The year is 1950, when the Golden Age of Hollywood is at its peak and the hate of Communism is rampant in American society. Caught in the middle, are two unexpected lovers.....
She is a wickedly handsome seductress with a tragic past and a hunger fo...
Ethel followed in behind a woman who led her to a large room filled with iron bunk beds. The beds were lined side by side in rows, with barely enough room to even stretch. A single light bulb hung in the middle of the room, dimly illuminating the drawn faces of distressed women and tear stained faces of small children. The women's shelter was the only place Ethel could think to go. She was too prideful to go to Michael, and too ashamed to go to Georgia, who continually warned her of Howard's ways. Staying at the shelter was already pushing the limits of her prideful exterior.
"This is the last bed we've got. You're lucky." The portly woman gestured towards a gray and pink floral print mattress and pillow. "Bathroom is down the hall of you need it." She pointed down the narrow hallway.
Ethel nodded mutely, thankful to be out of the harsh weather. It was still cold inside the bleak shelter, but it was better than nothing at all. Still damp and soiled from walking in the less than ideal weather, she headed down the hall towards the tiny bathroom.
She turned the metal knobs, letting a low pressure stream of cold water run over her hands. She splashed the water on her face and neck, rubbing her hands against her skin to remove the filth. It was far from a decent grooming, but she at least felt slightly human again. She gripped the sides of the sink and slowly looked up to peruseher reflection in the smudged mirror. Shame, guilt, tiredness, and hopeless swam in her eyes. She couldn't look too long, the shame would suffocate her.
She left the bathroom and made her way through a maze of beds before finally finding her area. She curled into a ball on the hard mattress, isolating her body warmth. Relief and terror flooded her mind as tears slowly started to trickle down her cheeks. She gently touched the bruises on her face, wincing at the throbbing sensation.
She hated herself. She hated that she didn't have the courage to stand up for herself and leave Howard for good, on her own. She was frightened. It was obvious he didn't love her, but a part of her still wanted to believe that he really did.
She yearned for his validation of her self worth, or anyone's for that matter. It was the thorn in her side; she always gave herself to useless men, seeking their approval, because she was truly insecure. In the end, they all treated her the same, and she always ended up hurt.
No longer did she believe in true love, or fulfillment, because it didn't exist. If it did, God had forgotten about her. She had feelings, as every human should, and that would never change. However, her heart was numbed from acting on those feelings or having a deep emotional attachment with another...love.
Howard broke her heart; he broke her innocence; and he broke her soul. All the random lovers she had been with were her coping mechanism. She had slept with them in attempts to further her career, but she was also sleeping with them because giving them her body made her feel worthy in a sense. It was the only thing that she'd probably ever be worthy of. Perhaps this was why she was baffled when Michael made love to her with a certain care in his touch.
She shifted her body on the bed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was a familiar ache in her chest, and it wouldn't go away. Howard would be back for her, she knew it; this wasn't the first time he had done this. He always found her, and she always went back because she didn't want to die. She put on this bold facade, breathing sensuality and confidence, but if the world could see her inner demons, they would see a weak, self-hating victim.
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