I have no idea how I got so involved in his life so quickly. It was a whirlwind of lust and fear. In the beginning I felt like we really got each other, but soon he started demanding so much from me that I stopped feeling like myself. I stopped pursuing art, writing, and music, started smoking a pack a day, and my life revolved around keeping the fragile peace. We never talked about our issues. I had an odd feeling from the start that he would be abusive, but I stayed because I was attracted to him and honestly I felt sorry for him. I thought I could handle it and I thought pushing through it was love.
He gave me “love taps” every day, slapping the back and top of my head while calling me “bad”. He was slapping my legs and rear so hard it would sting. Even when I didn’t want him to and told him not to, he’d do it again. Sometimes he’d poke me really hard in the stomach and when I told him it hurt he would laugh.
He was so sexually demanding, aggressive, and intimidating. I think the only thing keeping me away from him is remembering the time he held my legs so far up that I was whimpering and wriggling and he growled “Stop it before you make me mad. Be quiet.” I’ve felt numb, alone, and scared since, even after leaving him.
