What they really brought was oversight. Pressure. And a new audience for Daniel’s cruelty.
At exactly 5:00 a.m., the door slammed open.
The lights snapped on.
“Get up, you lazy cow!” Daniel screamed.
“Do you think being pregnant makes you a queen? Get downstairs and cook for my parents NOW!”
I pushed myself up on shaking arms. “Daniel… it’s five in the morning. I’m dizzy—”
He ripped the blanket off me like he was stripping away my right to exist.
Cold air hit my skin.
“Move,” he said. Not asked. Ordered.
I didn’t argue. Arguing costs time. Arguing escalates risk.
I followed, because compliance sometimes buys survival.
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