IVY RUTHERFORD
☆ FULL NAME: Ivy Cadence Rutherford ☆ GENDER: Cisfemale ☆ PRONOUNS: She/Her ☆ AGE: 26 (January 9th, 1998) ☆ TYPE: Adopted sibling; solo ☆ HOMETOWN: Los Angeles, California ☆ JOB: None ☆ SCHOOL: Freshman, majoring in Marketing ☆ SEXUALITY: Fluid ☆ FACECLAIM: Antonia Gentry
ABOUT IVY
TW: Abuse - emotional, psychological, physical, sexual, and controlled eating
Growing up in the spotlight was just never easy for Ivy. She just never really understood who she was as her own person. She was shy and quiet, and she never knew it was just her, or if it was a result of being adopted, and not knowing biologically who she was, but she felt lost. She tried so hard to fit in in school, often compromising her own opinions and values just to seem like she agreed with the crowd. In fact, that was how she ended up with Isaiah in the first place, she had become a cheerleader, and he played football, and everyone just assumed they should be together, so she agreed. She didn’t even really like him that much, she barely even knew him, but she ended up with him for 2 years before she turned 18, and when she did turn 18, he proposed to her, right on her birthday. Of course, she couldn’t bring herself to say no, no one would have liked that, and so she agreed. And barely even a few months later they were married.
From the day they were married, Ivy knew she’d made a mistake in not standing up for herself. Isaiah believed himself the head of the household, and she was quickly thrown into the tradwife lifestyle against her will. Every morning she woke up before him, got his clothes ready, got his breakfast and lunch ready, and made sure the house was perfectly clean. She spent her days while he was at work at his father’s business participating in various activities he prescribed, which included cleaning the house, working out, various church clubs, time for prayer, and of course making sure a perfectly prepared meal was waiting for him, hot and ready, as soon as he walked in the door, then she would clean up while he relaxed, listen to him tell her about his day or, whatever he felt like talking about, while she sat quietly. Finally, they’d spend an hour reading (always books of his choosing) before heading to the bedroom, where she was to perform her final wifely duty of the night, and then they’d sleep.
It was not just the monotony of it all that was making her miserable, though that was awful, it was that she had absolutely no free will of her own. She picked Isaiah’s clothes each day and laid them out for him, but he chose what she was allowed to wear. Nothing in her entire closet was anything she chose, and rather what he’d tell her to buy. The soaps, lotions and perfumes she used on her body were scents that he preferred. She was not allowed make up, and her workouts were carefully constructed by him, a detailed list of what she’d do and how many reps at the gym each day (which she’d have to show proof of completing), and even the food she ate was his choice. She drank only water, occasionally permitted a lemon slice for flavor on special occasions. She was tasked with cooking delicious meals, but he would approve of her plate before she could eat, often scraping some off and making comments about keeping her figure. Even when she would give herself such a small helping, certain that he’d be pleased, he would always take some away, just to be in control. He would check the fridge each day before he left, counting how many containers of yogurt there were, weighing the bag of grapes, so that when he got home, if he had any suspicions of her overeating he could check. She’d have to strip naked and step on the scale each night before having sex, and once a week he would pull out a measuring tape to check that she had not grown.
All of it was degrading, and unbearable, but not nearly as unbearable as each month when her period would come and Isaiah would lecture her, that she wasn’t bearing children because she wasn’t dedicated enough to being a good wife. Of course, he didn’t know about the birth control she managed to get and hide in with her cleaning supplies, but she would nod in agreement, promising to try harder, to do better. It wasn’t long before things got worse, Isaiah would come and drink, too much stress from work had him constantly angry. He’d always find ways to take it out on Ivy, whether it was degrading her, or punishing her, her punishments coming in multiple forms, both physical and sexual. He’d tell her constantly that if she was a better wife, he wouldn’t have to be so angry all the time, work wouldn’t stress him out if he had a happier home. Eventually, he decided that he was too sexually repressed by Ivy, and that they’d need to be more experimental if he was to ever feel happy again. Ivy felt she had no choice but to agree, because disagreeing would mean she was subjected to what he wanted all the same, but that he’d just be angry about it.
The abuse escalated, in all aspects, from both him, and even some of his friends who he allowed to participate. She was also no longer allowed to leave the house. Groceries were delivered, her workouts were done at home, and everything she did was under his observation on various cameras he had set up. It was a living nightmare, and she didn’t know how much more living she could handle. One day when he was away at work, she finally found herself snapping out of it. She had a chance to leave, it wasn’t often she did, she was a captive in her own home, but the fridge had broken, and a new one was being delivered. She knew he would be watching the whole time, he made sure of that, but he couldn’t teleport home, could he? If she begged for help, then she could get out of the house before he could get to her. And that’s just what she did. The poor men delivering the fridge thought she was crazy, but took pity on her and let her into their truck where they dropped her off at a hospital.
The hospital called the police, of course, seeing very obvious signs of abuse all over Ivy, including deep scars on her skin from the past years of abuse, but she refused to speak to them, to tell them what was going on. She just wanted to be away from it all. Instead, she called her brother, asked to stay with him. She didn’t tell him all of it, but she told him enough to make him agree to let her stay with him for the time being until she could get on her feet. It’s been 6 months now since she’s found freedom, and it’s been difficult, accepting that she can make her own choices. Often apologizing to her brother for eating more than she should, or not cleaning enough out of habit. She started school at PSU as a marketing major. She has no clue what she wants out of life, but figured something in business would at least open some doors to different opportunities for her.
FAMILY BACKGROUND
If you are a sports fan, specifically a Football fan then you might now Arlo Rutherford who was an amazing football Quaterback in his early 20s which he retired from when him and his wife Odette started their family. He then moved to being a Commentator for Football as well a well known sports agent to stay in the sports world whist his children was growing up. Whilst Odette worked as Lawyer, they worked well to bring up their children and be a working family.