SHE

I did not particularly like being called a wuss, but I hated it even more now that it was coming from me, a drunk me, but me nonetheless, it was my subconscious calling me a wuss anyway.

My own handwriting mocked me as I stared at the sheet of paper. I could almost see me drunk laughing at sober me, along with the rest of the world. Gregory’s words float back to me. Robot. Fresh clay. No thoughts of my own.

I grab a pen and sign on top of my old signature, he watched me with a raised brow,

“It was already signed, was there any need to do that?”

I eye the piece of paper that held thee fresh signature, and the clause in my own handwriting that mocked me. I ordinarily would not have signed it, seeing as the contract stated a few things I was not sure I was comfortable with, like the fact that it states Abed, the Dom, was in charge of everything that concerned me from henceforth, and that included how I dressed, how I responded to him, how I lived, when I went to bed, everything.

And