Steady and bold, I walk back to the bathroom door, slipping an elaborate blue brocade robe off of a hook and slipping it over my arms. As I tie the belt around my waist, I let myself slip into that Cream Puff Princess attitude that Faiza and I spent hours practicing.
Dumb as a rock, I say to myself, emptying my mind of anger and violence and pain. Pretty as a picture. No thoughts, just a desire to please.
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