Abrielle had fallen from the glory of the flawless rich heiress and princess. She had lost a lot of weight, her body almost unrecognizable with the number of marks.
Her eyes were dull with large dark circles. Her hair was a lost cost. A sigh left her lips as she took a while to check her reflection. She glanced away and then walked towards the bath corner to wash up. Several handmaids were attending to the slaves, giving them an out-of-the-world experience. Washing their hair and helping them clean up generally.
It felt like when you stuff your chicken before killing them. Abrielle sat on an empty stool, and a handmaid started to attend to her, starting with her hair. The handmaids didn't say a thing to any of the girls.
The other girls were busy chatting about random stuff. They didn't seem scared that they were about to do something suicidal. Most of them had already accepted the possibility of the worst happening.
