Mr. Harsh & Her

Chapter 1

Rachel's POV

I was exhausted. Carelessly, I stacked the towels onto the linen shelf in the laundry room. It's been a really demanding Monday for me since Saturday night I had to work a double shift at the golf club for the annual golfing founders' day. Rich, sleazy men in suits and young woman in evening gowns that left nothing to the imagination. Serving them finger foods and champagne constantly was much more tiring than it seems.

It was difficult to land the weekend job at the golf club but I needed the extra cash along with my normal salary that I received working as a maid at the Ashford Mansion.

 It was a tough few years and as soon as I finished high school, I knew that further studies were out of the question due to my financial state.

However I still took a leap of faith and applied to various community colleges, tertiary institutions and any other faculty that offered scholarships or bursaries. I will admit, it did sting a little when I received the rejection letters one after the other. I knew I wasn't that smart but turns out I'm actually below average according to those standards as depicted on the letters.

So much for my already crumbling self-esteem.

I sighed deeply and loaded the sheets into the washer. Working at the main mansion on the Ashford Estate was always draining.

The pay was somewhat reasonable, enough to get me through the apartments rent, utilities, food and transportation. Grandma's medication took up the balance of my pay but there wasn't anything I could do about it. 

I was grateful that she did take me in when I was dumped at her door. Although she was never affectionate or remotely lovable towards me, she was decent enough. She allowed me to live with her, eat her food and get through school. It wasn't as if she was well off either, working as a cashier could only do so much.

The old clock in the main foyer of the mansion went off indicating that it was time to serve lunch. 

I quickly finished doing the laundry and went to the kitchen to help the others in setting the table for Mr. and Mrs. Ashford along with their daughter, Madison, who was recently divorced with a child. Baby Lilly was barely a year old.

It was Monday which meant that it was my turn to feed the old and frail senior Mr Ashford – The leader of this estate and great grandpa of Lilly.

Mr. Jack Ashford refused to leave his wing of the mansion and eat with all of his children ever since his wife passed. Cathleen Ashford was the epitome of grace, beauty and kindness – so I've heard. Ever since she passed, Mr. Ashford has become a bitter old man who longs for his deceased wife.

I had to carry his tray of food and lay it in the sun room where he preferred to have his meals. His arthritis unfortunately affected his hands the worst. He could barely even move his fingers which is why we had to be at his aid.

After tackling the brutal day, I couldn't wait to get home. It was long after sunset that I got to leave. 

Today a bit later than usual because Madison was being her usual negligent self and refused to pacify Lily insisting that she had to go out shopping with her friends. She didn't work a day in her life. Her inheritance from her late Grandma and her recent divorce compensation was enough to set her up for 5 lives.

Baby Lilly wasn't comfortable around anyone except me and her nanny. Therefore it was mainly my duty to tend the wailing infant at times when I was available. I liked Lilly a lot. She was a sweet baby, one in dire need of love. I was a girl of a very few words, hardly ever speaking unless spoken too but I could babble all day with Lilly.

Finally, the first bus arrived. I got of at the third stop and proceeded to wait for the second bus. Today it was taking extra long.

I leaned against the high wall and took out my peach coloured leather diary from my handbag. It was the only thing I owned that was very dear to me. It had everything that went on in my brain. From my goals to my thoughts to pictures of things I could only dream off owning.

My collage pages were my favourite. They allowed me to escape reality for a few moments and imagine myself living a lavish life.

I hopped on the second bus after it arrived and thought ahead to what I had to do. Grandma needed her medicine, I needed to clean the apartment and organize this months bills as well as find some direction in my miserable life. I needed something to make me feel happy and get me through the mundane life that I lived.

I walked up to the apartment after picking up a newspaper from the newspaper rack from the convenience store just a few metres away. 

I was met with the usual silence that always greeted me when I entered. It was a one bedroom apartment with my bedroom being the couch. Due to my grandma's cancer state, she required the room all to herself.

I quietly opened the bedroom door to check her oxygen levels and see if everything was in order with her as she was asleep. Thereafter I stripped out of my clothes, showered and made myself a sandwich to eat. I read the depressing newspaper and cut out a picture of a huge house by the ocean – Hamptons style. This was going in the collage pages of my diary.

Everything I saw, liked, hoped and dream for went in the collage pages of my diary. To some it may have been embarrassing to look at the things I had cut out but to me, they were the little achievable dreams that I could definitely work towards and make it happen. Pictures of expensive restaurants, fancy clothes, netflix and even a huge canopy bed were all pasted.

I wasn't a girl who was allowed to dream big anyways... Those little things were as far as my dreams were allowed to go. As it is I was barely surviving for the past 19 years.

A big yawn interrupted my thoughts and my body felt sore everywhere. I needed to sleep for a few months it seemed however I knew that I had to look for a new job that paid more because grandma's condition was only getting worse and it's only a matter of time until more expenses pour in.

Everything required a degree of some sort, or experience in the set field but here I was stuck with a below average high school certificate.

All I wanted to do was cry. It's honestly a nightly routine at this point. There hasn't been a night where I haven't cried. I know I'm supposed to grateful for the little that I have because things could be far worse, however I can't help but imagine how the burdens would be lighter if I had more.

More money, more knowledge, more genuine family, more love, more space, more time, more things

Just more. I would do anything in a heartbeat to have more if I was given the opportunity. I definitely had pride, but its no use to live up to it when you're constantly struggling.