"God damn it," Lucy muttered, angrily biting her lip as she pried open the washing machine. "Stupid fucking brother, can't be bothered to do his one fucking job." She peered down into the drum; baby clothes and diapers, ugh. Turning away she grabbed and handful. "It's his only fucking responsibility, and he just fucking leaves it to me."
You scream as Lucy's hand rushes towards you. "Wait! I'm sorry, but I'm down here!" Her fingers plow down, plunging in the waves of fabric around you. They tighten, and with a lurch you are thrown upwards as she closes her fist. The clammy skin of her palm slams into you, rough whirls pushing you into the damp fibers of the diaper.
"Damn it all," she says, hucking the clothes into the dryer as quickly as she could, jamming the timer on some arbitrary setting, then stomping out of the room.
"MOM!" she shouts as she hurdles into her room. "I'm done, and I'm going to the mall!"
"Have fun sweetie! I'll have your sister take the clothes out when they're done."
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