More or less. [ and that's not even getting into all the other fucked-up stuff that happened that she doesn't want to drop into casual conversation, mostly because she's convinced her own view of it is skewed and twisted enough because of what she's had to compartmentalize. ]

Jesus Christ, that motherfucker. [ so the only thing she offers now is sympathetic rage, anger bubbling up until she grits out the words through her teeth. ] I hope you cut off his own balls and fed 'em to him.

[ she has to rein herself in, drawing in a breath and then pushing it out slowly. ] What J and I had... it wasn't healthy. It wasn't good for me. I know that now. And they might have some paper somewhere that says you're mine or whatever, but I would never, ever let anything like that happen to you. Okay? You're your own woman, Char. Think of it more like... usin' my name to get yourself what you want. Not a ball and chain draggin' ya down.