[CONTENT NOTE: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.]
She opened her eyes, and it began.
“Good morning, sweetheart! Eight hours exactly!”
She was already crying, but no one seemed to notice.
“I’ve made you a light, healthy breakfast, and I’ve warmed the shower for you.”
She sat up slowly. She’d expected it to be bad, but… not like this.
“You’re looking really good today, baby!”
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her thighs. They were now more toned than she’d ever dreamed they could be. Prettier, yes, but also stronger. Inviting and propulsive and sleek; everything she ever wanted. She bitterly glared at them through her tears.
“Here are your vitamins and supplements, and a little cool water to wash them down!”
She swallowed both in quick succession, and then padded silently to the bathroom. As had become his habit of late, he stood outside the shower and watched as she bathed. If he felt she was scrubbing too hard, he would intervene and insist she wash gently but thoroughly. He timed her application of conditioner with a stopwatch. And he inspected her as he softly dried her with a towel. She’d never dreamed she could feel so worthless.
“Okay, I’ve queued up your music, and the lights will shift to guide you through your meditation. Just breathe and enjoy, honey!”
Manufactured tranquility washed over her, and she wished —not for the first time— that she could drown in it. Anything would be better than drifting, lost in something warm, enveloping, and mysteriously hostile. A whispering choir in her headphones hissed to her of harmony and health, but her only answer was a pattern of choked sobs that would pass for measured breathing to anyone watching.
“Five more miles! Don’t you dare look tired yet! You can do it, I believe in you!”
Her afternoon in the gym was never pleasant, but it too was getting worse. He’d always enjoyed hurting her and then mocking her pain, but this was… this was diabolical. The miles flew by as she labored under the lash of his affirmations.
“Wow. That was wonderful. Just wonderful. Play it again!”
She’d never imagined playing violin, back when he signed her up for lessons. And yet there she was, playing, and then watching him smile and cheer. His applause was the worst. All she ever wanted in the world, the most precious resource in existence, offered enthusiastically… and she couldn’t enjoy it. Every clap of his hand was a percussive omen of blows yet to be borne.
“Your calves are tight, but we’ll get them nice and relaxed in no time!”
His hands moved over her body with a thorough confidence that was both reassuringly familiar and increasingly contemptuous. His touch had once been a clutching, clawing, clamoring thing, meant to pull her in and never let her go; now it was the kneading of a dutiful baker, preparing a doughy loaf for the window. She let her little sounds of despair die deep in her throat where he couldn’t hear them; he might decide she was still tense and start over.
“So you’re all showered, brushed, and tucked in… good end to a good day, pumpkin! Get yourself some shut-eye and be ready to be great again tomorrow! Night night!”
She was almost asleep when she heard him later, outside her door. Where he didn’t need to be. On a call she didn’t need to overhear. She sighed with relief. Not at what he said —which made her want to vomit— but at the sound of his old voice, his true voice.
“Oh, it’s going well. You know how it is… just another day of preparing my cattle for market.”
She wished so much that she hadn’t disappointed him. She truly did.
