He couldn’t make me. There had to be a line somewhere, some indignity I wouldn’t cross. It was a silly place to resist. It was just a sweater, aft...r all, but it was My sweater. Call me silly or sentimental, I still would fight. Oh, but it hurt. That creeping, clawing unhappiness wormed and writhed fitfully beneath my skin. So wrong to fight it. That sweater needed to be destroyed. I slipped. Just one little moment of weakness and the shears seemed to leap out on their own. A gash appeared down. I thought for a quick rest and start the next session.But I soon slept into a deep sleep. When I woke up next day, it was already 12 in the noon. I searched for her in the clat but couldn’t find her. So I checked the kitchen and saw the note for me. It was written “Hey Niya, get ready for the next adventure. Your food is in the fridge. After eating, get a bath and wear new dresses in the wardrobe. Dress as slutty as you can, and wear the wig. I will be there at 5 o clock.’So i wasted no time. More

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