Mae hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, another bang rattled the door, drunkards or worse, trying their luck. After the third attempt, she dragged every piece of furniture in the room and jammed it against the door. The stool, the table, the wardrobe, all of it wedged together until there was barely space to stand.
She spent the rest of the night curled in the corner, eyes fixed on the door, daring it to move.
Her stomach cramped in waves, probably from the stew. Her forehead was slick with cold sweat. And somewhere around midnight, another realization had hit her like a slap: no washroom. Just a bucket system that hadn't been emptied in what looked like weeks. No toilet paper. Not even cloth.
She had suffered in ways her twenty-first century self had never thought to prepare for.
Is this God showing me how blessed I was? Because this is extreme. Couldn't I have gotten a fortune cookie? A gentle dream?
Then, faintly through the floorboards, a voice in the corridor.
"Hot water for baths! Come now or wait till dusk!"
She was on her feet before the words finished. Shoved the furniture aside, arms trembling with the effort, and cracked the door open.
The same barmaid from last night. Pretty green eyes, short curly hair, an apron grayed with soot, hands red from carrying buckets.
"Your bathwater, miss."
Mae stepped aside. In the dim light, she noticed for the first time a half-barrel tub wedged into the corner, so warped it had blended right into the wall. The maid peeled off the lid and poured two steaming buckets in. Mist curled up, earthy and clean. Then she set a small gray cube on the ledge beside it.
"Soap?"
"Boiled lavender ash. It'll work."
She turned to leave. Mae stopped her.
"What's your name?"
The girl looked up properly for the first time. "Lora."
"Lora." Mae managed a tired version of a smile. "Do you know where I can get clothes? Something normal." She gestured vaguely at the ruins of her gold-threaded dress.
Lora's eyes flicked over the outfit. "Used clothes shop down the street. They'll have something plainer."
"Could you go for me? I'll pay you. For the clothes and for going." A flicker of something moved through Lora's expression.
"I also need shoes." Mae pointed at Lora's feet. "Something better than those."
"Second-hand," Lora said. "But I'll try."
They settled on three lumens for clothes, three for shoes, three starlings for the errand itself. Mae pulled the coins from her satchel and handed them over. It stung a little watching them go. But real comfort was worth it. "Back in an hour?" Mae asked.
"If I can," Lora said and left.
Mae stood at the door a moment after she'd gone. The first person in this world she could maybe trust had just walked away. All she could do was wait.
She stripped what was left of the dress off and sank into the tub, water lukewarm, just enough to ease the ache out of her bones. Her hair floated around her. She stared at the cracked ceiling. "I'll die of sleep deprivation before I figure out why I'm
What's the point? Why am I still trying so desperately to live?
The thought settled over her like the steam around her. She stared at the water, at her own hands beneath the surface, pale and still.
She had wanted to end it that night in her apartment. Had stood in that kitchen and wished for a different life, any life, and instead woken up here. And for what? To sleep in a straw bed in a world that didn't know her name? To eat bread that tasted like gravel and fight off drunkards all night?
She had nothing. No family. No plan. No reason.
It would be easy. Easier than this.
She thought about it for a moment. Then she slid down until the water closed over her head.
The world went quiet. Muffled and distant, just the soft rush of water in her ears and the warmth pressing in from all sides.
If I die here, maybe I'll actually get there. Maybe I'll see them. My real parents. Maybe that's where I was supposed to go the first time.
Her eyes closed.
Just a little longer.
Then her body betrayed her.
Her muscles fired without permission, pushing, clawing, every instinct she had screaming against what her mind had decided. Her lungs pinched, then burned, then crushed inward like something being wrung dry. Her eyes snapped open beneath the surface, blurred and stinging.
Just stay. Stay. It'll be over soon.
She thought it as hard as she could.
Her body kept fighting anyway.
Then a hand closed around the back of her neck and hauled her up.
She broke the surface, gasping, water pouring off her face, chest heaving. Lora was crouched beside the tub, eyes red, hands shaking,
"Miss!" Her voice cracked. "Miss, wake up, please—"
She pressed both palms to Mae's chest and pushed, once, twice, until Mae lurched forward and coughed, water spilling out of her, lungs burning as they dragged in air.
Lora grabbed her face with both hands. Her eyes were wet, her breathing ragged.
"What were you doing?" she whispered. "What were you doing?"
Mae said nothing. She just sat there, dripping, chest heaving, staring at the water.
Alive again.
She looked at Lora, who was desperately trying to save her. She looked at the wide open door, while the clothes she had brought were scattered on the floor behind her. She saw the horrified look in Lora's eyes, and she simply spoke, "I fell asleep," she lied.
Lora was surprised, but then she stood up as if she had overstepped her boundary and apologized before hurriedly retreating after pushing the clothes towards her.
After Lora had left, Mae could not move for a long time. 'What had gotten into me?' she thought. No matter how lonely she was, how was she just planning on ending it all? She shuddered; she was definitely losing it, and purposefully threw this thought in the back of her mind, not wanting to entertain what she had just done moments ago. "I need to look around. If I stay cramped here any longer i will definitely think of something weird again." She said, glancing back at the water.
She got on her feet and picked up the clothes.
Plain, but decent. An off-white cotton dress, tiered to the ankles, a deep maroon lace-up bodice, and a pair of dark brown ankle boots, cracked in places but recently stitched. She dressed slowly, laced everything up, and caught herself in the small mirror.
She stuffed her old pink clothes into the leather bag, tucked the coin pouch deep inside, and went down for breakfast. The dining board hung crooked near the counter:
Wheat Gruel with Honey. Crusty Rye with Smoked Turnip Butter. Herbed Egg Porridge. Yesterday's Stew, Reheated. Sweet Root Tea, Lukewarm.
Mae stared at it. "Not the stew," she muttered, shaking her head.
She ordered the gruel and tea, sat by the dim window, and worked through the bowl spoonful by spoonful. The honey was barely there. But it was edible, and that was all she had the energy to ask for.
Lora's face surfaced in her mind as she sipped the tea.