Vividly can I remember a girl who cried herself to sleep everynight. Who tried beyond her boundries for acceptance and her fathers love. Who would stare in the mirror in discust at an unslim body.

Till a man whose face I cannot make out, sweeps her off her feet. A world so big and full of adventure and love was she shown. A future of peace and prosparity was she promised.

But that was just a lie.

She awoke after the night her love had finally blossomed and shone, to greet only empty sheets. Gone were her clothes, her shoes, and jewles. Not to mention her dignancy as she met the maid, naked with nothing but the man's feathered captins hat.

What was she to do? The pain, anger, sadness, and rage that were building up within her made her fall to her knees in a shaky regret. She screams and throws vases, sheets, mirrors, shoes, all around the room. Till a maid of the Inn comes and holds her. How she hated herself for thinking that freedom was so close to her reach.

And that girl, was me. Long before I was myself.

Marianna Ducati, or as I am currently Known, Marie Jones.