At the age of twentytwo you should know how life goes. On the contrary, you will never know, if you can't live the right way. The fault is in the basics. My home is pretty - how should I say? - akward. Beating is a daily activity, I am the coward, but I couln't go away as I wished. To much pain and the future with the question, where should I am living then, let me stay at home to be the punchingbag.
At work I am the worker for all needed things. My boss asks after very curious stuff, like a coffee with a lot of white cream. As I am depending on the money, I must fullfil his orders. Otherwise I am good as dead, if I bring no money home. My other coworkers like to harass me in every situation, like in the moment. I should prepare a meeting, which needed more chairs, food and drinks. It is always the same. So Mr. Smith comes into the room to see, if it is all prepared. As he is finding no fault, he can't give me a speech of how a misinvestion I am being. His hand pushes accidently a bottle to the ground and complains about it. Time knows the best opportunity to beat me more, as the boss comes in.
"Olivia, clean the floor. We are not at a wild party to break bottles onto the ground." He doesn't even know, who smashed the glass, but I am the living victim of all done faults. Excuse my self sympathy, but it is the only thing I am good at.
As I clean the floor, I get punished on my back. My hands want to support my falling weight, but I can't hold it against the sharp, broken pieces. So in the following part my hands are bleeding like a rushing waterfall. For sure you can tell me to bind my wounds, but before I can care about them, my work must be done. On the other side my brain says to let Mr. Smith go away, because he doesn't know any better. Maybe he is the victim in that cause, opposite of my agressive thoughts against him. Some time can pass, but I will never forget that big abuse. My anger wants to break free, even if he is finishing in the city's court. I am going to take every punishment, only to stab him in the evil heart for once.
As the talking room is cleaned and brushed finally, I am going to the washroom to doctor my deep cuts. I don't want any marks, which contain my hits forever. I don't even want any wrong memories about the pushes against every thing, of my broken limbs and the worst words, that are falling at me like bread and fish from the blue heaven.

In some moments I do exactly know, that I am never getting a happy live. A happy ever after follows the same lead. My hands are facing my ellbows, holding them tightly around my chest. My future lays in the hands of my family and firm. I have no control about my suroundings, as I am wishing constantly.
You would tell me to get a back, but I can't do that. Every time I feel like getting respect for myself, my fear appears. That I would be falling deeper than before, which is actually a hyperbel. I am on the lowest niveau ever, I can't fall to the ground, if I am there. Ha, today I am really funny.

Tears are watering on my cheeks, down to the grey street. Truly, I am a hopless case, never finding any happiness or comfort in me or anybody else. Dragging myself to the city river, I enjoy the strong moving water. It is my place to concentrate on the right parts of the whole world. The thoughts about self suicide or a quick death seem to be  extinguished, as I am looking at the blue surface.

Little drops of water are spurting by litte animals. Frogs are croaking unendlessly, the wind is brushing through the woodland, so I am enjoying my free time. For a few moments I hope to be here forever. Never having to worry about my future, no guessing, if I am living tomorrow or be taken in a grave, like my true father at the cementery. Looking at my second-hand watch, it is already time to go home. Home is a horrible place without any emotional relations. I can feel the wounds at my back again, seperating the fresh bindings. A frown is put on my face, as I pull the doorbell. As the punchingbag I am not allowed to get a key, so I must meet a true family member. Just like my stepfather in the door frame. "Good afternoon, Sir", is my natural greeting, otherwise I would be punished for disrepect. In my family it is certain to get involved in abuse and anger issues. My parents and my two stepbrothers plus myself are members of a conservative sect. Since I am a little kid of seven years, I can only imagine it that way:
1) Never do something wrong, unless you want their fists on your body.
2) You must follow the rules, which are made by the greatest.
3) At the age of twentyfive you get married off with a guy in the sect.
So you have litte of an option to get away, because it is really hard to get over your parental education. It feels like betrayal, even if you are beaten every day to trash. Blue points are a definitely evidence for my badly treatment.

Obviously nobody cares enough to look even at me directly.
"Make dinner. Your Lady will be here in an hour. In the matter of fact, a suitor is coming at our place to, so you should wear something nice to please him."
I do exactly know, what the meaning has to be. Something low cutted and high bottomed. You must show your girlies, so he can see your offers perfectly.
My religion is really something suspectly. A woman like a piece of meat, as if I am not having any right to do, what I really want. Every human has the same equality, so it is inhuman not to follow them. Even diverse critical countries accept them as a daily activity. Huh, I am to desperate to have a great life. Only if I could live my dreams...

No, I should not thinking about something so irreal. Now I must preparing dinner, a noodle soup with beef. After that a good smelling lasagne, kind of homemade. Today I can eat with my so called family, because a suitor is here. Otherwise I would stay at the side, only taking orders to fullfil their needs for eat and drinks. The rests are considered for myself, if I had a good behaviour or our dog can feed on the wonderful rests. Sometimes I am on a lower level as our family dog Rufus. Okay, I can say the truth, I am a slave in my own family. Hurra. Cutting the bleeding meat into the water, I let it cooking. Between the boiling noodles and well doing beef, I lay the lasagne plates and the sausage plus cheese on a oven tablett. At the mean time I let it doing on itself, so I am waiting for a few minutes to let the products get ready. The culinary soup is ready to serve and the lasagne in roundabout ten minutes. Unless I want to get punished for letting my family and my suitor starving, I am decorating the desk and miscing drinks for the start. I bring them outside as the doorbell is loudly ringing.
"Hello. Do come in. I'm Olivia. Dinner is ready, I must only fetch the rest of my family. You can sit at the desk", I show him the way. Apperently, I must be a good looking catch, because he hits my ass pretty hard, so I'm falling forward. A step rescues myself of the bad hurr afterwards, but I choose to look normal, as if nothing happened. The question is: Who cares, if something is happening to me? I am a lone wolf amongst bad people. The air is breezing my ears, I couldn't go faster upstairs to signale my parents and brothers the appeariance of my suitor. They come rushing out of their rooms, to start the dinner.
As we are sitting and eating like true society members, my father starts to talk. At first about themes like weather or new inventions. As the dialogue reaches good ten minutes, the issue comes to handle. Me. In the matter of fact, my suitor Mr. Frank Burlon asks for my hand and my father gets a amount of money. I will never know how much I'm costing, but I can say, it is not a really high price.

"Twothousand. Much more and I am off. She is fragile, maybe she lasts ten more years, but that is nothing. She is going to be broken in a few month. I don't need a mindless creature."

These words are hurting me deeply. I am looking at my plate, so nobody can see me tearing. It is a shame. Truly, I am not worth it.

"She is a decent cook and for that price, she is the best you will get." Father's words let the intruder think about his choices. Either he takes me as his wife, so he can get a low priced cook, or else he is going off without anything valueable. It is a question of good managing.

"I take her. But I expect all the foreign things, because I am still in charge. If she lasts not longer than two years, I will get my money back."

"Olivia. Come on, a little bit faster. Pack your luggage and go with your future husband. He is a very important man, so he has not so much time unlike you", my brother cries upstairs.

I needed only a absolute time of ten minutes to push all my stuff in one coover and be ready. It is really not long, but for them it seems apperently like a eternity.

Now I am sitting in a car, driving to my next house to care off. But I am very good at imaging that I am replaceable. I am really not worth of a second thought, less a short amount of words.

"Have you any work to do?" The old man asks me rudely.

"Yes, Sir", is my answer. I can just hope that I may continue work, if I will be a great slave. What should I do without it? It would be a true torture, only being at my new home to cook and take the beats in. Actually I am not a punching bag to be whipped at every chance. Sadly, it is my daily routine, from which I cannot break free. My mind ist one of the subdominant kind, I do only overthink all things, so it is to late to handle my issues.

"I want you to break the contract. You have more time without working for minimal use. You are just here to bring me joys and be a good wife to fullfil all done needs. Breakfast, then lunch and at last dinner for my first family. You as my second wife, are going to bear me boys, because of my last wife, I only have two useless daughters. But in three years they are in an age to marry, so we will have our calm, if you can last so long."

After his little speech, I am afraid. What happens to me, when I can't please him enough? Will I be murdered or may I be dying on my own task. I haven't thougt clearly about suicide yet, but it will be a possibility to get away from this hell hole.