I remember a story of my mother from when she was still very young:

All that she went through was totally unexpected, but she was the perfect girl for it, and it won her the greatest honor by so many all around her. She was so young, and so kind, and beautiful in every way (I don't have pictures, but everyone says so). It was back before America, back in a kingdom, and the king sent someone down to talk to her; although she was quite young, she was strong enough for what he asked her, and he knew it, too. He could see in her a strength that had come from those years of her childhood, spent in service to him. Now it was her turn to go to him. They were espoused, and she bore a son, and this son grew to save the human race. And he honored his mother and named her the queen, and all future generations, seeing him as their brother, likewise honored her, and loved her, and still today call her mother.

And she is the model of a woman; the most beautiful one I can imagine and the most kind one I know. She knew that it was not strength of arm or power or wealth that gave her importance as a woman. No, rather, it was something so much deeper. She wasn't caught up in what those around her thought, who lacked wisdom and were lured by glamour. No, rather, she recognized one opinion that mattered, and that was not opinion but truth, and perfect wisdom. And she followed it with love. And she is forever loved for that.

They want you quiet,obedient.

Minding your manners.

Remembering your place.

They lie if they tell you different.

They are the boss, the commanders.

The proprietor of the estate.

You will never work as hard as they do.

Their job is always more demanding.

Yours is just a hobby to pass the time.

If they tell you different, it’s to pacify you.

It’s beneath them to be understanding.

You will never be an equal in their mind.

To them you are inferior, weak.

To them you are not special.

They do not care about you.

You are not worth their time or energy.

You are a burden, a let down.

You’re “in a pinch she’ll do”.

You just exist.

Present in a world that isn’t a gift to you.

You’re just a face in a crowd.

You could disappear and not be missed.

This should be something you’re used to.

Being without the right, no power, no clout.

They have the upper hand.

Rights given to them by majority vote.

They get to be who they choose.

Say or do what they please, without remand.

This should be something you already know.

Something you should be accustomed to.

The deck is stacked against you.

The rules are set in stone.

This is the law of the land.

If they tell you different, it’s not the truth.

Swallow your nerve, bite your tongue.

Or…..

Be a rebel and take back your left hand.

"Alexa, play my playlist 'Rampage' on shuffle please" Rob Zombie's Superbeast begins to play over the speakers of her van as she starts to accelerate onto the turnpike. Click. Click. Click. The blinker alerts other drivers as she moves across the asphalt to the fast lane. She charges up the turnpike, making 26 minutes feel like 10. Before she arives at her destination she is met by cop cars and police tape. Must be the shooting she saw on the news the night before. A man gunned down in a parkinglot of a pharmacy. After she passes the scene she is met by others. Less welcoming than the officers she just passed by. Protesters. She drives past them, trying to ignore their words. A muscular man escorts her from her car to the doors of the clinic, but before she enters she can't hold her tongue any longer. People pleading with her, telling her she is a murderer, offering her help. "I like to help others as well, I just don't force people to accept and make them feel bad when they don't." The man opens the door for her and gives her a kind smile as she walks through. "I don't need help" she thinks to herself. They buzz her into the second door and the nurse begins the list of obligatory questions. After the final question she pulls out a large wad of cash and forks it over. A smile on her face, but inside there is a whirlwind of emotions, none of which will deter her from what she has come to do today, but raise anxiety within none the less. She glazes over most of her visit. Sweet considerate nurses. People compliment her astro puffs. Everyone trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible while she is in their care. Finally it is time to take the pills. The sedation and anti-anxiety medication first, then pain killers and 2 pills that she has to keep in her mouth for 30 minutes, then the 60 minute wait for them to take affect. It's finally time. Tears flow down her cheeks as she looks into the large glass dish. This was her choice. Only she can know what is truly best for herself, though it comes at a heavy cost. Her playlist resumes when her engine starts. Uprising by Muse plays over her speakers.

she commands the Galli with utmost power. it only takes a flick of her wrist, a kick of her boots, and the crew responds. even when she is on top of the mizzenmast, surveying from the crow's nest, Galli bends to her will. she knows how to read the winds, how to wayfind with only her fingers, how to charm men into spilling their guts and how to slaughter enemies fifteen different ways, each precise and refined. she loves the sea, and the sea loves her.

she was brought up in a seaside town, a small fishing establishment off the coast of middleguard. her father taught her nothing but the ocean. how to read the ride, how to catch crabs, how to find stars in relation to one another. her mother was never in the equation.

she loved the ocean. she learned to swim before she could walk. she collected kelp and dried it for her town's apothecary. all the villagers asked her about the weather, about if the storm would lick their yards, if today was a good day for fishing. she knew. she didn't know because she read the ocean, but it was because the ocean told her. the ocean leaned over and whispered in her ear.

she took her gift for the water out at the ripe age of 8. accompanying her father on a month-long trading journey. he came back with stories of her shrieking with joy at the pod of dolphins that had run into, and her uncanny sense for calibrating the sails as the winds changed.

and when her father requested the legendary ace sunwheel, she vowed to find it. she stepped foot on the gangplank of her own ship at 14, and never looked back.

even as her crew sails around the mediterranean, transporting royal liquor and punishing thieves, the ocean speaks to her. sometimes, she tastes the wind, and commands the crew south. after grumbling, they do. and then, they'll find treasure of a shipwreck or a beautiful sunset. some form of value.

the sea tosses her around. picks her ship up by it's bow and throws it into the waves. as much as she loves playing with the sea, her crew doesn't appreciate drowning. she thinks they are wimps. even though she is at sea because of Galli, and her crew, and the sunwhweel, it's mostly because the ocean loves her.

The tears streamed down from her face as she felt the rage fill her body. She winced as she hoisted herself up from the ground. Her ribs were cracked, weren’t they? She scanned the alleyway. They just missed her. She almost cried out as she lifted her bruised body out of the dumpster.

She collapsed once she hit the ground, holding herself as the sobs escaped her, the knife tumbling out of her hand. What hurt more than anything wasn’t the physical pain, but the betrayal. Jane sold her out. Jane was the one who killed her sister. The realization was worse than all the kicks she received. Jane, the girl who she laughed with every day, who walked with her to school, who made her lunch when she was running late, who meant the world to her, who she loved more than anything.

But Jane killed her sister. And for what? A ring? Something as worthless as a ring? This wasn’t the girl she once knew. That girl had died long before her sister did.

A newfound strength filled her body as she forced herself off the ground, her head spinning as she stood up. She knew what she had to do, even if it destroyed her piece by piece. The tears wouldn’t stop falling as she picked up the knife, as she limped home, and as she began to plan. She would have to kill her best friend.