Long, shapeless dresses, never slacks, never decorated in any way, covered her thin but alluring frame.Long, shapeless dresses, never slacks, never decorated in any way, covered her thin but alluring frame. She feared she would look indecent, like a whore. Her mother called her that, even in her more lucid moments. If she combed her hair differently, to help her look pretty, if she wore a little perfume, her mother began to scream things like "You filthy girl! Do you want to rouse men's desire? Do you want them pawing at you, grabbing you? People will think you do! They'll know what a slut you really are!" Sometimes it was to much. Around her neck was a simple silver cross, a gift from her father, before he left. She had been twelve then, and the chain had reached down to her belly. Now, as tall as she had become, it rested between her breasts. |