Diachronically

It happened gradually, in bursts and lapses of time.

She had sandy blonde curls with a purple top that ruffled into a sweetheart design. 

A smile that would capture the world. 

She would be a queen one day but for now, she was a fucking princess.

Within that fat city, no understanding. The world was at her disposal and magic was real. Sippy cups reappeared upon request. She squealed uninhibited with joy and delight and nobody seemed to mind. 

The Jersey shore lapped up around her and sunshine highlighted her hair in a moment that would be captured as her parents favorite photo for years to come. She was ignorant of the vast ocean that could swallow her whole or the SPF 50 that decorated her still porcelain Irish baby skin. 

Such a moment of delight had escalated upon a slight silver gleam upon the sand. The minnow lay motionless in such a graveyard of fish. The fleshy nubs of toddler phalanges gathered the fish as the stumpy legs trod to the nearest captured pool on the beach. Tenderly, the minnow was deposited into its much needed life force,  but the fish rested in its aqueous tomb.

Years had passed along with multiple lessons regarding animal mortality. Nothing was easier, but the idea of acceptance had become a reasonable concept. She grew up slightly sheltered, yet so loved. Typically, she loved all Disney movies. However, she did not have a stereotypical mother or upbringing and a steady diet of Tim Burton originals had also been worked into her regimen from around the age of her first encounter with death that day on the beach. 

Yet the judgement regarding certain cinematic creations had been entrusted to family members which were childless for many years, and the Motion Picture Association of America had not yet become a bureaucracy of pussies. "Radio Flyer" made it's debut into her impressionable seven-year-old mind. The older of the two male child characters was around her age at the time. Desperately, this boy protected his younger brother from the beatings of their raging alcoholic stepfather, who kept a fully stocked icebox of beer in the garage, unbeknownst to the mother. The images were automatically related to her own life. 

Her father drank beer. She hated her father every time he put a bottle to his lips. He asked her for permission every time he wanted another. The night her parents played their annual Hearts game with friends, he didn't ask. After individually keeping tally of the six glass bottles he gathered that evening, she silently cried herself to sleep in the warmth of her Minnesota sleeping bag. She would vow to never drink alcohol once she was an adult.

As she entered high school, she still remained steadfast to her oath of never drinking. Fear, had however, been replaced by a simple lack of desire. While she dressed daily for her first experience with Catholic school, her favorite person lay dying in a bed. Her grandfather had done strange, unexplainable things years earlier, such as give away the family dog due to new housing developments in the field areas where he used to take the black lab/golden mutt for her daily walks. The thought of allowing the dog to use his yard to defecate was not even considered as an option. 

Eventually he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease and she found herself in completely unfamiliar territory deeply involved for the first time with a disease of the psyche. The future actions and images would forever seat themselves into her Sophomore-year mind: 

The plank of wood being smashed into the previously working lawnmower in an attempt to mend a nonexistent ailment of the poor machine. A gradual obsession with Burger King combined with many actual escapes; always as he headed for The King. The pathetic point in which he faded in and out, knowing what he had and apologizing to those he came in contact with before another episode began.

The first night he spent in a professional home where his loving family brought him pie and he asked when they were all going home. As he gradually deteriorated into a bed and wheelchair, once grabbing the chair padding and using it as a machine gun as he stated "Quick! The Bullets Are Flying!!!" 

Then finally, the night he passed away remains her eeriest experience to date. The family had gathered. She was the last to enter the room. When her father whispered in his ear "she's here", her grandfather's heart-rate lurched forward.....and he was gone thirty seconds later. Then the tears came; as she desperately wanted nothing more than to escape the attempted comfort of the room; to be swallowed alive by the heinous beige walls. 

It was her pivotal moment where she lost her innocence. The return to school began with a more observational outlook on life; something that would remain and develop further with every passing year. 

The Catholic school had become a prison full of hypocrites. Saying the prayer before the pledge. Being required to pray before every class. The students filed off their prayer requests like they were ordering their fast food during their ciggy and lunch break. "I have two specials, 8 families, 1 friend, and 3 situations". She had never questioned her faith; the faith that her beloved grandfather helped foster for years. Now she not only questioned everything, but rejected it as well. 

Faith ping-ponged around during her college years where she met her to be husband. For four years the red and green flags waived in and out of her line of sight. He wasn't a gentleman. He was honest. He was funny. He was a cheapskate. He had commitment issues. He was a genius. He was pretentious about the fact that he was a genius. He loved music. He loved the same movies. He wanted to travel. He despised plants and animals. Yet he wanted her despite these difference.

It didn't matter and her naive innocence was back in force. She was blind and already on her path to cross off her next life event. 

Meet the man. Check. 

Get married. Check. 

Buy the house. Check. 

And yet the problems grew and the fights were always the same. They slept on different levels of their house for the first time ever; counseling became a means to reach the best decision through a third party rather than reignite what was never meant to be. 

From an outside perspective, there would be no reason to drop the "D" word. 

No abuse. 

No cheating. 

Yet ultimately she destroyed a man, choosing her happiness over his own. 

A little less than a year later, she began to explore for perhaps the first time. She hadn't slept around in high school; in fact, she found it painful to speak to her love interest of the opposite sex. She dated several people, all of which completely opposed her former husband. This was her 20's, except with the maturity of her 30's.

Blindfolded, gagged, and tied, he entered her again as he vaginally fucked her with the giant strap-on from behind. Right at the height of her pleasure, her blindfold and gag would be released as she dropped to her knees, hands still bound behind her back. He gave several deep-throated thrusts before removing her two senses again. She was playfully shoved downwards onto the bed as he ate out her ass. At the height of her squeal through the ball-gag, which gave a strange airy whistle through the breathing holes, she felt the depth of the strap-on enter her again. So many housewives got wet over the thought of a 50-shades-of-grey lifestyle and yet here she was. This private, new part of her life that most could never imagine. Sex with power. 

Innocence was obliterated and she loved it. She loved to turn pain and turmoil into something beautiful. She was a queen.