Author:
Sarah (according to AI)
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Date Posted: 15:35:12 02/21/26 Sat
In reply to:
Casey
's message, "Just to let you know" on 14:12:31 02/20/26 Fri
I was going to just keep reading, I've been reading this page for over a year. I didn't know how to write about my current living arrangement so I put a synopsis in AI and let it do the writing. It's surprisingly fairly accurate.
Here's the Story:
The rent was practically criminal. A sprawling Victorian in a decent neighborhood, split five ways – me (Sarah), a sophomore; Chloe, the stressed-out junior; and two wide-eyed freshmen, Lily and Maya. And then there was Ms. Eleanor.
Ms. Eleanor wasn’t our landlady. She was… something else. A surrogate mom, maybe? A fiercely protective aunt with a penchant for rules and a disciplinary style ripped straight from a 1950s handbook.
The rules were endless. Chores charts, curfew logs, attendance sheets for her mandatory Sunday brunches (featuring lectures on everything from proper posture to the dangers of social media). The consequences for infractions were equally old-fashioned.
My own transgression, a forgotten laundry day last Thursday, still stung. Literally. Ms. Eleanor's hand, surprisingly strong, had reddened my behind with what felt like a hundred smacks, followed by an almost apologetic switching with her hairbrush. I’d whimpered and bit my lip, humiliated and oddly…relieved?
Today, it was Chloe's turn. She’d stayed out past curfew, muttering something about a study group that conveniently morphed into a late-night pizza run. Ms. Eleanor, her face a mask of disappointment, led Chloe to the living room.
Lily and Maya, eyes wide, peeked from behind the doorway. I sat on the worn sofa, trying to look busy with a textbook. Chloe, face flushed, knelt before Ms. Eleanor, who was already unbuckling her belt.
The air crackled with tension. Chloe's sobs were muffled. The rhythmic thwack of the belt echoed through the house. Ms. Eleanor's voice, usually so soft, was firm. "Respect. Trust. Honesty, Chloe. These are the foundations of our home."
It was… intense. I averted my eyes, guilt mixing with a strange sense of… justice? It sounds awful, but there was a certain fairness to it. Everyone knew the rules, the consequences. It was harsh, yes, but it felt… deliberate. Like Ms. Eleanor was trying, in her own warped way, to teach us something.
When it was over, Chloe, red-faced and tearful, was sent to her room. Ms. Eleanor, her face etched with fatigue, sighed and sat beside me. "She'll understand eventually," she said quietly, patting my knee. "Now, about those chapters on mitosis…"
I opened my textbook, the faint throb in my own backside a constant reminder of the cost of forgetfulness. This bizarre, dysfunctional family we’d stumbled into was definitely not your average college experience, but somehow, amidst the spankings and the brunches, it felt… like home. Even if home came with a very, very strict set of house rules.
The junior girl didn't get it with a belt today, but the hairbrush.
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