As I slide into my little red dress, I glance at the mirror on the side wall and notice it's slightly crooked. I quickly adjust my view, grasping my hair in one hand, and "pony tailing it" with the other.

"How could he raise a hand to this fine body?" I think loudly, as I rub my firm round hips.  Smoothing away every wrinkle visible that might distract from my hour glass figure.

As I'm dusting my face with the finest of powders, I make sure my subtle lips are moistened with ruby red dew.

Blowing that final kiss in the wind, I grab a little "Oscar" to splash on my visible *****.  

"He loves me right?" Closing the door behind me, with keys in hand, I lock her in - the abused woman.  

No one will ever know (or care to meet her).  She just is.