Lia's new position next to the bed was enshrined in her routine alongside everything else. She didn't dread it; she waited with breathless anticipation all day long. After only a handful of identical days, the routine became ritual. A practiced sequence of devotion and quiet observation. The longer the cycle stretched on, the easier it was for Lia to collapse completely into her place, and allow herself to be guided by her surrogate parents.

There were still times when she would bristle against her new identity, though. The mornings were especially tough—she would bolt awake all at once, in the same way as waking from a dream about falling, and rapidly cycle through varying emotional states. Comfort, when she saw Penny sleeping soundly beside her. Disgust, when the first memories of the previous loop would come rushing in. Pleasure, inevitably rolling in behind the disgust—they were inseparable now. Horror, when she realized things could only get worse from here. The drop in lucidity administered by Ms. Morris after she fucked Lia's mom left her mind malleable and her memory scarce. There were no hints at what perversions had been placed there, until Lia walked headlong into them.

One day—she had long since stopped counting the repetitions—she noticed a prickling in the back of her skull, that grew and grew and grew over the course of her work day, swarming her head until she was dizzy, lightheaded, and drenched in sweat from desperation to get off. She couldn't conceive of why, until a phrase materialized in her head: "It feels good to be cleaning up for your betters." Ugh. Did she seriously give her a thing for being a maid?

Ms. Morris had also been more directly making her life absolute hell at work. Instead of disappearing to the projection floor with Carla after doing her cheeky introduction, now she would insist on a "spontaneous employee spot-check." It was a humiliating ritual: Ms. Morris would follow her to the next empty theater she was due to clean and sweetly point out the crumbs that she had missed (naturally, Carla could barely contain her laughter at this). The whole thing would get her so hot and bothered that she could hardly see straight—which meant more missed trash, 

Which meant more ridicule,

Which meant Lia's head would get all the fuzzier,

Which meant even more overlooked litter,

Which meant yet another round of derision from her bosses…

By the time she arrived home each evening, she'd be desperate for her dose of tea. Besides getting to watch Ms. Morris and her mom, it was her favorite part of the whole day; the immediate relief swept through every inch of her, and dulled her back into docility. It was wonderful. 

From that moment until she woke up the next morning—besides the brief, achingly lucid interruption to watch her parents fucking—Lia lived in the clouds, blissfully vacant to her own unbecoming.

It helped that she was allowed to touch herself now. While the adults had their fun on the bed, little Lia bucked and humped at her fingers, writhing on the floor. Sometimes she tried to match the rhythm that Ms. Morris set, but she usually lost it to her own lust; a sensation that even on its own was nearly as enveloping as the drugged-out haze that pervaded her mind.

In fact, it was getting difficult to tell the difference anymore. Lust hung over her in a permanent raincloud, and Ms. Morris had been less consistent about surfacing Lia to watch. It didn't matter to her—bliss was bliss, no matter the source. Repetition had driven a chisel into her head and carved out anything more rebellious than complacency.

As the days marched past in uniform, Lia was gifted two responsibilities: to clean up the living room and kitchen, and to wake her mom with breakfast before leaving for work. It filled her with a fantastic, giddy glee to tidy things (there was that bristling again), and she was proud of how efficient she'd gotten at it. Breakfast was a much larger challenge—especially since the fridge was nearly barren once she was through cleaning it—she had once attempted scrambled eggs, to disastrous effect, so most days she stuck to a buttered bagel and a cup of coffee. She assembled the meagre meal on a tray and pushed the door open with her back to keep it steady.

"G'morning."

So much for keeping it steady. Lia jumped, and the coffee jumped with her, splashing onto the tray. She turned around to see Penny already up and sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.

"Hi," she replied with a squeak, "you're up early."

"Yeah, I…" her mom's voice trailed off as Lia walked over and sat down next to her, handing off the tray. "I wanted to talk with you, actually." She paused, waiting for some kind of confirmation from her daughter, who could only manage a few vacant blinks.

"I guess I'm just… worried about how things have been trending," Penny continued, when she realized she wasn't getting any further response. "I kinda thought we were only gonna do this for a few days—maybe a week—but it's been almost a month now and I'm—" she flapped her hands around emptily. "I dunno, I'm having doubts. I was hoping to maybe hear what you're thinking? And we could talk to Christina about… getting us out of here?"

Lia could hardly believe what her mom was saying. Get us out of here? She wasn't thinking of undermining Ms. Morris? The mere thought of doing so was like trying to jam a jigsaw piece into a puzzle it didn't belong to. Besides, wasn't Mom enjoying herself? Wasn't this what she had wanted? A real woman instead of an immature little kid who can't be trusted to do anything?

She decided to keep her mouth shut. Her mom just stared back, a look of disgust slipping on her face, curling her lips into a sneer and creasing her forehead.

"So you've just given up?" she asked, finally. "You're happy to just live the same day forever? Watching me get railed every night? Being my—" she gestured down to her breakfast, "my fucked-up maid?"

Lia broke their stare and let her head fall into a sheepish nod.

"Ugh, you're no help. You'd roll over for a dog if it barked at you."

Her mom's face was seared into her mind for the rest of the day. She had seen that expression before, but it struck her as especially potent this time—what little respect Penny had once had for her daughter was gone. The two of them should have understood each other perfectly now, Lia reasoned. She had well and truly sunk to her proper place; the place that Mom had wanted her all along… right?

What Lia really couldn't get her head around was what she had proposed. Why would she want to leave? Was that even possible? She could scarcely imagine what her life had been before, and she had no desire to move beyond her new one. This flawless day was Lia's paradise. As much as she loved her mom, she couldn't let her bring everything crashing down. This was better for both of them.

She considered telling Ms. Morris about her mom's proposition when she saw her at work, but decided against it when she realized that Carla wasn't likely to leave her side all day. Besides, did she even need to tell Ms. Morris? Lia didn't want to upset her.

Her next idea was to look for that book—A Novice’s Guide to Time-Bending Hexes—to see how Penny might try to break the loop. But, she thought, that would just be a band-aid. She had to make absolutely certain her mom wouldn't ruin things for them.

Lia decided on a course of action as she and Penny were walking to dinner. (A charming, domestic ritual by now; Penny led the way of course, carrying a colossal umbrella that soared over the entire sidewalk, and held little Lia's hand the whole way.) She would need to be delicate, but if she did it right, Ms. Morris wouldn't have to know. Everything could continue as it was, forever.

She would let Penny see the light for herself.

Through routine, Lia had learned that Penny kept pre-mixed tea bags of her nightly potion in the cabinet next to the fridge, behind the normal tea and next to the coffee tin.

The next morning—once she had finished her cleaning duties, of course—she plucked one out of its spot and dumped the contents in with the coffee grounds. The resulting brew smelled faintly of that familiar citrus and not-quite-nutmeg scent. Even a whiff of it was enough to make her dizzy. She drowned the mug in creamer to suppress it, and prayed that Penny wouldn't notice.

Lia's mom was still snoring as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath, set the breakfast tray on the bedside table, and gently nudged Penny until she roused.

"Good morning… here's your breakfast…" she said, careful to keep her face as blank as she could. "And I… well I was th-thinking about what you said y-y-yesterday." She kept holding the breath in her lungs, letting her words eke out in tiny bursts of air.

"Mhmmm?" Penny blinked herself awake and tilted her head to the side. She considered the bagel for a moment, before grabbing the coffee and taking a huge gulp.

Lia exhaled all at once, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeak. She couldn't believe it was truly that easy. She had spent all day deliberating over a course of action—she hadn't given much thought to her plan once it had worked.

"Ssooo, what's up?" Penny's head lolled from one shoulder to the other. She hadn't yet realized that it wasn't only drowsiness gripping her body.

"W-well…" Lia fumbled about for the right words. Shouldn't this be easy? Just remind her of the way of things: that Ms. Morris knows best and Lia is an immature, pathetic loser. That this perfect routine is all that any of them should need anymore. That this is what Mom had wanted the whole time! Her charming butch witch, and her empty-headed, servile daughter.

Penny took another sip of the coffee. Her pupils began yawning open and clouding with mist. "This issss… rrreally good…" She chugged down the rest of the drink.

Lia brightened. "It is, isn't it?" she said. "S-see? Don't you um, want to stay with Ms. Morris?"

Penny blinked, slowly. "Sstayyy…?"

"Yes! Yes. You, um, y-you think that this is the p-perfect way to live!"

"Perfect… way to live…"

"Yes! You wouldn't, um—you won't ever question Ms. Morris."

"I won't question… Ms. Morris…?"

"Um, C-Christina," Lia corrected, the name feeling odd and misshapen in her throat. "She knows what we n-need." The words were coming a little easier to her now. "I can see how happy she m-makes you… How much better than me she is…"

"Better than you… Christina knows best…"

"Exactly! That's right!"

"Christina knows best…"

Lia's heart was racing. She checked the time—five minutes until she had to catch her bus. What else should she do? Would the potion wear off while she was gone? That would probably be fine, she thought. Mom would assume she fell back asleep, right? She considered skipping work, but knew that Ms. Morris would realize something was wrong. So, she grabbed the empty mug, left the bagel, tucked her mom back into bed, and darted out the door- 

Just in time to see the bus leaving her stop at the corner.

The next bus didn't come for twenty minutes, and it was packed tight with commuters and kids heading to school. It crept along the route while Lia stood near the door, rattling with anxiety the whole way.

She tried to slip into work unnoticed, but was almost immediately intercepted by Carla.

"You're late again."

A few short weeks ago, Lia would have thrown all caution to the wind and really let Carla have it. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Thalia would have done that—would have probably called Carla a cunt and stamped out any final, sputtering sparks of goodwill this dump still had for her. 

Instead, little hollowed-out Lia shrank, and said, "S-sorry, Carla. Bus was late."

Carla almost looked sorry for the kid. "Just… get to work. CFO'll be here soon."

The rest of the work day passed mostly without incident, which did nothing to ease Lia's panic. Ms. Morris made her usual appearance, and though she did seem disappointed by Lia's lack of distractibility during her spot-check, she didn't say anything to imply she was suspicious.

Relief finally settled onto Lia when she arrived back at home, and found Penny in the midst of getting ready, as usual. Everything was as it should be—so long as she ignored the distant look in her mom's eyes and the absent, plodding way that she moved.

Besides, those would wear off by the time the next loop started anyway, right?

She pushed away the thoughts and headed to the bedroom. 

(The termites were still there. Didn't Mom usually get rid of those by now?)

She pushed it away and changed into her outfit for dinner. 

(It wasn't laying out for her like normal.) 

She shoved it all out of sight. It was fine.

It was when Lia drank her dose of tea that the problems really started.

Liquid chaos spilled in, pooling in the back of her throat. It cut off her breathing. Her head buzzed while it rippled, splashed violently in her mouth. Before she could draw in another breath, she was already drowning. Dark spots popped into her frame of vision, orange at the edges, each one a little bigger. A little more corrosive. A little closer to eclipsing her.

As soon as it did, she was somewhere else.

She was back in the hallway again, pushing against that invisible barrier, voices echoing through her skull. No words, just noise, noise all around her and inside her and outside her, and she was stuck, pushing against nothingness that would never budge.

The spots again, blotting out everything, then-

She was kneeling at the edge of the bed, watching. Observing. She met her mom's eyes for a moment—empty pools, but filling up quickly. In an instant, they were spilling out more chaos; more noise, flooding the room, thrumming into Lia's spine. 

Spots, everywhere. Blank, then-

She was at the restaurant, watching Christina's effortless charm infatuating Penny. Spots, empty darkness. She was at work, being heckled by Christina and Carla. Spots. Nothingness. She was cleaning up the apartment before work. 

The chaos filled her entire head. Her brain swam in it, dissolving. Images flashed past her eyelids faster than she could comprehend them, flickering and pulsing and rotting from the inside out with each new frame. Then, the images burned away; starting from those burnt-edged spots, eating away at themselves until all that remained was darkness—and a familiar voice that thundered in from all sides.

"What the fuck did you do!?"

Lia didn't really know if the question was rhetorical or not. She didn't know if she could speak at all. The dark was pervasive, suffocating—but she wasn't drowning in chaos anymore.

"I, um," she started, her voice barely a notion,  "I thought that m-maybe—"

"Shut up." Ms. Morris's voice was so ubiquitous in the darkness that Lia thought it might crush her consciousness. "I don't give a fuck what you thought. What did you do?"

"I g-g-gave Mom some of th-the tea…"

"Oh, Christ," she grumbled, and it reverberated through everything, "what made you think that was a good idea?"

"Um, sh-she asked me ab-b-bout getting, um, g-getting out…?"

"Ugh. Look, you come to me about shit like that, understand?"

The void itself warbled around Lia's awareness; it shifted palettes as she felt Ms. Morris considering her very selfhood. Sensations, absent of context, surrounded her—a faint pinching at the base of her being—the barest taste of wine—a vision of inexorable oblivion that awaited if Ms. Morris let her slip through her grasp.

"Okay. Okay. This is fixable," the voice of Lia's new lifeline rumbled. The space around her wrinkled in thought. "First I just need to make sure you don't meddle anymore."

Ms. Morris's grip tightened around her. "B-but!" she sputtered, "I j-just thought I c-c-could help!"

"I know. And now I want to be sure you don't ever think again."

A snap commanded Lia's focus and blanked her mind completely. 

The void was peaceful, the chasm below nonthreatening.

"I think I let you stay too old for too long," Ms. Morris mused. "Ten—what was I thinking?—we can go lower than ten."

The lightest touch brushed against Lia's body—such as it was—and traced, downward. 

Bliss.

"It suits you much better to be nine," another trace, pure sweetness, "eight," another—heaven, "seven," and another, "six," and once more, bringing her to her new home, "five."

Lia's mind plummeted to the depths that Ms. Morris had opened for her. Five years old.

"Doesn't that feel better?" Ms. Morris put into words the only thought that was lingering inside what was left of little Lia—it did feel better. The chaos that had been percolating in her head drained out, and with it flushed any pesky thoughts still clinging to her skull.

"I think the only thing left, before I deal with your mother," she continued, "is to give you a new name for me. Make it a little clearer who the head of household is. I was never fond of 'Daddy,' but… I think Sir could work."

It would've been pathetic how rapidly the word entombed itself in Lia's head, if it wasn't so inevitable. In an instant, she accepted her new truth—her new parents—Mom and Sir. Not a question left in her mind. The worries were gone, too. What did Lia care if her Mom was having doubts? Her parents could work it out. Sir would make things right. She was sure of that, and little else.