Chapter 2: Is That All You Can Say For Yourself?
Morning came, I wanted to believe the last week was a bad dream; I wanted to believe I was a little girl in bed in my mother's house. But I wasn't, it might've just been a few weeks ago but it was literally a different life; I don't think I can ever go back.
Farah was still here, I almost mistook her warmth for something loving and comforting, but then in this house how can you tell the difference.
"Your new role suits you, your skin and your eyes mark you as a slave."
"You don't really mean that, I don't believe for one minute you're actually a racist, you're just hateful bitch."
"Oh, is that really something you want to say knowing your situation?"
"Would that change anything? You'll do whatever you want no matter what."
"Good point; I like this side of you."
Farah embraced me, it sent my anxiety rocketing but I didn't dare pull away, I knew she was looking for any excuse to, what the hell am I talking about, she doesn't need an excuse and she said so herself, she's completely erratic and would do whatever she wants whenever she wants as long as it's funny.
"Don't ever be afraid to speak your mind sweetie, really you're at the point where it won't make a difference one way or the other, might as well enjoy yourself while you can, let go of that filter and be free. Trust me it does wonders for your self-esteem."
The day's barely started and already I wish it were over, why didn't I just let the sun take me when I had the chance?
I wanted to leave and get as far away from Farah as I could, but it was a useless gesture because I knew I had nowhere else to go. Not even in this house did I have anywhere to go, Veronica wouldn't let me back in and I think Farah would just follow me around like some kind of dog waiting to get a laugh and just to piss me off, because she knows I can't fight back so nothing is too cruel or petty or childish for her.
"I need to bathe."
"Why? All that dried blood in your hair? Please don't, it's so tasty, how about we give you an impromptu haircut and make literal angel pasta out of the remains."
"I can't imagine you'd find that enjoyable, hair is unpalatable and someone of your refinement can't possibly get pleasure out the hair of a filthy peasant like me."
"Oh sweetie where have you been, it's not about the thing itself it's about the spiritual energy behind it. Psychological symbolism is my meat and drink, hurting you is literally a delicacy to me."
Don't cry again, don't let her see your tears.
"I'm going to bathe, don't follow me."
"Who do you think you are little missy? Did you forget the rules? You're the lowest on the totem pole, remember? You don't do anything without our permission, and you most certainly don't give orders!"
I lowered my head and my voice, I tried my best to keep from shaking, I knew what would happen if I didn't act submissive and scared. It was easy to act that way when I really was afraid, possibly more than when I was still mortal.
"What do you want me to do? You don't want me to bathe?"
"Of course I want you to bathe, look at yourself! You're a disgrace!!"
She was right, maybe I was so desensitized by the insanity and trauma of everything that happened the night before, but only now did I realize that my body had been through so much I'd be dead if I were still human. My hair matted with sweat, blood, bone and grey matter, my face streaked with blood from the crying, my groin and thighs caked with urine, blood, cum and maybe a little bit of faeces.
Yeah I was a mess, and as twisted and sick as these women were I think this would definitely turn them off. Or maybe it would turn them on, I honestly don't know if they have any limits.
"You're getting in that bath little missy, and I'm joining you. You're going to spick and span and I will personally make sure of it."
"Of course you are."
--*---
Stupid bitch had it coming, this is all her fault.
I hate her, I gave her everything! EVERYTHING!! I gave her the fucking world on a silver platter and she spits on me, and not in the fun way either.
She deserves this, all of this she brought on herself, she's the bad one not me.
Mama sees that, mama knows that! She loves me! She chose me! She's not going to throw me away over this! I can't be thrown out again, I can't be left on the street again, I can't go back to sucking people off for room and board!
Emily's the bad one, she's the problem, I have to make them see that, as long as they see that mama won't blame me. I brought her into this house, I begged them for a puppy and I left her shit on the rug.
I have to show them, I'm a good girl, I did nothing wrong, Emily's the one at fault not me. She's a filthy fucking rat, a filthy fucking traitor, they'll see and love me again. It'll be just like the good old days; I just need a scapegoat.
----*-----
Was she always this strong? I don't remember her being this strong. Am I that exhausted? Shouldn't I be stronger? What happened to me? I feel so weak.
Farah dragged me to the bathtub by the arm, her hand had an iron grip on my bicep that was impossible to break. She pulled me with an irresistible strength, I was being pulled towards the bathtub like a child being guided by an impatient parent.
Farah marched me to the empty tub and told me to get in, I assumed she wanted me to start the water running too but snapped at me when I touched the faucet.
"No! Not yet, raise your arms above your head."
"Why?"
"What do you care why, do as I say or you go back to down to the dungeon again, and this time we'll bring in blow torches."
She wasn't bluffing, even if they grew back, I didn't want to risk my toes or any other part of my body. I lifted my arms above my head letting her get a good look at my unobscured body. She looked me up and down, scrutinizing me like a piece of meat, but not lie last time; the look on her face wasn't sadistic, playful, gleeful or lustful like it was in the past. This was the gaze of a sociopath, a pure calculating predator; I have never felt more frightened and vulnerable in my entire life than I do right now.