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There was no danger; it was just a friendly little cat out looking for an easy meal. The dark haired feline had caught the scent of her tunafish, no doubt. Unable to fight off the smile which began to tug at her lips, the woman watched contently as the animal rubbed up against her leg in an affectionate manner. For once, she found herself feeling rather disappointed with her choice of clothing. The fabric of her pajamas prevented her from feeling the texture of the felines fur. Odd as it might have seemed, she wanted to be able to tell whether or not its hair was silky or coarse. There was something about being able to genuinely feel the contact of an animal with her bare skin, which brought about an odd sense of comfort. Humming softly, she scooped a little bit of her fallen tuna off of her plate, and then held out her fingers to try and bribe her unexpected visitor. The cat was quick to accept her offering, just as she had hoped.

Holding relatively still, she watched as the feline eagerly lapped the tuna off of her fingers. The little creature used their tongue to pull the mouthful of fishy goodness into their waiting jaws, and then made sure to lick her fingers clean of any leftover food. Withdrawing her hand once she had given them the first taste of her tunafish, she found herself feeling rather convinced that she had successfully caught the cat’s attention. Seeking to coax them into obeying her for the time being, she softly clicked her tongue against her teeth; this creating the sound which many people used to try and lure animals closer to them. The cat, being far from shy, eagerly moved closer to her and sniffed at her knee. Shortly after, the feline stepped closer still so that it could stand upon her leg. When they were not immediately ushered away, the small animal took that as their cue to continue with their approach.

In a matter of seconds, she found herself listening to the content purrs of the cat as it stretched out to lean against her shoulder. The feline had, in all sense of the word, moved into a standing position so that it could throw its paws and chin over her shoulder in a sort of hug. Eager to make friends, she put her plate of food aside so that she could move all of her attention to petting the cat. Running her fingers through their fur, she scratched their back and sides for as long as the animal would permit. By the time the dark haired creature had decided that they had had enough affection for one sitting, her clothes were left with a lasting reminder of the ordeal. A small path of black fur having become trapped in the fibers of her top. She, however, was not bothered by this in the slightest. If anything, she was thrilled to have the company. Any sort of an affectionate companion was welcomed, even if holding it would leave her a bit messy.

She spent the remainder of her meal trying to leave a good impression. Any bit of tuna which fell from between her slices of toast, was quickly scooped into her fingers and offered to the hungry feline. The cat, whom was perfectly willing to take just about any food which might be given to them, offered no protest. The faintest of laughs would escape her at the feel of the animal’s coarse tongue gliding across her skin. She really did adore cats. Any animal, really. If it was willing to give her the time of day, then she would drop virtually any task to enjoy her time with them. As the animal stepped onto her knee once again and stretched their body for the sake of reaching high enough to lick her chin, thoughts of venturing out to acquire a pet of her own floated into her mind. These apartments were fit to accommodate pets, and all she would need to do was see to it that a pet deposit was paid.

So in all accounts, she was free to get a pet if she wanted. The only real issue would be convincing her partner to allow her to adopt one. Of all the things for them to have never discussed, it was whether or not they would bring an animal into their household. The question was, would it be dangerous to get a pet? She would do nothing to harm any animal which she decided to adopt, but, this did not mean that her mate would behave in a similar manner. If she were to get a pet, would her partner take to using it as a means of getting the upper hand in an argument? Would he threaten to hurt the animal if he felt she was being disobedient? They had never brought any sort of living animal into their home. She had nothing to use as a means of determining whether or not he would treat an animal as horribly as he did her. Would he have a reason to, though?

He was possessive of her because he viewed her as his property, and suspected that she might be stolen by another man at any moment. Would he feel a similar level of possession for an animal? He was convinced that she would betray him at any moment, and run away with another man. A dog or a cat, however, did not behave in such a manner. A soft huff escaped her as she reluctantly pushed the feline away from her. She gently slid the creature off of her leg, offering them the last bite of her sandwich before standing up to make her way back inside. She could not trust her mate enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. If she were to bring an animal into the household, any harm that might befall it would be her responsibility. Her partner was a violent man who was quick to raise his fists in the event of things not going the way that he wanted them to. There was no guarantee that he would not hurt an animal if they adopted one.

So, unfortunately, she could not provide a safe home to any sort of pet that she might want. Picking up the plate once her visitor had finished licking up the last few bits of tuna that had rested on it, she gave them one last pat on the head before turning and making her way up the stairs. At this point, it was safe to state that she was depressed. A pet would probably do her some good, since she was in a situation where it was virtually impossible to acquire any sort of genuine affection from anyone. Her mate was only nice when he wanted something. Namely, when he felt that he had done a good job at establishing control over her, and felt that she would need a reward if he wanted her to remain obedient. Work life? She hardly knew any of her coworkers thanks to her mate’s rules. An addition to this being that, as of now, most of her Subjects had yet to show any signs of developing fond emotions for her.

She was emotionally starved, to say the least; but getting a pet seemed to be out of the question. To bring an animal into a dangerous situation would be a terrible thing to do. As horrible of a person as she believed that she was, she at least knew she was better than the people who abused animals without any sense of guilt. After making her way back up the stairs, the woman pushed through the unlocked door and made her way back into the kitchen. She rinsed off her plate, and tended to any other dishes that had been left unattended. Really, at this point she was just trying to keep herself occupied until her partner came back home. She knew what he would expect of her once he returned. To put it bluntly, she was not looking forward to it. If anything, the idea alone proved to be enough to make her skin crawl. She would be putting off her shower until after he had finished using her as a means of fulfilling his twisted urges.

She continued to occupy herself by tending to the house whilst she waited for his return. Given the small size of the area, there was not much for her to do considering how on top of things she was prone to being. There was next to no dust on the floor when she swept. She mopped, despite there being nothing noticeable on the ground to wipe away. The counters were clean, but she still cleaned them. Anything to keep her mind occupied, whilst she waited for her partner to come back from the bar. When she could do nothing else in the kitchen, she began to make her way throughout the rest of the house to work. She straightened out the bed. Upon realizing that she had left her phone unplugged, she connected it to the charger and trusted that it would not be moved for the rest of the night. When she finally heard the door open, she had lost any means of fighting off the paranoia.

The worst thing about being in an abusive relationship, was not the beatings. She could handle the abuse, and had managed to do so rather well thus far. No, the worst thing about being in an abusive relationship, was the inability to have control over her own body. She dressed according to what her work, and what her partner, felt was most appropriate; only succeeded in wearing her own attire when it came to finding a loophole in the rules. Her eating schedule was set up according to the desires of other people. Her lunch time being assigned to her by someone of higher authority at work, while breakfast and dinner were set up according to what her partner expected. When it came to sex, she could offer no argument. Either do as he wanted and offer no form of protest, or deal with his fists. She had made the reluctant choice to simply let him do as he pleased, for the sake of reducing the damage done to her own body.

Or, maybe she should start to call it his body at this point. Considering that everything that she put on or did to her frame, was done in a way that would abide by the laws of other people. She said nothing as he made his way throughout the house. His lack of verbal commentary was a slight relief, considering the situation. He was not one for sweet talk, and when he did try and speak to her at times such as this, the conversations were far from pleasant. There was little time to contemplate whether or not tonight would be the night that she decided to fight back. Fight back as in pick up the lamp resting on the nightstand and smash it into the base of his skull to get him off of her. The scent of alcohol was overwhelming as he forced himself onto her. She hated it when he drank. When he drank before sex, she could taste it on him whenever he forced her into a kiss. He had gotten into the strong stuff tonight.

The sort of booze that parents would advise most children to stay away from, because of its high alcohol content. For the sake of keeping her wits about her, she did all that she could to refrain from locking lips with him more than needed. In her mind, he would intoxicate her and leave her body sickly and corrupted. The alcohol in his breath would only make it easier for him to tear her apart completely.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Even at times when he had been seeking intimacy, he was prone to leaving marks. Dark patches shown on her skin where his teeth had been pressed against her throat and shoulders. She dared not call them hickeys. To refer to these painful marks as a blemish left upon the skin by a lover, would mean to call their relationship one of love. She would not lie to herself in such a manner. Nor would she give an otherwise playful means of showing affection, the same title as his methods of marking her as his property. Bruises shown proudly around her hips. The markings forming a handprint. Proof that even when she refrained from resisting him, he would do whatever he could to make sure that she remained submissive. She had left the bed as soon as he had finished with her. He had offered no protest, as usual. Neither of them were eager to produce offspring.

He would have ordered her to go clean herself had she not already made the move to do so. She disliked having to look onto the markings that he left upon her skin. There was little that she would be able to do to conceal them. Tomorrow their color will have darkened, and her only option will be to hope that no one called attention to them. Especially her subjects. After nights such as this, she could swear that their eyes would linger upon the marks. She would feel their gaze fixate upon the blemishes, and would be left feeling incredibly uneasy until it came time to leave. Tomorrow was unlikely to be a different scenario. Unless her Subjects decided that they would lash out at her. As far as she could guess, that was what they seemed to contemplate whenever she stepped into their territory bearing the wounds of war. This was a situation where time was not on her side.

Eventually, she was going to slip up. She might wind up getting a leg caught by the jaws of death as she tried to pass through the automated doors. Her mate might snap and do away with her, resulting in his execution in the process. Or, perhaps it would be one of her Subjects. Docile as they would behave while she was in the room, she had seen the complete details of their history. She knew that every one of those under her care, were perfectly capable of turning around and tearing into her like a piece of rotten meat. There was no telling exactly who or what would wind up bringing her life to an end; but she could rest assured that eventually, she would die. Either through the deliberate actions of another living being, or as a result of her own carelessness. The burn of the water as it ran across her skin, only reminded her of the damage that had been done to her body.

The marks on her neck were surprisingly sensitive to temperature. Most likely because the skin itself had been left incredibly tender, thanks to the frequent assault of his teeth. Part of her felt that she would find blood trickling down her bodice once she began to scrub the painful injuries. Her partner had, in her mind, damaged the skin to the point that it might peel away at the slightest contact. The wounds felt similar to blisters, when it came to the level of pain. So why would her flesh not split and break after being chewed to the point that it was left raw? Thankfully, reality proved to differ from her imagination. As she ran the damp cloth across her skin, it did not peel away and leave her as a bleeding mess. Sore as the area was, the damage was not severe enough to create an injury which would require antibiotics. No, it would only serve as a physical reminder of how horrific her life had become.

She cleaned the entirety of her body as though it had been soaked in ink. Every touch of her partner leaving some sort of physical proof of his presence. Proof which she only wanted to wash away, for the sake of pretending that this incident had never occurred come morning. Denial was her most important survival tactic, on nights such as this. Wash away the sin and act as though the disgusting acts had never been carried out with. By the time she felt content with how well she had washed her frame, most of her skin was left as tender as the markings on her neck. She would scrub herself raw time and time again, if only to clear away the proof of nights such as this. No real effort was put into drying her soaked bodice. She lazily rubbed the towel against her hair as she sat upon the toilet. The lid sported a soft fabric cover, which absorbed any fluid that rolled down her body.

When it came to drying off, she often let gravity do the work. The cold air would draw goosebumps to her skin, and the slight trembling brought on by the cold would coax the water into running down her skin. By the end of it, everything but her hair would be left dry; and the toilet lid would be damp. Any water left in her hair would be taken with her to bed. As such, she slipped back into her nighttime attire, taking comfort in the texture of the fabric as it rubbed against her sore frame. Following this, it was all a short trip from the bathroom to the bedroom. Her partner lay sleeping comfortably beneath the covers, and as much as she detested it, she had little choice but to join him. She honestly found it odd that such a violent man would be so insistent on sharing a bed with his victim. She was not allowed to sleep anywhere but beside him. The only acceptation being that she was able to sleep alone, on nights when he did not come home.

At times, she would wonder if he was cheating on her. A man who believed women were his property was unlikely to have any real idea of loyalty. Women were only good when they were willing to stay by their man, and they were only allowed to be with one. Men, on the other hand, were viewed fondly by succeeded to draw as many women to them as possible. A horrible double-standard, which she secretly despised. Were it not for the fact that she had learned not to comment on such things in front of him, she would voice her opinion. Exhausted, but not simply because of the physical strain brought on by the days events, she proceeded to climb into the bed. Her partner showed no signs of being disturb as she forced her bodice beneath the covers. The warmth of the blankets would be well worth being trapped beside him for the night. Settling down, she rolled to face away from him.

As horrible as the day was, it was just another less appealing day in her generally terrible life. There were days that were going to be worse than this. Days that were going to be somewhat better, although they would still be laced with unease. Tugging at the blankets, she pressed her face into her pillow. Events like this, were what would make her wish she had a pet. Some sort of animal or companion that she could hold on to, without fear of being reprimanded for her emotions. The cat that came tonight, had been a special treat. She was tempted to start enjoying late night snacks outside, if only to try and coax the animal into visiting her on a regular basis. She might not be able to have a pet, but, there was no harm in befriending a stray, right? She would not put the feline in any sort of danger, if all she ever did was share a snack with them at night.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

There was no danger; it was just a friendly little cat out looking for an easy meal. The dark haired feline had caught the scent of her tunafish, no doubt. Unable to fight off the smile which began to tug at her lips, the woman watched contently as the animal rubbed up against her leg in an affectionate manner. For once, she found herself feeling rather disappointed with her choice of clothing. The fabric of her pajamas prevented her from feeling the texture of the felines fur. Odd as it might have seemed, she wanted to be able to tell whether or not its hair was silky or coarse. There was something about being able to genuinely feel the contact of an animal with her bare skin, which brought about an odd sense of comfort. Humming softly, she scooped a little bit of her fallen tuna off of her plate, and then held out her fingers to try and bribe her unexpected visitor. The cat was quick to accept her offering, just as she had hoped.

Holding relatively still, she watched as the feline eagerly lapped the tuna off of her fingers. The little creature used their tongue to pull the mouthful of fishy goodness into their waiting jaws, and then made sure to lick her fingers clean of any leftover food. Withdrawing her hand once she had given them the first taste of her tunafish, she found herself feeling rather convinced that she had successfully caught the cat’s attention. Seeking to coax them into obeying her for the time being, she softly clicked her tongue against her teeth; this creating the sound which many people used to try and lure animals closer to them. The cat, being far from shy, eagerly moved closer to her and sniffed at her knee. Shortly after, the feline stepped closer still so that it could stand upon her leg. When they were not immediately ushered away, the small animal took that as their cue to continue with their approach.

In a matter of seconds, she found herself listening to the content purrs of the cat as it stretched out to lean against her shoulder. The feline had, in all sense of the word, moved into a standing position so that it could throw its paws and chin over her shoulder in a sort of hug. Eager to make friends, she put her plate of food aside so that she could move all of her attention to petting the cat. Running her fingers through their fur, she scratched their back and sides for as long as the animal would permit. By the time the dark haired creature had decided that they had had enough affection for one sitting, her clothes were left with a lasting reminder of the ordeal. A small path of black fur having become trapped in the fibers of her top. She, however, was not bothered by this in the slightest. If anything, she was thrilled to have the company. Any sort of an affectionate companion was welcomed, even if holding it would leave her a bit messy.

She spent the remainder of her meal trying to leave a good impression. Any bit of tuna which fell from between her slices of toast, was quickly scooped into her fingers and offered to the hungry feline. The cat, whom was perfectly willing to take just about any food which might be given to them, offered no protest. The faintest of laughs would escape her at the feel of the animal’s coarse tongue gliding across her skin. She really did adore cats. Any animal, really. If it was willing to give her the time of day, then she would drop virtually any task to enjoy her time with them. As the animal stepped onto her knee once again and stretched their body for the sake of reaching high enough to lick her chin, thoughts of venturing out to acquire a pet of her own floated into her mind. These apartments were fit to accommodate pets, and all she would need to do was see to it that a pet deposit was paid.

So in all accounts, she was free to get a pet if she wanted. The only real issue would be convincing her partner to allow her to adopt one. Of all the things for them to have never discussed, it was whether or not they would bring an animal into their household. The question was, would it be dangerous to get a pet? She would do nothing to harm any animal which she decided to adopt, but, this did not mean that her mate would behave in a similar manner. If she were to get a pet, would her partner take to using it as a means of getting the upper hand in an argument? Would he threaten to hurt the animal if he felt she was being disobedient? They had never brought any sort of living animal into their home. She had nothing to use as a means of determining whether or not he would treat an animal as horribly as he did her. Would he have a reason to, though?

He was possessive of her because he viewed her as his property, and suspected that she might be stolen by another man at any moment. Would he feel a similar level of possession for an animal? He was convinced that she would betray him at any moment, and run away with another man. A dog or a cat, however, did not behave in such a manner. A soft huff escaped her as she reluctantly pushed the feline away from her. She gently slid the creature off of her leg, offering them the last bite of her sandwich before standing up to make her way back inside. She could not trust her mate enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. If she were to bring an animal into the household, any harm that might befall it would be her responsibility. Her partner was a violent man who was quick to raise his fists in the event of things not going the way that he wanted them to. There was no guarantee that he would not hurt an animal if they adopted one.

So, unfortunately, she could not provide a safe home to any sort of pet that she might want. Picking up the plate once her visitor had finished licking up the last few bits of tuna that had rested on it, she gave them one last pat on the head before turning and making her way up the stairs. At this point, it was safe to state that she was depressed. A pet would probably do her some good, since she was in a situation where it was virtually impossible to acquire any sort of genuine affection from anyone. Her mate was only nice when he wanted something. Namely, when he felt that he had done a good job at establishing control over her, and felt that she would need a reward if he wanted her to remain obedient. Work life? She hardly knew any of her coworkers thanks to her mate’s rules. An addition to this being that, as of now, most of her Subjects had yet to show any signs of developing fond emotions for her.

She was emotionally starved, to say the least; but getting a pet seemed to be out of the question. To bring an animal into a dangerous situation would be a terrible thing to do. As horrible of a person as she believed that she was, she at least knew she was better than the people who abused animals without any sense of guilt. After making her way back up the stairs, the woman pushed through the unlocked door and made her way back into the kitchen. She rinsed off her plate, and tended to any other dishes that had been left unattended. Really, at this point she was just trying to keep herself occupied until her partner came back home. She knew what he would expect of her once he returned. To put it bluntly, she was not looking forward to it. If anything, the idea alone proved to be enough to make her skin crawl. She would be putting off her shower until after he had finished using her as a means of fulfilling his twisted urges.

She continued to occupy herself by tending to the house whilst she waited for his return. Given the small size of the area, there was not much for her to do considering how on top of things she was prone to being. There was next to no dust on the floor when she swept. She mopped, despite there being nothing noticeable on the ground to wipe away. The counters were clean, but she still cleaned them. Anything to keep her mind occupied, whilst she waited for her partner to come back from the bar. When she could do nothing else in the kitchen, she began to make her way throughout the rest of the house to work. She straightened out the bed. Upon realizing that she had left her phone unplugged, she connected it to the charger and trusted that it would not be moved for the rest of the night. When she finally heard the door open, she had lost any means of fighting off the paranoia.

The worst thing about being in an abusive relationship, was not the beatings. She could handle the abuse, and had managed to do so rather well thus far. No, the worst thing about being in an abusive relationship, was the inability to have control over her own body. She dressed according to what her work, and what her partner, felt was most appropriate; only succeeded in wearing her own attire when it came to finding a loophole in the rules. Her eating schedule was set up according to the desires of other people. Her lunch time being assigned to her by someone of higher authority at work, while breakfast and dinner were set up according to what her partner expected. When it came to sex, she could offer no argument. Either do as he wanted and offer no form of protest, or deal with his fists. She had made the reluctant choice to simply let him do as he pleased, for the sake of reducing the damage done to her own body.

Or, maybe she should start to call it his body at this point. Considering that everything that she put on or did to her frame, was done in a way that would abide by the laws of other people. She said nothing as he made his way throughout the house. His lack of verbal commentary was a slight relief, considering the situation. He was not one for sweet talk, and when he did try and speak to her at times such as this, the conversations were far from pleasant. There was little time to contemplate whether or not tonight would be the night that she decided to fight back. Fight back as in pick up the lamp resting on the nightstand and smash it into the base of his skull to get him off of her. The scent of alcohol was overwhelming as he forced himself onto her. She hated it when he drank. When he drank before sex, she could taste it on him whenever he forced her into a kiss. He had gotten into the strong stuff tonight.

The sort of booze that parents would advise most children to stay away from, because of its high alcohol content. For the sake of keeping her wits about her, she did all that she could to refrain from locking lips with him more than needed. In her mind, he would intoxicate her and leave her body sickly and corrupted. The alcohol in his breath would only make it easier for him to tear her apart completely.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Even at times when he had been seeking intimacy, he was prone to leaving marks. Dark patches shown on her skin where his teeth had been pressed against her throat and shoulders. She dared not call them hickeys. To refer to these painful marks as a blemish left upon the skin by a lover, would mean to call their relationship one of love. She would not lie to herself in such a manner. Nor would she give an otherwise playful means of showing affection, the same title as his methods of marking her as his property. Bruises shown proudly around her hips. The markings forming a handprint. Proof that even when she refrained from resisting him, he would do whatever he could to make sure that she remained submissive. She had left the bed as soon as he had finished with her. He had offered no protest, as usual. Neither of them were eager to produce offspring.

He would have ordered her to go clean herself had she not already made the move to do so. She disliked having to look onto the markings that he left upon her skin. There was little that she would be able to do to conceal them. Tomorrow their color will have darkened, and her only option will be to hope that no one called attention to them. Especially her subjects. After nights such as this, she could swear that their eyes would linger upon the marks. She would feel their gaze fixate upon the blemishes, and would be left feeling incredibly uneasy until it came time to leave. Tomorrow was unlikely to be a different scenario. Unless her Subjects decided that they would lash out at her. As far as she could guess, that was what they seemed to contemplate whenever she stepped into their territory bearing the wounds of war. This was a situation where time was not on her side.

Eventually, she was going to slip up. She might wind up getting a leg caught by the jaws of death as she tried to pass through the automated doors. Her mate might snap and do away with her, resulting in his execution in the process. Or, perhaps it would be one of her Subjects. Docile as they would behave while she was in the room, she had seen the complete details of their history. She knew that every one of those under her care, were perfectly capable of turning around and tearing into her like a piece of rotten meat. There was no telling exactly who or what would wind up bringing her life to an end; but she could rest assured that eventually, she would die. Either through the deliberate actions of another living being, or as a result of her own carelessness. The burn of the water as it ran across her skin, only reminded her of the damage that had been done to her body.

The marks on her neck were surprisingly sensitive to temperature. Most likely because the skin itself had been left incredibly tender, thanks to the frequent assault of his teeth. Part of her felt that she would find blood trickling down her bodice once she began to scrub the painful injuries. Her partner had, in her mind, damaged the skin to the point that it might peel away at the slightest contact. The wounds felt similar to blisters, when it came to the level of pain. So why would her flesh not split and break after being chewed to the point that it was left raw? Thankfully, reality proved to differ from her imagination. As she ran the damp cloth across her skin, it did not peel away and leave her as a bleeding mess. Sore as the area was, the damage was not severe enough to create an injury which would require antibiotics. No, it would only serve as a physical reminder of how horrific her life had become.

She cleaned the entirety of her body as though it had been soaked in ink. Every touch of her partner leaving some sort of physical proof of his presence. Proof which she only wanted to wash away, for the sake of pretending that this incident had never occurred come morning. Denial was her most important survival tactic, on nights such as this. Wash away the sin and act as though the disgusting acts had never been carried out with. By the time she felt content with how well she had washed her frame, most of her skin was left as tender as the markings on her neck. She would scrub herself raw time and time again, if only to clear away the proof of nights such as this. No real effort was put into drying her soaked bodice. She lazily rubbed the towel against her hair as she sat upon the toilet. The lid sported a soft fabric cover, which absorbed any fluid that rolled down her body.

When it came to drying off, she often let gravity do the work. The cold air would draw goosebumps to her skin, and the slight trembling brought on by the cold would coax the water into running down her skin. By the end of it, everything but her hair would be left dry; and the toilet lid would be damp. Any water left in her hair would be taken with her to bed. As such, she slipped back into her nighttime attire, taking comfort in the texture of the fabric as it rubbed against her sore frame. Following this, it was all a short trip from the bathroom to the bedroom. Her partner lay sleeping comfortably beneath the covers, and as much as she detested it, she had little choice but to join him. She honestly found it odd that such a violent man would be so insistent on sharing a bed with his victim. She was not allowed to sleep anywhere but beside him. The only acceptation being that she was able to sleep alone, on nights when he did not come home.

At times, she would wonder if he was cheating on her. A man who believed women were his property was unlikely to have any real idea of loyalty. Women were only good when they were willing to stay by their man, and they were only allowed to be with one. Men, on the other hand, were viewed fondly by succeeded to draw as many women to them as possible. A horrible double-standard, which she secretly despised. Were it not for the fact that she had learned not to comment on such things in front of him, she would voice her opinion. Exhausted, but not simply because of the physical strain brought on by the days events, she proceeded to climb into the bed. Her partner showed no signs of being disturb as she forced her bodice beneath the covers. The warmth of the blankets would be well worth being trapped beside him for the night. Settling down, she rolled to face away from him.

As horrible as the day was, it was just another less appealing day in her generally terrible life. There were days that were going to be worse than this. Days that were going to be somewhat better, although they would still be laced with unease. Tugging at the blankets, she pressed her face into her pillow. Events like this, were what would make her wish she had a pet. Some sort of animal or companion that she could hold on to, without fear of being reprimanded for her emotions. The cat that came tonight, had been a special treat. She was tempted to start enjoying late night snacks outside, if only to try and coax the animal into visiting her on a regular basis. She might not be able to have a pet, but, there was no harm in befriending a stray, right? She would not put the feline in any sort of danger, if all she ever did was share a snack with them at night.