I'm Victoria Kirkland.. Representative of Seychelles.. Age 21.. Married to Dylan Kirkland, a.k.a. Wales.. Mother of a three month old boy, Simon.. I live in Cardiff with my son and 35 year old husband whom I met when his youngest brother Arthur took me to a big conference meeting.. I know what you're thinking, 21 and 35.. A bit of an age gap, no? And married at 21.?! What can I say? I was young and impressionable..

Life is fine.. I never got around to having that breast reduction, and I never ended up cleaning out that old box of child hood toys I kept.. Maybe it's not fine but I don't like to wallow in self pity.. My husband had been going through a rough time and took up drinking shortly after our honey moon.. It doesn't help that he was already very controlling.. I have no say in anything, I'm just his silent, obedient house wife.. And that just doesn't work for moi..

I sat there, sitting on our marital bed; rocking our baby boy. I glanced over at the clock, 6:30 P.M. My husband will be home soon, I sigh to myself.. I do care about him and all, but he's made my life practically not worth living over the three years we have been married..

"Victoria! Victoria where are you?!" I hear him shout in an angry voice as he walks through the front door.

"In Simons room.." I say as I get up and put Simon in his room, tucking in the small blue eyed, light brown haired baby then walking out into the hall way to him.

"Did you leave today? I don't like when you leave the house. I don't want you running off to other men like the filthy little whore I know you are deep down." he says in an angry tone as he crosses his arms.

"I just went to the store to buy the things you wanted..." I say as takes ah hand into a tight grip.

"Go get me a Guinness woman.. " He sighed and pulled me close then pushed me away as he closed his blue green eyes and moved his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Don't make me tell you twice this time." He recanted as he sat on their black leather couch.

"Yes dear..." I say meekly as I fetch him a beer then go to him. "Is this good enough?.." I ask carefully.

"It's up to my standards.." He said, pulling me up against him, wrapping an arm around my arm and placing a hand on one of my rather large, E cup, breast.

I blush, "D-Dylan stop it.. You know they're sensitive.." I was quite flat chested all my life, but once I hit 17 they got big.

I watch my rather handsome, rugby playing, teacher, husband set down his drink the glare at me. "What did you say Victoria?"

"I was wondering if you could not handle them so roughly.." I Whimper..

I close my eyes but as soon as I do I feel a hand coming down onto my cheek. "Don't tell me what to do slut...!" He yells.

"I-I'm sorry...!" I cry out as I put a hand directly to the red, sticking sensation that has engulfed my cheek.

"Better be.." He mumbles, then hiccups a small burp, tasting and smelling of alcohol.

A while after that we head to our bed room. It's a white colored room with red and blue colored Curtains. The bed is nice and big, it's got a green bed spread. Maps and posters adorn the walls, there's a huge book self with every book imaginable. I like the dresser with the mirror, it's got a picture of Dylan and I. When we were happy. When I was happy.

I remove my clothes while standing in front of our mirror. As I disrobe, I admire my body which is laced with bruises and cuts from my abusive husband. Not to sound full of myself, but my body used to be so perfect..

I used to smile so much.. Not anymore. I only smile for Arthur... Despite our rocky relationship, after I married his brother he was there for moi... I think to myself as I run my hands over my curves then suddenly hear a muffle moan from my husband.

I look over and he's already sound asleep.. Freedom till the beast wakes..