Wifey 4 Life
bathroom in the house.
    He looked back at me and laughed. “There’s one upstairs. But
    what’s wrong with this one?”
    “What’s wrong with it?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.
    He knew how fucked-up this bathroom was. The smell of the urine
    was so strong, it damn near killed me at the door. The toilet seat looked brown
    and rusted, and the sink had the same discoloration. I even saw a couple roaches
    scatter, like they were trying to run for cover. There was no toilet paper in sight,
    but there was half a roll of paper towels. I guess I was supposed to use that to
    wipe my ass. The few pieces of tile on the floor looked like they were about to
    come up. It was so bad that the wooden floor underneath was visible. Too bad there
    wasn’t a window, because this shit needed airing out big time.
    “Hey, look, I ain’t going way upstairs so you can use the bathroom.
    If you don’t use this one, then you ain’t using nothing.”
    I sucked my teeth because I saw that I wasn’t getting anywhere
    with this conversation. His big lazy ass didn’t want to walk up upstairs, so I had
    to suffer with the wretched and sordid conditions of this bathroom.
    I knew I had to hold my breath while I was inside that dungeon,
    but I also knew I couldn’t hold my breath longer than a good thirty seconds, so
    I rushed into the bathroom and closed the door. I don’t know how I did it, but I
    pulled up my dress, squatted, and pissed all over the nasty seat. I didn’t do it
    purposely. It just happened that way. I was mad that I’d pissed all over the seat
    and the floor, because that meant I had to be the one to wipe it up, and I didn’t
    want to touch anything in there. It didn’t matter that I could use the paper towels.
    The idea of being in this hellhole longer than I had to be definitely gave me the
    creeps.
    I grabbed the roll of paper towels, snatched off a sheet with
    which to wipe myself, and then placed the roll back on the edge of the sink. After
    I wiped myself, I used the same sheet to wipe off the toilet seat. I knew that was
    nasty and not hygienic, but look where I was. This whole fucking place was a dump.
    So why should I treat it any better than they did?
    Almost about to run out of breath, I dropped the used paper towel
    into the toilet and flushed. Not even a second later, I burst through the bathroom
    door and was back in the hallway standing beside the same asshole who wouldn’t let
    me use the upstairs bathroom. He didn’t waste any time escorting my ass back to
    the room where they had me tied up.
    When we reentered the room, I noticed that the stupid-ass chick
    had found her way there and was sitting on the sofa closest to the chair where I
    was tied, and sifting through the contents of my two-thousand- dollar Chanel handbag.
    I couldn’t believe how casually she handled my wallet as she flipped through my
    credit cards and my driver’s license.
    “She won’t be needing this or this after tonight,” she said.
    I started to curse her ass out and tell her to leave my shit
    alone, but instead I looked at her like she was beneath me, and then I rolled my
    eyes.
    “What the fuck was all that?” she blurted out.
    I ignored her ass, like she wasn’t talking to me.
    That made her mad, because she repeated herself, and this time
    she said it with much attitude. “I know you heard me talking to you when I asked
    you what the fuck was all that!”
    “Who you talking to?” the guy standing beside me asked her. “I’m
    talking to that bitch!” she screamed.
    I sat back down on the chair, and while the guy was tying my
    arms behind me, he started laughing at the chick. I knew I wasn’t in any position
    to start some shit with her, so I tried my best to ignore her comments, but of course,
    she wasn’t having that.
    “I’m not gonna ask you again,” she roared. She stood and walked
    over to where I was sitting.
    I looked up at her. “What do you want me to say?”
    “Don’t play fucking games with me!

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