Two weeks later…
It’s routine now – my imprisonment.
I wake up to groceries on the table and a list of chores. I make my breakfast first and then I do them. I’m not sure why; there really is no incentive for me to do so. It’s not like Fred can punish me any more than he already has. What’s he going to do? Beat me? r**e me?
I guess I do them out of spite. He probably expects me to disobey him, so I follow his instructions to a T.
I sweep, I mop, I do the dishes, clean the counter, clean the sink. I even do his laundry. I stuff pieces of cotton into my nose when I do so I don’t inhale his scent. Even now, as much as I hate him, it still awakens something inside me that, as hard as I try, I cannot suppress.
I take a late-morning and late-afternoon walk around the property. I stay close e
