Feminist fiction; Historical fiction; Southern States -- Fiction; Women -- Southern States -- Fiction; Women authors -- Fiction
She bent and stirred the fire. Outside the gusty wind went by and the
rain beat upon the windows. "I know that there are marriages where
woman is the ruiner. There are women who are wreckers. They fasten
themselves on a man's life and drain it dry. They are devil-fish. They
hold him in their arms and break his bones. They're among the worst of
us struggling here in the pit. They're wicked women. They may be fewer
than wicked men, or they may be equal in number, I don't know. I'm not
talking of wicked men or wicked women in that sense. I'm talking of men
whom the world does not call wicked, and of a great army of women like
myself, an army that stretches round the world and through hundreds of
years.... An army? It isn't an army. We never had any weapons. We were
never taught to fight. We were never allowed to ask questions. We were
told there were no questions to ask. We were young girls, dreaming,
dropped into the wolf pack ... and it goes on all the time. It is going
on now. It may be going on when Betty grows up--though I'll tell her!
You needn't be afraid. I'll tell her....
"That wedding trip--that honeymoon. I had married a handsome beast--a
cruel one, too. He treated me like a slave, bought for one purpose,
wanted for one purpose, kept for one purpose. I wasn't enough for
him--I found that out very soon. But those others were freer than I.
They made him pay them.... He would have said that he paid me, too;
that he supported me. Perhaps it's true. I only know that I am going to
have Betty taught to support herself."
"You should have left him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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