Routine

It was the same routine every night. Routine was very important. Without the proper routine, bad things happened.

I would wash my face with anti-acne make up remover. Then I needed to moisturize with the anti-wrinkle repair cream. If I didn’t wash my face and moisturize I would break out and get horrible wrinkles.

After brushing my teeth I would braid my hair to keep it from snarling into a mass of frizz and fro in the morning. All of this was very important because proper hygiene lead to clean living.  I would call Emma to the room and lay myself down in my bed. Carefully she tightened each of the restraint cuffs on my ankles and wrists.

This last step was very important. When my mind let go of the control of my body, my other self would rise. A self that dreamed of terrible things, of lustful romps and dirty thoughts. I couldn’t, no I wouldn’t, let that self have control. Not since that last time, oh no.  The last time I slept without the security of the restraints I saw the other self for what she was. A brazen hussy. No, routine was very important. Routine kept me safe.

— — — — — — — —

It was the same routine every night. She really thought these restraints would hold me. She was such a pathetic loser. Given how agile my mouth was, all I had to do was grab the wrist strap with my teeth and pull it up once and pop open the catch. Then a little twisting and I was free. I slipped out of her flannel night-gown and into something a little less. She had of course thrown the lock across the door. Like that would keep me in. Pathetic and scared, huddling in her flannel night-gown, afraid of all we are.

Throwing up the window I take a deep breath. The dark night sky is like the call of a carnival song to my soul. I leap from the window ledge, my fingers brushing the stars and laugh. My arms cushion against the air currents and I drift to the ground softly. I am hungry tonight. So very hungry.

A car screeches to a stop at my feet. Talk about being in the right place at the right time. Dinner arrives in a car full of young boys. Their loud cat call and whistle pierced the night and I worry they would wake Emma. I glance to the house and saw the lights stay off. She could sleep through a hurricane.

They offer me a ride. Pathetic, yet oh so sweet. I accept. A young firm hand slides along my thigh and I suggest a nice little hotel. It was the same routine every night. A girl like me has got to eat. And these boys were all muscle, no fat. Protein was on the menu tonight.

— — — — — — — —

My eyes feel tired and swollen, the light to bright to allow me any form of focus, visually or mentally. I went to bed early last night. I don’t understand why I never get a good nights sleep. I blink slowly and wait for the wall to focus. My morning routine is off. Where is Emma. She should be in here by now to let me up. I hear voices down the hall. Who is in my home at this hour of the morning?

“I tell you officers, you can not be right. My mistress is not the women you seek.” Emma threw up the door and said, “I have not let her up from bed yet. See! She cannot be this women you describe.”

“Emma, what is the meaning of this. I am not covered. I am in my bed robe. How dare you bring men into my bedroom. I am a lady!” I can not believe she allowed them in to my room like this. Stupid Immigrant. Next time I will hire someone from Russia. They have a proper respect for rules and routine.

“Mistress Mariam, the police say you killed some boys, that you was seen. I knew they was wrong. How could she kill them if I have not let her up?” Emma set about releasing my straps.

“Emma, show these gentlemen from my room. I will receive them downstairs in the pallor once I am decent.” What had that hussy done this time! Well at least I had an alibi. Emma was here all night, and I was tied to my bed. Alas, I would have to explain the straps. Ah well, fitful dreams and sleep walking should do it. Thank god for my routine. No one would know if the hussy was responsible. Routines keep me safe.

I could hear those awful police men walking down the hall, mocking me. “If I had a dime for each time I found a broad tied to a bed as an alibi. I’d have… well hell… a dime. That’s a new one on me sarge.”

Slipping from my sheets I notice, Emma did not shutter the windows. How many times have I told her to shutter the windows. “Emma, close the windows please. You know how sensitive I am to sunlight dear. I do wish you would remember these things.”

“But I didn’t open them Mistress. I know’d you don’t like them open” I don’t know why she has to lie about everything little thing. Really, I must look into a Russian maid. They know how to keep order.

— — — — — — — —

Original Written on T10 as a three part response to the following prompts

— — — — — — — —

On Location, Monday: The right place; the right time

Take It Away, Tuesday: It was the same routine every night.

Words, Inc, Wednesday: (1) wall, (2) dime, (3) right, and (4) me

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