"Get off me!" Jess screamed, her arms held tightly behind her back. She felt like she was drowning, accidentally gulping mouthfuls of water, yet the maid's hands were so tight around her wrists that every struggle only forced more water into her mouth.
"Almost done, Miss," Marnie's voice was disconcertingly calm, a stark contrast to Jess's terror. Jess couldn't fathom how Marnie could sound so serene while practically waterboarding her, holding her captive. No matter the task Mrs. Dean—Margaret—foisted upon Marnie, the maid never balked. Jess imagined she could tell Marnie to stab a family member, and the impeccably uniformed woman would likely offer the same polite smile before plunging a blade straight into someone's heart.
Marnie, in her crisp black and white uniform, did her best not to hurt the young miss. But she would do her mistress's bidding without question. And Mrs. Dean was not pleased with her daughter's vibrant blue hair. Mrs. Dean, a woman whose every movement echoed the regal stiffness of the family portraits lining the polished mahogany hallways, had given the girl a few days to make the changes herself, not wanting her to be seen outside the house looking so, as Mrs. Dean had put it, "transient."
As the last of the black hair dye was poured over Jess's head, Marnie's grip loosened. Another maid, equally composed in her uniform, meticulously dried Jess's face. Once done, Marnie quickly seated Jess in the ornate, velvet-padded chair set up in the grand bathroom, its fixtures gleaming gold. Marnie needed to check, with her customary diligence, to ensure no sign of blue remained. Jess's hair wouldn't be the same rich, deep brown as the rest of the Dean lineage, but it certainly wouldn't be so starkly other anymore.
Jess sat forcefully in the chair, glaring at Marnie through the gilded mirror, already hating the dull black hair. It wasn't that she was attached to the blue, but she resented having to change for people who clearly didn't care about her. It wasn't as if changing her hair would magically stop their judging glares. She would still be a "freak" to them, even without the defiant color.
Marnie ran a comb through each section, ensuring the job was not just done right, but perfectly. A satisfied smile, rarely seen outside of tasks meticulously completed, touched her lips as she noted not a single speck of blue remained in the girl's hair. Releasing Jess's arms, she came to stand directly in front of her. "Young Miss," Marnie said, her voice soft but firm, "we will need to remove the piercings. Would you like to do it, or would you rather have me do it?"
Jess really wanted to hit her, to lash out at the woman's unwavering composure. But it was useless. She had already tried, and the only thing that got hurt was her own fist. Marnie seemed immune to all insults and physical resistance.
Getting up from the chair, Jess leaned into the mirror, her reflection stark against the elegant bathroom. She systematically removed the collection of piercings along her ear, leaving only two small studs in the very first holes she'd ever gotten.
"Lovely," Marnie declared honestly, extending her hand for the discarded metal. Jess would no longer need them.
Jess didn't even hand them over. She simply left them on the polished marble countertop and walked away, heading straight for her bedroom, leaving Marnie to collect them.
"Why do you look like a drowned rat?" Her younger sister, Lily, asked, her nose turned up in barely concealed disgust. At twelve or thirteen, Lily was a miniature replica of their mother, Mrs. Dean. Every subtle tilt of Lily's lips, every slight arch of her brow, was a carbon copy of Margaret. Lily, whose upbringing had instilled in her the unwavering belief that defectives were inherently lesser, clearly wore those life lessons. As much as Jess longed for a relationship with her siblings, Lily's air of inherited superiority always got under her skin.
"Take a wild guess?" Jess sneered back, her voice dripping with venom.
Stumbling upon the familiar scene, which had become quite commonplace in the house since Jess's return, Young Mister Johnny, at twenty-two, rushed over. He gently placed his hands on Jess's shoulders and guided her back into her room, entering with her.
"I did tell you Mom was serious about the hair thing," Johnny said, looking at the now black hair that rested a little below Jess's shoulders. It almost made her look a bit like her friend, the pretty one with the black hair and blue eyes.
"Yeah, she's a ray of sunshine!" Jess muttered, falling backward onto her four-poster bed, its antique silk sheets now soaking with her damp hair and likely transferring some of the dye.
"Just lay low," Johnny said, genuinely unsure how to comfort her. The walls of their ancestral home, with its grand staircase showcasing generations of sculpted busts and oil paintings depicting proud Dean ancestors in hunting scenes and formal gatherings, seemed to amplify the unspoken tension. Every piece of décor, from the heavy, tasseled curtains to the ornate fireplace mantels adorned with gold trophies, screamed lineage and bloodline. It was a house that breathed old money and inherited status, and Jess's very presence felt like a discordant note.
"Yeah! Lay low here, lay low at the warrior training. Just be as invisible as possible."
As much as Johnny urged her not to look forward to the warrior training, Jess was genuinely excited. Anything that could get her out of this suffocating house was a reprieve. Mrs. Dean had many rules for her home, all enforced with silent, unwavering authority by staff like Marnie. The first rule: "Don't go outside." The second: "Don't embarrass the house." Jess wasn't sure how she could embarrass them, considering she wasn't allowed to leave the house in the first place. Who could she embarrass if she couldn't go out?
Jess didn't care how dangerous this warrior training was. She would get to see Trinity and Ryan, and just be anywhere but here. She'd never felt so stifled. For the most part, everyone else in the house ignored her, other than Lily's occasional barbed comments. Everyone else seemed to simply leave her to her own devices, as if she didn't exist, ignoring everything about her. Johnny was the only one who treated her like an actual human being, but even she urged him to ignore her when their parents were around, not wanting to get him into any trouble with the formidable Mr. and Mrs. Dean.
"Get some sleep!" Johnny said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"Can I ask you a favor? Again?" Jess asked, offering a sad smile, not really feeling like the big sister in this situation. "At training, focus on you. I'm not going to be a warrior. And I have Ryan and Trinity to watch my back. I know just being what I am isn't exactly great for you. So, let's just not talk when we're not home." Jess gave him a truly sorrowful smile, wishing that the divide in their society wasn't so stark. But she didn't want him to be affected by her outcast status. Johnny was a good person.
"I'm your taller brother, I'm not going to ignore you." Johnny felt like his sister was the younger one when it came to the two of them. But he would look out for her. She seemed so small and fragile, nothing like all the wild tales he had heard about defectives—no tail or scales, just a small, very short girl.
The next morning, it was as if Jimmy hadn't listened to a word Jess had said. He simply ignored her plea, chatting happily beside her as they walked towards the warrior training house, the chasm of their social standing widening with every step.