i just wanna believe in me ,,

[eugenia faith williford]

With a delicate smile, the blond flicked her braid back behind her shoulder, her blue eyes gazing tiredly at her husband as he cradled their newborn son. Only four days old, he was a tiny little thing, practically disappearing into the blankets his young mother had wrapped him in. As her eyes drifted over the baby's blue eyes and dark downy hair, Ginny could only smile, enraptured with his little hands and feet; he was the first joy she'd found since her marriage ten months ago. She knew he was only the first of many children she would have, most of her husband's older wives had ten or more children, but in that moment she couldn't imagine loving another half as much. "God instructed me to name him Josiah," the older man broke the silence, the baby's tiny hand curled around his father's tough, fat index finger. Ginny nodded, her gaze travelling from her husband and baby out the window when a harsh breeze hit the side of the old house. "Of course, as God told you," she agreed, completely believing him. Taking the baby when he held him out to her, she carried him over to his little bassinet, setting him down until he grew hungry again.

Joining her husband on the edge of the bed, Ginny smiled just slightly, wishing he would go on his way and expect nothing out of her tonight. When he reached in his pocket for one of his pills, Ginny's lip curled, clearing her throat as he reached across her for the mason jar she was using as a glass, timidly telling him, "I, um, I'm still in a lot of pain." He chuckled as he sat back, looking at her like she was a silly child, "I know. This is my seventy-second child." Pulling the hair tie from her braid, he undid the style with his fingers, slowly running his fingers through her hair once it was all loose. Ginny kept her hands in her lap, her eyes shutting, trying to get away in her mind from what was happening as he told her softly, "You're so pretty. The prettiest of all my wives." As he covered her mouth with his, instantly forcing his tongue into her mouth in an overly wet kiss, Ginny stiffened, wanting to spit his kiss out, before remembering she needed to fake enjoyment as he touched her sensitive breasts, causing her to groan in pain, a sound he took to mean enjoyment. When at last his pill had kicked in, he pulled away, stroking her hair once more as he commanded, "Get on you knees, on the floor." Gazing at him, confused, she blinked, "Are we praying, now?" even more confused when he shook his head. Lowering herself onto her knees before where he sat on the bed, confused, she did as he instructed. Her confused look grew even more befuddled as he dropped his trousers around his ankles, exposing himself before her. "Wh-what are we doing," his bride asked shakily, frightened and confused. Looking at her with a controlling, powerful smile, "Just cover me with your mouth," his head tipping back with pleasured sounds when she gave into his request, knowing dissent would get her nowhere, just a bruise or two.

When the filthy, nasty deed was done, the girl grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand, about to spit when he caught her. "We can't spill seed," he said with a chastising shake of his head, "Swallow." Resenting the way he used a biblical passage against her, the girl swallowed it down, nearly gagging it back up. As her husband redid his trousers, ready to move on to a different wife or perhaps back to his bed, Ginny checked a final time on her baby before crawling into her bed that creaked loudly with her weight. Pulling the covers up to her chin, a few tears pooled beneath her eyes. This newest degrading act had broken another part of her. Stepping over to his little wife, the older man touched her cheek, smiling fondly down at her, immune to her tears. "You know you're my favorite, right?" he assured as he tapped his youngest wife, a month shy of fourteen, on the nose like an affectionate father.

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Wretching with a few tears rolling down her cheeks, the young girl woke from her nap, curled up in her small uncomfortable little seat against the covered window. Shaking her blond head, she scrubbed her cheeks with a corner of the old quilt she had tossed over her. Why she had relived that night in her dream just then she knew not, nor did she know why reliving it upset her so. She understood her place; those sort of favors were just a wife's duty, that was what she was supposed to do. But lately everything was terribly messed up in her mind, a true culture clash. Having never really been in the outside world before, except to run errands and things like that, Ginny knew nothing about these people except that they were the immoral enemy who only wanted to bring the holy ones on the compound down. Her prejudices aside, however, the ones she had met seemed nice, though she didn't understand what she was saying that was so wrong as to constantly keep removing her further and further away from her family. Clearly, she had done something wrong, she just didn't know what that was. Why else would she be coming here for sexual abuse?

At the announcement that they were starting their descent into Missoula, the still groggy Ginny began to fold her tattered quilt into as small a square as she could manage, instantly missing its warmth. Setting the blanket in her lap, she looked coldly at the woman across the aisle eying her attire and hairstyle. Her clothes were not particularly normal when she had been in the city when she lived in Texas, but especially here she doubted they were seen often at all. With only two other dresses in a pale green and a pale blue packed away in her old suitcase her only clothes, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to fit in wherever she was going. She wasn't sure how comfortable she would be in anything else, having always worn the drab prairie-style clothing that covered all her skin except her hands and face all her life. Her hair, puffed up in the front and French braided down the back, she'd only ever let down at night when she was alone or with her husband. Doing anything else would be weird for her.

Standing when the seat belt light went off, Ginny stretched her stiff muscles. She'd never been on a plane before today and she wasn't much taken with them. Cold and cramped did not suit her. Shuffling into the aisle, rather empty as most of the passengers had disembarked in Denver, Ginny popped open the overhead bin to remove an old leather suitcase. Stepping out of the aisle, she set it down to put her old quilt back, the large thing still not fully filling the small suitcase that contained everything the girl owned. Latching the case back together, Ginny slipped into the aisle, filing slowly toward the terminal. She wasn't sure who exactly was meeting her, the social worker had simply told her someone from Deercreek would be there to take her back to the facility. As she headed out the terminal, following the crowd of other passengers toward the greeting area, her cheeks flushed a dark red, aware she looked very different from everyone else and more than a few pairs of eyes were on her. As they came into view of the waiting area, she was the image of poverty and some obscure lifestyle in her old-fashioned clothing, strangely done-up hair, ripped denim jacket (clearly not bought that way), and beaten up black leather suitcase.

tagged , sadie jackson
words , 1335
lyrics , believe in me - demi lovato
notes , dude, i'm excited for this first thread.
and sorry about using a flashback... i try not to, but she's just too good a character to not.
outfit , here