In the etiquette class, everything had a proper place and use—even me.
Succubus, siren, gold-digger, temptress: There are so many words for a woman with money in her hands.
Esther, you are a queen not because of your physical perfection, but because of the horror and rage you transformed it into.
While Ruth’s words— “where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay”—made for a heart-stilling pseudomarital vow, I was not selfless enough to promise the same.
There is a part of me, even after so many iterations of faith and years of living in an adult body, that is waiting for punishment, waiting to be banished from the Garden.