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A Battered Woman Looks In The Mirror Skyler Drevan
“In every marriage more than a week old, there are grounds for divorce. The trick is to find, and continue to find, grounds for marriage.”
Robert Anderson
Remember as you wipe away the tears that you are a woman, you are weak, dumb, unkempt and inferior. You must also remember that you are his slave and therefore not very free. You must remember that you are not the man and thus, are substandard. You must know where your place is, you must know that your only reason for being is to serve and protect the sanctity of our marriage and our family and preserve the good name of my husband. I must remember that though he beats me, I cause it and I should know better. I should know that he likes his eggs scrambled and not over easy at exactly eight thirty in the morning. I should know that his orange juice must be freshly squeezed and I should know that his bagel must be extra soft with very little low-fat cream cheese. I should know that as his wife, I am the only one that he can take homage over. I am his property and I should expect to be treated as such. I know that I am his asset and to make myself look pretty when I go outdoors (without him) I should expect a beating because there is no need to make other men possibly come on to me. I should know to cut his toe nails once a week, and no more than six times a month. I should always remember that the trash should be taken out only three hours before the scheduled pick up to avoid another beating.
As his property and the mother of his three children, I should know that I am not allowed to be anything or anyone outside of our humble home. I should always remember that I am ugly and no other man would ever want me, no matter how good I try to make myself look. I now know that I am beneath him. It took a few beatings and hair pulling matches but I now know. I know that it is not lady-like to fight back when he is hitting me. I will never make that mistake again. This is my husbands place, it is my job to keep it clean and keep it glistening for him. I am never allowed to have guests over, not even my own family. I know that now. As I look in this mirror, I know that I am not merely cleaning away the bruises and washing away blood as my eye grows blacker and closes in. No, I am merely wiping away another mistake I made when I upset my dear husband. He is a good man beneath all the hurt that he causes, beneath all the hurt that I cause him to cause. I know that he and I have had our issues but in talking to him and his friends, I know that his issues were in fact my issues.
I will raise my son just as he has instructed me too. I will tell him that the man rules the world and whatever a man asks or demands from a woman; she should reciprocate as she is inferior in every way. I almost forgot to remember to not try to sing songs anymore. My husband saved me a lot of embarrassment when he told me at a party that I couldn’t sing a lick and that I really should shut up. I must remember that all the money I make should go to my husband as he is the only one true bread winner in this family. The children should know that for whatever problem they have, they are not to ask daddy as he is always too busy for them and I must be the one answer machine. If I fail and they run to daddy, I must remember that I will be subject to another brutal punishment that I would have caused myself.
As a wife of my husband the king, I know that I am hardly a queen, I am a mere peasant and I am not allowed to have any fun or talk to anyone. I have to continue to remind myself of that as I far too often have forgotten and landed myself right back here wiping away the blood from open wounds. I am not worthy of an education. I am not worthy of adventure, and I am not worthy of joy. I am a slut, a dirty lousy slut with no feelings or emotions. I am nothing more than a whore a common whore that should remember where I belong at all times. My husband is not pimp, he is held in much too high a standard for that. But he is a master. He is my master and at all times, I will obey. I remember, boy do I remember. This is a fine country we live in but in this house, it is the United States of Him. He is the President and Vice President. I, well, I am a part of a commonwealth with no vote. I will never have a voice; I will never have a choice. But I know that if I were to ever break any of his rules and commandments again, I shall end up right back here in the bathroom, wiping away the tears.
READER'S REVIEWS (6) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Wow! What a gruesome fate to endure for this woman. This was wonderful throughout. Very little to nothing disagreed with me. Sentence structure was spot on, as was word selection. I was very impressed with this story. Keep up the magnificence." -- Michael Harris, Detroit.
"This was an emotional and powerful piece! I felt this girl's pain, truly. Nicely done!" -- Hayley Burdett.
"apparantely this sort of stuff does go on, i don't understand it and it's hard to imagine people can live like this. you did a good job portraying how the lady must feel. " -- just a guy.
"*claps* well done once again my friend. How delightful it is to be reading about the stuff everyone is afraid to write... i have had it about up to here with all these picnic stories... well done. keep it up... i want your next to peice to make me sick!" -- ryan severud.
"I want to thank all of you for ypur reviews of my piece. Thanks Michael, Hayley, JAG, and Ryan, it's really appreciated. I cannot really explain where these pieces came from. Lately, I've just been in a path with my writing, I'm going with the flow. " -- Jeffrey, The Author.
"Thank you for your writing of the above subject. it brought so many bad memories into my head I suffered from DV for over 30 years. I eventually broke free in 2000, and I've not looked back once" -- Carol Weeden, England.
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