Susan

The rain began to fall lightly at first but soon my body was drenched in the downpour. The weight of my dress further pulling me down. I suppose I deserved this humiliation. Here I was, cast out of the commune for the most sinful act any good wife could commit and now even God himself was spitting on me with the mouths of a thousand angels from the clouds.
I could just imagine what my sister-wives thought of me now: Bessie with her pointy nose and fingers, old Abigail with her twisted smile and relentless muttering. All full of judgment and shame. But none could compare to the betrayal I felt from Susan.

Susan.
That selfish bitch.
With eyes so clear, it was as though her soul escaped through them at birth and flew away.
With black hair and pretentious smile; I should have seen the signs a mile away. The way she drew me in with feigned innocence and like a spider slowly wrapped her web around me while I remaining transfixed in her gaze. She showed me a promised world of desire and beauty, a world unknown to me but eased my fears with every touch. Little did I know the only fantasies she was exploring were her own.

I'll never forget the scent of her hair as it brushed lightly against my neck, I didn't even bother mentioning how dry and damaged it was, like the tail on the horse we had to shoot earlier for breaking its leg.
She smelt of lilacs and lies. And it hypnotized me. I can still taste the cornbread she had with dinner on my lips, and I wanted to vomit my love-bile out like a drunk.

When my husband Joe found us it was too late. She was always his favourite, and she threw me to him like a mother throwing her infant to a bear to buy a few seconds to escape.

Susan...
May her beauty never fade.

'Whore'

The sting of hot sand in your eyes is unforgettable.

As I watched my husband's red pick-up speed away down the dusty road for the last time I suddenly realized the importance of maintaining mudflaps on the back of a truck.

I was warned about this possibility. I prayed it would never happen. But yet here I was: standing in long white sleeves, under a blue plaid dress down to my ankles, with torn running shoes. The July sun at noon weighed down on me like the yoke on an ox and my wrists still hurt from being forced out of the passenger seat onto the side of the road.

'Whore' he yelled to me as he left.
'Whore' was the last word to leave his lips.

And there I stood. For an hour. As clouds slowly rolled in. Paralyzed, penniless and helpless, one hundred and fifty miles from Salt Lake City.

I didn't even remember to pray.

The first crack of thunder shot through my spine like a javelin...
rain...
great...
that's just great...
that's REALLY. JUST. GREAT.
that's REALLY. JUST. FUCKING! GREAT!!!
JUST FUCKING GREAT!
FFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKK!

...

Oh my Goodness. I just said a swear!