The past few days have been- odd, to say the least. Honestly though, what would you call normal anymore? Is it something one can really label another with? What is routine for me is so unlike anything you've ever seen before. You'd be afraid.

Every night, I am awoken by Lance letting us out of our room. We are fed a small meal in which we are forced to eat on the kitchen floor. After that, if Lance has special orders, he gives them and then we are sent on our way.

We clean every single room. This includes dusting, mopping, scrubbing, etc. We must clean until every nook and cranny in the room is completely spotless. No exceptions whatsoever. Marcy inspects, fixes what needs fixing, and then we move on to the next room.

I don't have a problem with the work itself. What I have a problem is Marcy. She's a bitch. Even though she, too, is working, she's still watching me from the corner of her eye. She waits until I make any mistake, or does something insignificant that isn't the way she wants it done. If she catches me, or whatever she'd call it, she growls and smacks my head, showing me with her hands how she does it. It's annoying! I can get the job done just as efficiently with the way I do it!

After we do everything, we go eat our last meal which has been set out for us on the mini bar that borders the living room and the kitchen. Marcy always gets the larger portion. It doesn't matter how little the difference is, she will still take the bigger portion or take some of mine.

..One thing that I do find particularly interesting is that no one is allowed upstairs. Not even go near. Not even Marcy is allowed to clean up there...

It's such a coincidence that Lance's room is on the 2nd floor, or is the whole 2nd floor. Well, maybe I should be glad he doesn't make us clean up there. I honestly don't want to have to clean up a dead body or some sex toys. Fucking eww.

Though from looking them from afar, it seems like there is a window up there. Nearing dawn, light is let in and filters down through the spiral staircase onto the 1st level where Marcy and I are kept.

Speaking of windows, I'm not allowed to touch the curtains either. Again, if I try, Marcy immediately goes ape shit and rushes over to strike me.

One of these days, though...

One of these days, I'm going to get tired of being bullied and strike back. Mark my words.