A Proper Woman

Growing up, I was trained to be everything a woman should be. I had to be respectful, believe that a man was always right, have good posture, never speak back and the list goes on.

In my eyes, it was how to be the perfect puppet. I was to be someone who allowed anyone to pull her strings. That I should be easy to control and manipulate.

For the longest while I played by those rules. Listening and obeying to every lecture but every once in a while broke one or two.

The price for breaking a rule was lashes with a belt and depending on which rule was broken determined the number of lashes. This caused my skin to be littered in bruises, but that didn't stop me.

It was only because of my mother who laid on her deathbed was when I decided to be a proper lady. To perhaps follow in her footsteps. To maybe someday find true love and have a family of my own, but that all came crashing down and a wave of reality splashed me in the face.

My father, deciding that I was of age to be wedded, had arranged a marriage for me. I had no say in the matter, of course.

All I knew was that this man was the equivalent to the devil and that he was filfthy rich.

I guess it's time for me to show him just how much of a proper woman that I am.