Aurora
I’ve been doing the same thing every day for so long that the days are starting to jumble up in my head. I start in Xander’s room, wiping the floors on my knees, just like he forces me to do every morning. I am not allowed to sweep it with a broom, only given a simple, ratty rag and some kind of cleaner in a spray bottle.
My joints ache on the solid, thick floors. Xander is getting ready in the washroom, shaving the fresh, blond stubble that pokes out of his jaw and neck. He works slowly, carefully, and I try to match the opposite of his pace to get this tedious task over with.
It’s only to demean me. Just like the act of cutting my hair. It’s short and gray in color almost, so white that the shadows reflect off the strands to be slightly darker. I miss the feeling of my long h
