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“I don’t negotiate with emotional terrorists,” he answers. “Now come.”
I follow him from the bed because I have no choice. He has a hold on the other end of the chain-link leash attached to my collar, and fighting him at this point will only result in more pain for me.
I try to remember why I’m doing this. It’s impossible to forget his threat against Solana and Georgie. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept when he stops and points at the floor.
“Kneel.”
I meet his gaze, steeling mine as I slowly drop to the floor and do his bidding.
“Good,” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on my head. “That’s good, little monster.”
For a moment, I can’t help closing my eyes and allowing myself to feel the warmth of his touch. It’s the comfort I need, even if it’s from the same man who’s making me suffer. But all too soon, it’s gone again.
“Now crawl.” He gives the leash a gentle tug, and I lurch forward with no choice but to follow his command.
I’m not sure what to expect or what he’s going to make me do, but when he opens the bedroom door, and I see Miriam standing there, I really just want to die. He nods at her, and her eyes sparkle with satisfaction when she sees that I’ve been quite literally brought to my knees before her.
I want to spit at her. I want to fucking scream. But I keep repeating the mantra in my head. Georgie and Solana. I’m doing this for them.
“You’re going to spend some time in Miriam’s shoes today,” Judge informs me as he leads me down the hall with the bitch at my heels. “Perhaps it will make you learn to respect what she does for you.”
My anger feels like a hot poker in my chest, stabbing me over and over again as I crawl along the floor like a dog without an ounce of dignity left. I don’t have to look at Miriam to know how much she’s enjoying this. I can feel her gaze boring into the back of my skull.
Judge leads me into my bedroom, and then to the adjoining bathroom. He nods to Miriam again, and she steps around me, staring down at me like I’m the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. She produces a raggedy-looking toothbrush and a pair of gloves, which she reluctantly hands over. Judge’s doing, I’m guessing. I’m sure if it were up to her, she’d probably make me lick the floor clean.
“You can start with the toilet,” she says, her tone haughty. “Don’t skimp on the scrubbing.”
Judge drops the leash from his hand, and it clinks against the floor as I stare at them both incredulously.
“You want me to clean the toilet with a toothbrush?”
“Details matter,” Miriam chirps. “Everything needs to be spotless.”
My gaze moves to the toothbrush, and for a moment, I wonder how it would feel to make her choke on it. But then I remember why I’m here. I despise Miriam with every part of my being. There’s no debating that. But my hatred of her doesn’t outweigh the love I have for my friends. I have to keep telling myself that as I crawl toward the toilet and peek over the bowl.
There’s already some blue cleaning solution in there, so at least there’s that. Despite what they may think, this isn’t the first time I’ve ever cleaned a toilet. I did my fair share of cleaning in boarding school when I got mouthy. But I’ve never had to clean anything with a toothbrush.
Regardless, I get to work because I just want to get it over with. I scrub the bowl for a solid ten minutes, and when I think I’m done, Miriam is quick to point out areas she wants me to redo. Meanwhile, Judge watches on in silence, and my resentment of him only grows.
When I’m finished with the toilet, she makes me wipe down the exterior with a cloth and then hands me another toothbrush and a bucket of soapy water for the floor. That takes me at least a full hour to clean because Miriam won’t shut her goddamn piehole about invisible specks of dirt she claims exist.
I’m shaking with bottled-up rage by the time I finish the bathroom, but it doesn’t end there. Next, they drag me to the kitchen, where I’m put on dishes and floor duty again. When that’s done, she makes me polish all of Judge’s shoes, and then to my horror, hers. Just when I think it might finally end, I’m told I have to clean her bathroom, which is truly fucking disgusting. It’s obvious she’s waited the entire week for this, and there’s piss all over the tile floor that makes me wonder if she even bothered using the toilet.
I’m on the verge of tears by the time I finally finish, but I don’t let them fall. I won’t let them see that they’ve won. I feel disgusting, humiliated, and beat down. All I want to do is crawl into the shower and then bed. But nothing with Judge is ever that simple.
“Now, tell her how sorry you are,” he says. “Tell her how much you appreciate everything she does for you here.”
I stare up at him with flamethrowers for eyes, wishing I could fucking strangle him right now. But I have to bite my tongue. If I can just do this one last thing, I’ll be done, and then I can get back to figuring out how the hell to get out of this place.
“I’m sorry you wound up with two black eyes.” I grit the words out as I glare up at Miriam. “I appreciate all that you do. The food, really, is top-notch. Michelin Star, I’d go as far as saying—”
“Mercedes.” Judge gives me a warning, but it’s cut off by his phone ringing.
He glances at the screen and then at me. “I have to take this. Don’t move.”
I watch him walk into the adjoining bedroom, where he’s still in view but out of earshot. Miriam’s lips curl into a wicked smile, and she cocks her head to the side, staring down at me as if she’s examining a bug.
“How did those words taste coming out of your mouth?”
