I almost felt continued sorrow

for her,  then I remembered she did those terrible things so deliberately for eighty-seven years.  Martha was a lazy whore, not about to really work, not about to truly,  honestly earn a decent living.  Not when she was as smart and as clever as she thought   she was.

Enslavement.  Exploitation.  Mind manipulation. Terror. Brainwashing. Hoodoo. Voodoo.  All methods used by Martha for eighty-seven years before she would dare genuinely apologize for anything.  Martha was right!  The whole world was wrong!  GOD was wrong, her dumb ass daddy was wrong.  All those sorry men were wrong for giving up on her.  Her damn dumb ass daughter was wrong , always trying to be so damn perfect, righteous and forgiving.

Yes, I do certainly understand why Martha was so jealous of me.  I am a damn sight better as a human being than she ever was.  I  have never spent and entire day cursing to the top of my lungs.  I have never burned with insane jealousy and stalked my loved ones with WITCHCRAFT!

Worse, now I know she was just putting on a show.  Martha was never more than a low slut.  She did not have the morals of a common earthworm. The thing is, that is what Martha preferred.  She wanted to be common, to be known as common. She pretended to us that it was a lie, that her feelings were hurt.  The low slut was proud. Well, let me put it this way, have you ever done anything you didn't really want to do? She didn't either. The low dimwitted slut was determined to defeat GOD! It can't be done and I will not be part of the Flying Monkeys still pretending to be afraid of a very dead whore.

So, why hate me? Why try to force me into such? You knew better!  Oh yes you did!  The fact that you hid your true intentions, your true character so well is proof of how deeply disturbed you  knew you were.

I still don't know how you slept so well at night.  Woman! You murdered your own daddy!  Forget all the other horrible things you did. YOU MURDERED YOUR OWN DADDY and coming to repentance never crossed your mind.

"Come ye out from among them."  No, no one saved us from your savage ass when you poured that pot of boiling hot coffee on my brother's chest.  When you pushed one brother's beautiful face into the stove. No one tried to save that puppy.  But your fruit, your fruit bitch!  It kept accumulating.  Then that "boy" came back home.

You even said it yourself; "The cat out the bag now."