Thats what am called these days, Rachel the slut, i really dont care what they call me. I really dont care what they think about me.
Am siting here on this chair in my living room. Facing a panel. I was seated opposite my uncle-in-law, my Mother, my Uncle. And there also sat my Michel, my husband. I looked him over from head to toe. In his stifly ironed shirt, looking ridiculous as always. I wondered what made me marry someone like him in the first place. If i had a knife, i'ld stab him without flinching. He looked like a hurt puppy. Really annoying. I couldn't even stand to look at him. He was here, the hurt, betrayed husband. I looked away disgusted. Seated to his far right was Mark. Michel's bestfriend. The reason why i was here in this room . . . .
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