Page 5 of Dissent (The Dissenter Saga #1)

T he knocking at my door startled me awake, but sleep clung to my consciousness, dulling my senses.

Even though Chase had tried to soothe my fears the day before, I was still super freaked out.

What if someone called my parents and told them about the incident?

Luckily, I didn’t see anyone when I got home last night, and no one came looking for me either. I went straight to bed.

Knock, knock, knock.

I wanted to sleep. I was so tired. My nerves had me tossing and turning all night, and at one point, I had a nightmare of being caught by the REG in front of the defiled poster, holding red spray paint.

And then my dad’s face came into view, the sheer look of disappointment cutting through me like a knife.

No matter how many times I told him it wasn’t me, he never believed me.

Then she showed up, her collected, perfect smile mocking me as I begged to be believed.

I woke up sweating, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Knock, knock, knock.

“ Mara , are you awake?”

Ugh…Chelsea. One of these days, I needed to ask for a new personal maid. She just wasn’t going to work out. I could feel it in my bones.

“ Mara ,” she called out louder, knocking again.

I grumbled, rubbing my eyes as I tried to wake up.

“Yes, yes. Give me a minute.” I pulled back my sheets and slipped off the bed, stumbling in a stupor to grab my robe.

I didn’t make it three steps before Chelsea let herself in.

The sudden burst of energy snapped me awake, seizing my attention.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing? ”

She paused for a second and gave me a bored look as she balanced a bundle of clean laundry on her hip. “Coming to change your sheets. What does it look like?” Her tone was caustic, and that didn’t settle well with me.

My brows furrowed as I argued, “You can’t just barge in here without permission, you know. You’re a maid, remember? Your job is to follow orders and do as you’re told.”

She arched a brow, running her tongue over her lips. “Oh, yeah, I forgot that part. Sorry .” She rolled her eyes as she turned away, plopping the sheets on the ground.

I felt the annoyance swirl within me. “You just don’t get it, do you? Your job is to cater to me. I’m a Noble Class citizen and you’re a Subclass citizen. That means you have to treat me with respect.”

She kept her back turned to me, bending over to pick through the pile she dumped on the ground. “Mm-hmm…got it, boss.”

“Erg!” I marched over, grabbed her by the upper arm and turned her around to face me.

“It’s Miss Mara, Chelsea. Miss. ” It was taking everything within me to keep my temper in check.

I didn’t enjoy rubbing my status in other people’s faces.

That was definitely a Belinda thing. But the situation with Chelsea was a constant problem, and I was growing super tired of it.

Chelsea glanced down at the hand I had firmly grasped around her arm before flicking her gaze upon me. Her deep emerald eyes spoke volumes, and it was definitely no love story. The fakest smile I’d ever seen slid across her lips.

“Oh, yeah, silly me. I guess I just forgot again.” She stood up straight and pulled her arm away from me. I let it go easily. “Sorry about that, Miss Mara.”

The familiar sting of adrenaline coursed through my body. I leaned in, my face only inches from hers. “Then get your memory checked, because I can guarantee Belinda will not be nearly as forgiving as I am.”

“Is that a fact, my dear Mara?”

I jumped, startled by the new, silky voice.

Chelsea quickly bowed her head. “Good morning, Mistress Belinda.”

I shifted uncomfortably, but I did my best to muster a greeting as I turned to face my stepmother.

Belinda had always been beautiful, and the perfect representation of what every aristocrat in the Noble Class should be—tall, graceful, crisp .

Her blonde locks were always neatly wrapped in a bun, every hair dutifully in its place.

With sharp, angular features, and piercing blue eyes, only one word could describe her— perfect.

But for all her outer beauty and poise, her personality did little to match.

Though she was as graceful as a cat, she was ruthless, deceitful, and just downright cruel.

That was my opinion anyway, and my body always responded to her in kind, kicking my survival reflexes into high gear and sending me into an internal panic.

Her presence sent a wave of chills up my spine, activating my senses, heightening them. Fear stirred within me.

Belinda stepped into my room, the skirts of her flowing vintage dress skimming the fine carpet.

“I couldn’t help but hear you speak my name as I passed through the hall, Mara,” she said, her voice saccharin.

Seventeen years of listening to that syrupy voice right before she hit me and threw me into the basement to starve for days taught me to never trust it.

My mind raced to find an excuse—any excuse—any reason to throw her focus off me. “I…I was just—”

“Respect is a lesson that can be hard to learn for the dim-witted,” she cut in. Standing tall, she ran a finger across my dresser. “A lesson that I will continue to work on teaching you as best as I can.”

I shut my mouth and averted my gaze to the floor, bowing my head, “I’m sorry, Mother. I only—”

“ Don’t call me that,” her voice sliced through, stern and sharp. “Let it slip again, and you might find yourself with more than broken fingers this time.”

My heart skittered as I wrapped my fingers into themselves in front of me, hiding them from view. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, but felt a sense of relief when her attention shifted away from me.

“Chelsea, such a misfortune for you, my dear, to be cursed with that mess of hair. It also seems that those unkempt curls are a perfect representation of your intelligence, for I don’t think I have ever had the displeasure of meeting anyone who cannot seem to dress themselves properly.”

I glanced at Chelsea. Her hair, though in the bun as required by all maids of the house, looked as though she hadn’t even bothered to brush it.

Ringlets stuck out, loose hairs dancing in the air, and a lopsided bun was evidence that she couldn’t have cared less.

Her uniform, a long-sleeved, full-length black dress with a white apron, was wrinkled as though it hadn’t seen an iron in all its life.

“No doubt your inability to dress yourself played a role in your Initiation assignment as a maid.” Belinda inhaled deeply, causing her nostrils to flare as her eyes pierced through the redhead. “Of course, it still baffles me why you were given such an honor as to be placed in my household.”

I reverted my eyes to the ground, wanting to draw as little attention to myself as I could. It didn’t work.

“Of course, a maid is only as competent as her mistress. Come now, Mara, do you also suffer from a lack of intelligence?”

I winced, closing my eyes. “No, ma’am.”

“Look at me when you address me, Mara.”

I gulped, lifting my head slowly, eyes catching the look of disdain she didn’t even try to hide. “I…I said no, ma’am.”

And then I saw it, the shift in her eyes, like a predator locking sight on its prey. “Perhaps if I punish you , then you will be more motivated to instruct your staff in proper dress and manners. After all, I am not nearly as forgiving as you . Isn’t that right?”

My eyes opened wide as the image of the basement flashed through my mind, causing my heart to pound. And then I felt it—desperation.

“It’s not my fault,” I began defending myself.

“I’ve been trying to tell her, but she doesn’t listen to me.

” I was pleading now, and as much as I hated giving Belinda the satisfaction of seeing me squirm, I didn’t want to get locked in the basement.

Not again. Not after the last time. I couldn’t…

I wouldn’t . My survival instinct kicked in, and I did the only thing I could think of to possibly —just maybe —save myself.

“I-I think she’s doing it on purpose,” I accused, pointing at Chelsea.

A devilish smile crossed Belinda’s rosy lips. “ On purpose , you say?” Her attention shifted back to the maid like a raptor. “I see. Well, we can’t have that, my dear, now can we?”

I stole a glance at Chelsea. Her body was stiff as a board, but her eyes slid to meet mine, and they spoke three simple words: I hate you. Although she had been driving me crazy ever since she was assigned to me, I couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt.

But I warned her.

I tried to get it through her head that she had to shape up. It wasn’t my fault…was it?

Belinda lifted her arm, pulling back her sleeve to reveal her sleek, black mini-tab attached to her wrist. It was the latest and most advanced smartwatch technology and everyone in Telvia was required to have one.

Pressing a button on the side of the device, she spoke into it, her voice syrupy in its sickly sweetness.

“Joseph, our newest help needs some correction, it would seem. She will report to you momentarily. Could you take care of it for me?”

“Of course, mistress,” a voice reported back.

“Thank you.” Her smile deepened as she returned her attention to Chelsea. “There we go, my dear. All taken care of. We will have you presentable in no time at all. Report down to Joseph. He will assist you in your… reeducation .”

I watched as Chelsea’s rebelliousness faltered, overcome by fear. She glanced at me again, but I couldn’t hold her stare this time. I looked away, unsure of what I was feeling. All I heard was her whisper an acknowledgement to Belinda, and then her footsteps walking away.

Cautiously, I looked back to my stepmother.

She gave me that same devilish smile as she arched a manicured eyebrow.

“Don’t be late for dinner tonight.” I gulped.

The eyebrow slid back into place and she left my room.

A few seconds ticked by when a gentle ache stung in my chest. I exhaled, realizing that I had been holding my breath.

Slowly, my heart rate returned to normal, and the fear seeped out of me, leaving me exhausted once again.