“You can start with the toilet,” she says, her tone haughty. “Don’t skimp on the scrubbing.”

Judge drops the leash from his hand, and it clinks against the floor as I stare at them both incredulously.

“You want me to clean the toilet with a toothbrush?”

“Details matter,” Miriam chirps. “Everything needs to be spotless.”

My gaze moves to the toothbrush, and for a moment, I wonder how it would feel to make her choke on it. But then I remember why I’m here. I despise Miriam with every part of my being. There’s no debating that. But my hatred of her doesn’t outweigh the love I have for my friends. I have to keep telling myself that as I crawl toward the toilet and peek over the bowl.

There’s already some blue cleaning solution in there, so at least there’s that. Despite what they may think, this isn’t the first time I’ve ever cleaned a toilet. I did my fair share of cleaning in boarding school when I got mouthy. But I’ve never had to clean anything with a toothbrush.

Regardless, I get to work because I just want to get it over with. I scrub the bowl for a solid ten minutes, and when I think I’m done, Miriam is quick to point out areas she wants me to redo. Meanwhile, Judge watches on in silence, and my resentment of him only grows.

When I’m finished with the toilet, she makes me wipe down the exterior with a cloth and then hands me another toothbrush and a bucket of soapy water for the floor. That takes me at least a full hour to clean because Miriam won’t shut her goddamn piehole about invisible specks of dirt she claims exist.

I’m shaking with bottled-up rage by the time I finish the bathroom, but it doesn’t end there. Next, they drag me to the kitchen, where I’m put on dishes and floor duty again. When that’s done, she makes me polish all of Judge’s shoes, and then to my horror, hers. Just when I think it might finally end, I’m told I have to clean her bathroom, which is truly fucking disgusting. It’s obvious she’s waited the entire week for this, and there’s piss all over the tile floor that makes me wonder if she even bothered using the toilet.

I’m on the verge of tears by the time I finally finish, but I don’t let them fall. I won’t let them see that they’ve won. I feel disgusting, humiliated, and beat down. All I want to do is crawl into the shower and then bed. But nothing with Judge is ever that simple.

“Now, tell her how sorry you are,” he says. “Tell her how much you appreciate everything she does for you here.”