@shotbled / starter !
she’s blooming rage , hands tremoring at the injustice of it all . in truth , she harbours a bone - ache understanding ; how could she not ? the injustice of being a woman ; her mother , forced to lap meagre sustenance out of a strict , controlling hand until it left her bereft , no lifesaver in sight . but why ? why had it been her , kicked out of the house , unwanted , sent away . she’s in an unfamiliar town , derry / maine , her mother supplies her with , her tone soft & pitiful , like all women of the starling family look upon the other women .
she stares down at her hands . they are worn from dragging her heavy rucksack the few miles from the bus - stop to her uncles farm out in the woods . there is nothing here for miles , it seems . unfamiliar scapes & tall trees . her uncles cool eyes as they regard her , no love , only the look of a farmer’s eyes passing over product ; she is no better , worse even , than the cattle until she can be of use to her . she knows men like this , knows to keep her head down & lips sealed despite her thoughts / feelings / words bursting at seams .
she growls , the sound escaping guttural & helpless , stubs her toe hard against a tree . “ fuck ! ”