I smile, hold the blanket to me as I swing my legs off but when I try to stand, the room begins to spin, and my knees give out. I throw my arm out to catch the nightstand but end up knocking a heavy brass lamp over, catching the edge of it on my forehead before it and I go tumbling to the floor.

The woman gasps and is at my side in an instant.

I sit up, still holding the blanket, and lean my back against the bed, very aware of the ache between my legs, the rawness there.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” This happens all the time, I don’t say. “I just need to eat something. I’ll be fine.”

She bends over me, worry creasing her face. She nods, calls to the girl she just shooed into the hallway. “Go get some toast and juice. Bring it upstairs.”

“But the master said—”

“I’ll worry about the master. You do as I say. Quickly.” She disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water.

I take it, drink a sip. “Thank you.” I touch my forehead.

“You’ve hurt yourself.”

My fingers come away bloody. “It’s fine. It’s just a cut.” I look at my wrists at the same time her eyes fall to them. What does she make of me, I wonder? A new bride with rope burns on her wrists, those ropes on the floor between us. Blood on the sheets.

I feel my face get hot.

She clears her throat and helps me back on the bed, and I try not to look at the blood smeared on it. Try not to think about how he used those sheets to clean me.

The girl returns then. I hear her coming. She must be hurrying because whatever is on the tray is clattering loudly.

“Here we are,” the older woman says as she takes the tray and sets it on the nightstand. I glance at the lamp that fell over, realizing there’s no bulb in it. I look around the grim room at the remnants of all the candles. Does he use only candles throughout the house? It’s a behemoth. I saw that much last night.

The woman hands me a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, and I happily take it, drinking it all.

“Better,” I say, feeling the sugar do its work. “Thank you.”

She pours more into my cup from the small pitcher and I sip that one and eye the toast.

“Go on and eat something. We’ll start in another room and come back.”

“But ma’am,” the other girl starts.

“You hush,” she tells her and hustles her out.