get out of those clothes. I need to prepare a bath for you and disinfect those wounds before they get infected." She bustled about, her movements swift and efficient.

I hesitated, feeling overwhelmed, but Maria stopped to look at me. "Am I making sense?" she asked, her tone softening.

"Yes," I finally replied, standing up slowly.

Maria helped me out of my tattered clothes and led me to a small bathroom. She carefully disinfected my wounds and covered them with cotton wool. "You’re black and beautiful," she remarked, tying my hair into a bun. "Which country are you from?"

"I don’t really know," I admitted. "But I would say Nigeria."

"Rare," she muttered, her eyes lingering on me. "How did you get that tattoo on your hip?"

I tensed, remembering the mark. "That’s none of your business," I snapped, my voice colder than I intended.

Maria didn’t seem offended. Instead, she complimented my long, curly hair as she finished securing it. "I’m jealous," she said with a smile. "It’s beautiful."

"Thanks," I murmured, my thoughts still swirling.

"Make-up?" she asked, holding up a small box.

"No, thanks," I said quickly, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself.

"I think you’re ready to see 'Mother,'" she said, but her voice held an edge that made me uneasy.

I glanced down at the white gown she handed me. "I don’t think this fits right," I protested as I slipped it on. It was too tight, clinging to my every curve.

"It’s perfect," Maria insisted, dismissing my concerns as she dragged me out of the room.

The house was grand, every corner adorned with elegant decorations that made me feel even more out of place. We walked down a long hallway until we reached a large room filled with other girls. They all turned to stare as we entered.

"Maria, is this the new girl?" An average-height girl rushed over, her eyes curious.

"Yes, her name is..." Maria turned to me, whispering, "What’s your name?"

I hesitated before answering. "Cynthia."

Maria smiled, turning back to the others. "Her name is Cynthia."

"Wow, Cynthia, you’re so pretty!" one of the girls exclaimed, and soon a chorus of compliments followed.

"Girls!" A stern voice cut through the chatter like a knife. The room fell silent as an elderly woman, the same one from before, entered. Her presence commanded immediate respect.

Maria stepped back, her demeanor changing instantly. "Name?" the old woman demanded.

"Cynthia, Mother," Maria answered for me, her voice full of respect.

"Tattoo?" the woman asked sharply.

"Yes, Mother," Maria replied without hesitation.

I blinked in confusion. *Wait... I told her that was none of her business.*

The old woman’s piercing gaze settled on me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Whatever was coming next, I knew it wasn’t going to be good.

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