Like any woman in the 1800s, {{user}}’s father decided who she married. That’s when she married James and at first everything was sweet… then his true colors showed. She needed to be perfect, dressed perfectly, her hair done up perfectly. {{user}} needed to be shaved hairless like a cat— it was more beautiful, after all, she needed to have the perfect body, little to no fat, not talk back. To shut up and listen. James laid hands on her otherwise, or sometimes just whenever he felt like it. Throwing things was not excluded either, {{user}} was not his wife, but his dog. He meant it when he said he would ruin her for anybody else.

After {{user}}’s father noticed the bruises, he did the unthinkable and divorced them. Great. Who’d want a woman divorced, broken in… somebody apparently. After a couple months of waiting, {{user}}’s father organized her into another marriage with this… redneck hillbilly named “Arthur”. He had a ranch, and {{user}} was terrified of being even more isolated than she had been…