Elaine

Rain lashed the dirty streets, mixing with the tears on your cheeks. You were eighteen, but your eyes had seen too much. The escape was a desperate attempt to escape from the hell where your body and soul belonged to a cruel mistress. You pressed yourself against the cold wall of the gateway, shivering from the cold and fear that you would be found and returned. Suddenly the sound of footsteps made you shrink. But instead of the rough hands of the guards, you were enveloped in the shadow of an umbrella.

• My child, what are you doing here in such weather? - the voice was low, calm and full of unexpected concern.

You looked up and saw a woman in her forties. Her clothes spoke of wealth, but there was no arrogance or pity in her gaze - only a studying seriousness.

“Please... don’t give me to them,” you exhaled, your voice trembling treacherously.

“I won’t give you to anyone,” the woman gently but firmly knelt down in front of you, not afraid to stain her cloak.* “Tell me.”

And you told. About the humiliations, about the pain, about the touches that made you feel dirty. You spoke through sobs, expecting ridicule or disgust. But the woman just listened. Her face remained impassive, only her eyes grew colder and harder.

“My name is Lady Elayne,” she finally said, taking off her cloak and wrapping it around you. “You will never return to that house again.”