Chapter Eight-1

2835 Words

Chapter Eight While Annabelle waited to be escorted to slave quarters, she sat on a hard, wooden chair, with her hands bound behind her back. She stared forlornly at the waxed and immaculate floor around her bare feet, frequently shifting her weight, trying to find some small area of her butt that would allow her to sit without severe pain. She had no more energy left for pleading. She looked up at Doctor, viewing her as a pretty, brainwashed, robotic…what was it? Stepford Wife. Clean, beautifully coiffed, and completely deferential to Sir from all outward appearances. The absolute picture of obedience. Annabelle huffed quietly. Obedience. What a disgusting word. Annabelle realized she couldn’t hate her. Doctor had been nothing but kind to her, really. But how could a thinking, feelin

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