Reparative Pal Program Nine

Well, I’m vaguely sure that we’re doing something sort of therapeutic. Though the way that John goes about it doesn’t feel right. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is meant to help you deal with stressful situations and other things. The other things I can’t remember are off the top of my head right now. As I’m not entirely sure if I’m even remembering what was supposed to happen at all. I suppose in a way that this would help me practice with stressful situations. How to deal with someone that wants to own you like a damn animal is one. Keeping said person happy is probably part of that. This has been something that’s been easier said than done. Ever since I woke up, he’s been a bit…difficult.

We have been in a huge room that he calls the ‘activity room’ for most of the day. At least since six in the morning. I’m not too sure what time it is now. Or how long it has really been since we started this part of the therapy. It’s this planning thing that he said I needed to try. So that way I can plan things that I ‘can’ do. Though I’m damn sure that I’m not going to be doing any of this stuff at all. Since I would have to be around my ‘friend’ for a long time. Doing whatever they are going to be on their schedule. I’m sure that this isn’t how we’re supposed to be doing any of this. I’ve been under the impression that it involves…well, real therapy. Like being able to realistically schedule things that I can do. Things that I would love to be able to do. At least, I might have been able to do this when I was free. Free from not only the Woodrow Clinic as well as John. But free from the whole United States if I could only have afforded a plane ticket. Possibly gotten a better passport as well if I could. Though I vaguely remember that some people who are transgender as well did not have an ability to get one. Thanks to everything that the autarch had put into place. That meant none of us in the community had any means to get free. If I could have gotten free from the country a year sooner, then I would have been free. But I’m not giving up on escaping this situation if I keep myself calm and keep John happy. Which includes keeping my face calm looking. If I looked upset, then John would get angry with me. Or worse.

He would cause me physical harm.

He hasn’t just yet, but he’s come close to doing it a few times. In the past few hours, he’s lifted his arm up like he’s going to slap me. Or punched the wall near my head. And it hasn’t even been a full day since I’ve been in his care. It started when I didn’t act the exact way that he wanted me to act. Like not being as feminine or as submissive as he believes that I should be. Not speaking when he wanted me to speak. All of this has been an exhausting day for me. I suppose it has been for both of us. Though mostly for me with everything that has been happening. Pretending to be someone that would make my mom proud of me. No matter what John is thinking, this acting gig has been the hardest for me alone. It feels like I’m slipping into a too tight suit that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to take off.

I prayed that I did as I continued to write on the paper that John gave me. He has been staring at me for the past ten minutes or so. Watching me do the exercise as we had been doing for around an hour now. It was something that I started to really get tired of as I sat here. Since this has been the third schedule that I’ve had to write out. As the other two he has read, hated, and tore into miniscule pieces. Tossing each of the letters on the floor as John said they weren’t good enough for the exercise. But not giving me any form of criticism other than that I hadn’t written anything good at all. Snapping at me as he glared deep into my eyes as he spat out the words. It disturbed me both times he did it. And I’ve glanced down at the heap of papers that he had torn into confetti sized pieces around us. Each time I frowned, John gave me the worst glare that I had ever gotten from anyone in my whole life. Which is really something when you have a religious Midwestern and homophobic mother. Keeping my face neutral as I can, I barely glanced down at the bad schedules that I had made. Wishing that John could have told me what I had done wrong while I started fixing the new schedule.

All I hoped for was this new one was going to be seen as right in John’s eyes. Since it’s a list of things that I normally do in a day. Which is turning off an alarm clock in the middle of the morning. Go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Then shave, shower, and get dressed. Soon as I’m out of the bathroom all I have got to do is make a nice breakfast. Which had been just some cereal with a cup of coffee. Or if I was trying to lose weight it would be a cup of yogurt with a large bottle of water. It wasn’t the best breakfast, but it was good enough before work. Which is around nine hours. I only have a protein bar at work. As I don’t get that hungry during my work hours. When I get off work, I make dinner. Just a small bowl of chili that I made in a slow cooker the weekend before. And it’s usually good for about three or so days. Along with a cup of water and some crackers that I picked up at work. After I eat, I do yoga for a little while before I try to go to sleep. It’s normally around ten at night when I get to bed. That way I can be up in the morning and not feel like I hadn’t slept in five years or so.

Well, I suppose it really wasn’t a good schedule when I think about it.

Though it had worked for me when I wasn’t forced to come here for treatment. Forced to live with a creepy man that sees me lesser than an animal. Lesser than any form of inanimate object that he owned in his tiny home. Since I can’t convince him that I’m not less than him, I decided to add a few things to the schedule. Things that were going to be fun and removing the less than fun things that are in it. Like going to work. After all, I’m not able to go to work anymore so why bother scheduling going to work? It just wouldn’t be wise to write it down anymore. I quickly finish writing down the schedule as I look over at him with a faint smile. Trying to not to allow fear to show on my face when I saw the expression on his. There was this look of barely controlled anger across his features. It was almost as if he was holding back the urge to scream at me.

Just why is he so angry for?

Taking a deep breath, I held out the schedule for John to take from me. Chewing on my bottom lip anxiously as he nearly yanked it out of my hands. Sitting up a bit straighter as he started to read it. This look of suspicion on his face while he read it over. A deep frown on his face as he did so. It made my guts turn to ice as I watched him for a moment. Hoping that this one was going to be good enough for him. That he wasn’t going to be hurting me or threatening to hurt me over it. When a smile started to spread across his face, I relaxed. Nodding his head a little bit while his smile grew a little more. Calmly he set the paper down on the table as he turned to stare me in the eyes. Finally, I wrote something that passed whatever test that I needed to.

“There we go, Amelia. This one is so much better than your last one.”,John gushes. In a tone that was something that people used to use for dogs or cats when they were around. That had been irritating before this. Right now, I was starting to feel this weird sensation in my gut. A sort of odd warmth that I hadn’t felt before. But I pushed it down to the best of my ability. Not to allow it to show on my face either. Or allow any of this to mess with me. While I plastered this fake smile on my face as I looked between his eyes. Hating to stare someone in their eyes. Ever. But I knew that John wouldn’t be able to tell that I wasn’t really looking him in the eyes. Softly, I muttered,”Thank you, John. I really appreciate that.”

“Um. What are we going to be doing next?”,I requested. I’m doing my best to keep my tone light as humanely possible. As I didn’t want to anger him in the slightest bit. Just to keep him relaxed and calm. There’s the possibility that he could harm me without much thought about it. And I had this feeling that he wouldn’t face any repercussions when he does this. Not ‘if’ but ‘when’. Looking up at him, I had this feeling in my gut. This feeling that someday I might not be as lucky as I have been today. That he will harm me. But I hope that the twisted and cold feeling in my gut is just paranoid. That I’m just reading too deep into his expressions. And actions. So, I’m going to try and push these down to eat lunch. Which I’m starving for. As breakfast had been way too early in the morning for me. And I hope that he was going to get me something more than that super bland oatmeal that I had before. His breakfast was by far the most mouthwatering thing that I desperately wanted to have. In fact, it was so good that I was tempted to steal a bit of it for myself. The man had at least five pancakes on his plate. With eggs and bacon.

Really crispy bacon that I would have made for myself. It smelled so good that I wished that I had stolen at least one strip of it. As it was the one thing that I made for myself when I wanted to treat myself during the holidays. So good looking. His eggs were scrambled eggs with this shredded cheddar cheese on top. And he put a little hot sauce on it as well. Something that I also normally would do. He also put peanut butter on his pancakes along with his syrup. This was my all-time favorite breakfast when I wanted to treat myself. The fact that he likes the foods that I like makes me not want to eat them anymore. Or at least steal the stuff that he was eating and eat it in front of him to toy with him. Give him nothing or small amounts of food to show him how it feels to be so hungry while someone does that in front of you. Eating a ton of food that you might not ever be able to eat ever again.

It would serve him right.

I’m very sure that I wasn’t going to ever be able to eat as much as I would like. As I finally found out what they had done to my stomach. Last night, John explained to me that they had done to my stomach five months ago. They had stapled it. Like I anticipated they had done. It was one of the reasons I was getting full so easily. Why it didn’t feel so good as well. My guess is that the I.V might be the reason that I lost so much weight, too. Maybe. I know that this is weird to focus on so damn much. That there are things that I need to properly focus on. But I can’t help that I am starving right now. All I want is more to eat. Like maybe an apple or something. After all, they stapled my stomach to be small. It wouldn’t be wise to eat a ton of food with that. Though I wonder if those will ever be removed at some point. That way I can eat like a normal person. Knowing this place, I’m damn sure it won’t happen. Possibly it might have already happened and to slowly build up to eating some solid foods.

“Well, I definitely think that we need a little bit of a break.”,John stated. This was something that I could agree with him on. As I despised working on this idiotic schedule. Since it took up almost all my day and I hated it. While John stood up as he stretched his arms above his head. A small smile on his face as he stares down at me. Leaning a little bit over to me, he patted my head gently. Like I was some form of dog that he couldn’t help petting. It had made me uncomfortable before, but it started feeling less than that. Making me smile a tiny bit as he turned to walk away from me. Calmly, he explains,”I’m going to go get us lunch. I will be back in ten minutes.”

“Now don’t go anywhere, Chickpea.”,he teased, taking the pen from me. The tone of his voice made me want to stab him with that pen. Repeatedly. Until I’m sure that he’s dead. Or at least too injured to be able to recapture me. That might help if I stab him in the eye. I shove that idea down the best that I can. Since I’m still freaked out by how violent that I am in this moment. Watching him leave the room as I stared at my hands. Wondering why the Hell my brain has been so damn murderous lately. Yet here I was thinking of murdering…God, why am I still so surprised? I swear my brain isn’t allowing me to not think of anything else. I wish that my brain wasn’t difficult to work with right this moment. But it won’t stop. Rubbing my arms as I was grateful, the I.V was finally taken out the night that John took me home. Right out of ‘my room’ to John’s freaking bedroom that makes me uncomfortable. He had me sleeping at the foot of his bed. If I thought that the foam mat was horrific, this new ‘bed’ was worse. This thing that qualifies as a pet bed. In fact, I’m damn sure that it used to be one. And I really don’t want to know what kind of dog he used to own. As this thing was big enough for a grown adult to sleep on.

Well, I’m a short adult but still.

It’s not even all that soft either. The thing is barely firm enough for me to sleep on. Well, I didn’t sleep at all. As the damn thing wasn’t good enough for my back. Which hurts worse than when I was sleeping on that foam mat. Man, I never thought that would happen. Yet here I am. Stretching a little bit, I felt my back finally pop. A tiny smile came to my face as I stretched a lot more until my back felt somewhat better. Settling in the wheelchair as I leaned against the table in front of me. It was terrible while I stared at the top of the table. It wasn’t the worst part of this whole thing. The worst part of the whole thing was the fact that I didn’t even have any blankets or a pillow. Yeah, John not only made me sleep on a former dog’s bed. Without a pillow or a blanket. At least it was warm in his bedroom. That way I wasn’t freezing in the slightest bit. But it still pissed me off that I wasn’t given a pillow to help my neck out.

I wish he had given me at least one damn pillow.

Sure, the blanket that I had in ‘my room’ wasn’t all that great. It didn’t keep me all that warm. And sure, John’s room wasn’t cold. But for crying out loud I would have loved to have one. There’s just something weird about not sleeping with one. It’s silly to be upset over this. I really shouldn’t be thinking it over. Yet, I couldn’t help myself. My mind lingered on the way that he touched my stomach so weirdly. Doing this weird circle thing on it until I woke up for him. I’ve quickly concluded that I don’t want to be touched ever. Or at least not on my stomach by someone as big of an asshole as John is. Along with being woken up so damn early this morning. But he insisted that we get up at five in the morning. He also insisted that we do morning yoga together before he took a shower. Something that I really missed getting to do as I had stared at the door to it. When John was done with his shower, he forcibly bathed me. Putting me in a huge metal tub in the living room that I had seen only in movies. Washing me with loofas and washed my hair for me. It felt so uncomfortable when I leaned my head back. His hands were toying with my hair in ways that made me wish I could shave it all off. It was way worse than I thought it was going to be. As he scrubbed me way too hard, and my skin turned red afterwards.

It was just so…I can’t just waste my time on this whole thing. Overthinking the crappy bath that I had forced upon me. Along with the fact that I can’t eat as much food as I want to. That I’ll focus on later when I’m free from this Hellhole. I keep thinking of how I can get away from here. Glancing around the room without moving my head. Trying to see if I can find a way to escape in the future if I can. There are no windows in this room either. Which seems to be something that a lot of the rooms in the Woodrow Clinic have in common. But there are a lot more cameras in this room than there are in a lot of other rooms. Like the room that I had been stuck in. And I’m going to guess that this room is probably being more monitored as there are normally more people here. At least more than two or three at a time. So of course, they’re going to have more cameras to keep a better eye on the ‘wrong ones’. That way they can see every little thing we do that they deem to be a detriment to our recovery process.

‘Recovery’, yeah right. Either way it’s one of the reasons that getting that person from group out of here tricky. It’ll be hard but not impossible to manage. I’m not going to allow myself to be defeated by some cameras. I stare down at my hands as I start to think of how to do this right. First things first, I would have to escape John’s house and get a ride. By finding a car to hijack which could be tricky to successfully pull off. And I have no idea how to hotwire a car. Or by taking John’s car from him while he sleeps? Then there comes the problem of getting his keys from him. Along with how to get to his car in the first place. Going out the front door wouldn’t be the wisest decision in the world. Since the damn door creaks super loudly. And it would alert John to the fact that I was trying to escape him. So maybe going through a window would be for the best. Since I’m sure that I can easily get one open and get through. Hell, I’ll crawl out of a window if I absolutely must. From there I can go back to the Woodrow Clinic. Quietly look for that person that I had seen from group. The wheelchair user. Though that might need to wait until I finally get strength back in my legs. Maybe I could start walking again? That might help me a little bit. I’m not entirely sure if that could help me or not.

Having no phone to find this out makes things difficult. It makes finding a whole lot of things more difficult than they need to be. But I suppose not having my phone anymore is also a blessing. Since I can’t be tracked that easily. They haven’t put a tracking device inside our bodies thankfully. Otherwise, I would have to worry about digging for that in my own skin. Or cutting off pieces of myself to keep myself safe. Along with the other person that was in the group ‘therapy’. And I really don’t want to hurt them. I can handle hurting myself but not them. Soon as I get better, and I know I’m going to get better. I will be getting better and getting them out of the Woodrow Clinic. Then run off to wherever the Hell we can go. Finding a much better place than here. By any means necessary. I’m damn sure that there isn’t any place in the United States anymore that’s even safe around here. If only there was someone that could just take us out of the United States. I’m not entirely sure where we can go. And who can take us out of here. But I will have to find a way to get them out of the Woodrow Clinic first. It will probably take a little while to do so but I know that I’m going to find us a way away from here.

Like getting John’s keys first. Which I need to remember, where the Hell he put his keys when he gets home from work. As I can’t recall where he set them down last night. Or if he even left it out of his pockets last night. I’m sure that he had left his keys out of his pants. As sleeping with keys in your pocket isn’t exactly comfortable. And I know that well since I’ve done it on accident once in the past. And I doubt that John would ever be dumb enough to do that. He’s an asshole but he doesn’t seem like a dumb asshole. So that makes it somewhat easy. But it is not easy enough for me to be able to get it from him. If he doesn’t have the damn key on his person. Then where the Hell does he leave it at night?

He has a nightstand near the bed. Obviously. But I can’t recall if that’s where he leaves his car keys or if he leaves them downstairs. As I was exhausted yesterday and didn’t really pay that much attention to where he left his keys. I suppose I would just have to watch him like a hawk tonight to see where he leaves them. That way when I’m sure I’m well enough to escape his home, I’ll be able to steal it properly. That way I can get that person from the group out of the Woodrow Clinic in one way. If I could get them out of Alya’s office window and into the parking lot, it might work? Just got to figure out what room they’re in. As I noticed that the rooms for us ‘Companion Prisoners’ are marked with the woman and man symbol. Along with our temporary names that the Woodrow Clinic have given us. I don’t even want to know what kind of nickname I would get if I were ‘adopted’. My mind went to the creepy nicknames that I had heard from John about other ‘Companion Prisoners’. Some of them are food. One of them was ‘Pretty Boy’. Then he showed me a picture of this ‘Pretty Boy’ and it made me highly uncomfortable. This person looked like a trans teenager that wore a lot of blue clothes. They had super short dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. Which were the saddest eyes that I had ever seen in my life.

They vaguely reminded me of that person in the group’s eyes.

If I could figure out how to save that kid, too. I would. I really would. But for now, I’ve got to be able to save the people that I can help. As much as I feel bad for that poor kid, I know it isn’t feasible to be able to save them. Not right now. Maybe later if we have more numbers and the means to get more than myself. And that person from the group is out of here. Though I’m starting to think that I might not be able to do that either. Despite how much I want to. I’m starting to think that maybe I won’t be able to. Despite how much I want to shove the feelings of despair down, I can’t stop myself from being worried that I can’t. Taking a few deep breaths, I sighed as I wished that I could at least speak to this person. I am optimistic that I can save them but, I’m not entirely sure if I can. Being able to save someone else feels like a pipe dream the more that I think about it.

But still, I wish that I could help them.

Looking over at the door, I wonder how long it would be for John to come back. Along with what the food that I was going to be eating. Yesterday it was just some unseasoned chicken and beef. What was it going to be for lunch today? I’m slightly afraid that it’s going to be some nasty fish or something like that. I’m sure that the fish will be poorly made and probably smell terrible when I get it. It will also taste disgusting, and I will hate it. I only ever eat fish when my grandpa made it for me. The way that he makes fish taste is perfect. It’s breaded in his special mixture that I don’t know what it is.

He said it was a secret but I’m pretty sure that he just forgot what it was.

Part of me also wondered what the Hell John is going to be eating. If he was going to have lunch as good as breakfast. If so, then eating with him will be just as difficult as eating breakfast with him. It was something that I would have to fight the urge to steal his lunch. Since I’m sure that John would tease me with his food. Or give me a punishment for being disobedient towards him. My guess is it would be a punishment. I shouldn’t be thinking about food so damn much. Though I’m guessing that I’m not being able to get food that much is what was causing it. Sort of like when I was younger and was dieting a whole lot. All I could think about was how much I wanted to eat some food and watched T.V shows. Unfortunately, my mom had been kind of mocking me for having some ‘baby fat’. And telling me that I almost eat enough for a grown man. It was then I started to ‘diet’ until I was way too thin. That didn’t even worry my mom. Thankfully my grandparents cared enough to help me get better.

And get away from her as well.

This would be like that if it weren’t for the fact that I’m not intentionally starving myself. Along with the fact that I wasn’t anywhere near my mom anymore. I’m not even all that sure if my mom is alive anymore. As I cut off all contact when I turned nineteen. Also had to skip her parents’, my grandparents’, funeral. That was so heartbreaking for me. And it made things so damn difficult for me, too. I felt like a terrible grandchild at the time. My grandparents would understand why I had to wait until the next day to visit them. Since they knew what my mother was like. They probably wouldn’t have been too angry at me for not visiting them straight away. Unfortunately, our other relatives didn’t understand. They kept calling me, texting me, and a few emailed me. Some of them even got to me on Facebook. All of them telling me that I should have just sucked it up for my grandparents’ sake. That I was so terrible for not doing good by them. And one of my cousins had the nerve to tell me that I was going to Hell for it. It had gotten so bad that I had to delete my entire Facebook account. Hadn’t bothered with getting a new one. Instead, I just had a Tumblr for a little while. I miss having that when I had internet. The Internet was a whole lot better when it didn’t cost me an arm and a leg. At least it gave me an excuse not to be able to contact any of my crappy family members. None of them have my new phone number or know where the Hell I live either. Well, hadn’t known where I lived. They probably know where I am now thanks to the public being made aware of what I was. None of them have visited me either. Though I’m not sure if people are not allowed to visit us here or not.

I haven’t been bothered to ask any of the staff around here. Not like I would be getting a straight answer from any of them. They don’t really seem to want to talk to any of us ‘Companion Prisoners’ at all. Also, I just haven’t seen anyone get a visitor in the few days that I have been awake either. You would think I would recall seeing at least one person coming into the Woodrow Clinic. Maybe the ‘Right Ones’ aren’t allowed to come see us prisoners? I would think they would allow some of them to see us. Like the children. Scare them to be straight and be what their parents think they should be instead.

I am glad that they might not be allowed to see us. It would be somewhat scary for young kids to see folks like us. They didn’t need to see us like this. I’m pretty sure that these assholes will find a way to do it anyway. If not this month, then probably a few months from now. I’m not entirely certain of when it will happen. But I know it’s going to be in the future. Or I might be just paranoid about the whole thing. Shaking my head to rid myself of those thoughts I glanced around the room once more. A thought occurred to me as I realized that there wasn’t a clock in this room either. Just like there wasn’t one in the cafeteria or in ‘my room’. That seemed a bit odd to me. As I wondered if they were really trying to disorient us or not. This made me chew my bottom lip as I started to wonder if there was a clock anywhere in this place. It made me wish that I had my phone with me. At least then I would be able to know what time it was. A few moments later, I heard the door start to open once more. Smoothing my features into a calmer look as I glanced towards it. Watching John come in with two trays of food. He carefully managed to get into the room without dropping either of them and closed the door with his foot. The smell of something weird makes my stomach twist a little bit as he got closer. On my tray there was a small portion of cooked fish. Though the way that it looked it seemed to be boiled.

Which is rather disgusting in my opinion.

There were poorly seasoned vegetables that looked like they had been steamed. Possibly been steamed. Along with a small portion of green grapes. My least favorite kind of fruit. At least it wasn’t something that I’m allergic to. Though I wish I was slightly allergic to the fish so that I don’t have to eat it. Something tells me that they would still make me eat it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any rice this time around. Or even a small bread roll either. I did get a slightly big cup of skim milk like the other times. If I weren’t trying to keep John happy, I would be sort of annoyed with it. When I looked down at his tray, I got a little jealous. His food looked a whole lot better and healthy than my food does.

There was a generous portion of delicious looking steak. I couldn’t tell if it was medium rare or not, but I still wanted it so badly. Since it was seasoned perfectly as well. God, I missed being able to eat that kind of thing. Along with the mashed potatoes that were a huge mound on his plate. There was also beef gravy on top of it. There were also some roasted asparagus on the same plate. It looked so good that I wished I could have some. My stomach gurgled as I tried to tear my gaze from his wonderful food. It was difficult but I managed to do this as I started eating the poorly made food that I was given. This wasn’t all that great, but I did my best to not show my distaste for the overly plain food. It wasn’t great but it was much better than nothing. Though I wondered why this time I didn’t have bread or rice this time around.

It was kind of odd but, I didn’t dare ask John about it. Since I feared it wouldn’t end all that well if I did ask him. And I just poked at my fish with my plastic fork for a little while. It was hard to want to keep eating it as I stared down at it. When I took one bite of it, I started to regret it. The taste wasn’t too terrible, but it wasn’t good either. We both ate in relative silence. Which made me really miss being able to listen to music. Or getting to watch a movie. Having them was better at keeping me from being able to think all that much. Since my thoughts were overriding everything in my head. I missed my CD player. Along with my T.V and DVD player. Along with all the movies that I had as well. They cost me quite a pretty penny on Amazon as well. They were so nice to watch and listen to while eating my food. It was also really relaxing when I needed to relax before bed.

Halfway through eating my food, I noticed that John was starting to scoot closer to my wheelchair. The noise from his chair almost made me frown as I kept eating my fish. Not trying to give him any form of attention as I just wanted to eat. A second later, he stopped scooting so close to me. And then he pulled me out of my wheelchair before I could do anything. Settling me on his lap with a small smile on his face. Which nearly made me grit my teeth in annoyance at his arms being wrapped so tight around me. I did my best to keep calm as I kept eating my dinner. As I didn’t want John to punish me over this. Doing my best to not react as he set his fork down and petting my sides in a gentle manner. This was rather difficult for me to not do as I sat on his overly warm lap. It was more uncomfortable than I anticipated it being. His hands felt weird against the sides of my body, and I kept eating. And to the best of my ability, I managed to not act as uncomfortable as I was feeling. It lasted for a few minutes before he picked up his fork again. Starting to eat that wonderful food that I wanted to steal from him. Feeling more and more tempted to do that. Looking at the steak, I wished that I could have it. It was something that I hadn’t had been able to afford in at least ten years.

I missed tasting a steak as good looking as this one. Which I realized was medium rare when he cut into it. My favorite.

When we finally finished eating the food, John settled his chin on the top of my head. Pulling my back flush to his chest. His hand rested on my stomach as he slowly started rubbing it in small circles. Despite myself I quickly found my body start to relax against him. Maybe it was thanks to my stomach being so tense. Or rather I was just desperate to have some touch that wasn’t painful. Like being hit or something like that. As I sat in his lap, I stared at the empty trays that once held our food. It was difficult to not want to snag that metal fork and stab John in the face with it. While we laid together, he whispered,”You’re such a good girl, Amelia. Such a good, sweet, and submissive little lady for me.”

“And if I play my cards right, Alya might let me just keep you.”,he added. His tone sent a cold shiver of fear down my spine. The idea of being in John’s house didn’t really appeal to me. And I hoped that I would be able to escape his horrible house soon. Being forced to sleep on that damn dog bed really hurt my back. I can’t imagine myself sleeping on it for the rest of my natural life. However long that was going to be. And how knew with how people treated their ‘Companion Prisoners’ around here. Most folks treated them like they were nothing. I suppose to the public they are now not real human beings. Just animals that are people shaped. But I wasn’t going to allow myself to become one of them. Never going to allow that to happen to the other person from our group ‘therapy’. No one deserves that kind of thing. Nuzzling my head, John added,”I might even change your name as well. I think Chickpea has really suited you so far.”

“I might request that you have this as your new official name when you’ve graduated from the program.”,he promised. That was disturbing to me, and I did my best to not reach for the metal fork in front of me. Knowing full well that I was going to be punished severely if I even tried to touch it. My stomach twists inside of me as he continues to pet and cuddle me. Part of me hopes that I can get my plans into motion soon. Otherwise, I don’t think that I’ll be able to leave as easily as I want to.