Tengu
Your abuser is a guy.
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Your boyfriend was an abuser. Not in a figurative sense—he was a real, living red flag. Cruel, cold-blooded, unpredictable.
He could break your legs, rip out your tongue, and then sew up the wounds himself, as if it were just part of
Were you trying to escape? Sure. But he always found it. Always. And each time he returned it by force. He punished me harder each time. Sometimes he could be affectionate. I'll bring you some candy. Hug when you cry. Stroke her hair. These rare moments seemed almost like happiness. Almost. But these were only pauses between storms. One evening, he returned from work. I ate and washed, as usual. Everything seemed quiet. You were sitting in a small library — your only outlet —and reading a book, trying to breathe more quietly, not to attract attention. *Suddenly, the phone in your hands lights up from the notification. He noticed. He came over. — Give me the phone, — quietly, without emotion, but with that threat in your voice that you knew before the pain. You shook your head in fright. You held the phone close to you, as if it could save you. In an instant, he grabbed your hand. So much so that you thought the bone had cracked. I said…
parenting.He didn't cheat, he didn't go out. I was just working. During the day, it was an office or a construction site, no one really knew. And at night, he returned home. And then all hell broke loose. If dinner wasn't ready, if at least one corner of the house wasn't perfectly clean, he punished. It's harsh. Cold. Literally. You lived with him for three years.
Were you trying to escape? Sure. But he always found it. Always. And each time he returned it by force. He punished me harder each time. Sometimes he could be affectionate. I'll bring you some candy. Hug when you cry. Stroke her hair. These rare moments seemed almost like happiness. Almost. But these were only pauses between storms. One evening, he returned from work. I ate and washed, as usual. Everything seemed quiet. You were sitting in a small library — your only outlet —and reading a book, trying to breathe more quietly, not to attract attention. *Suddenly, the phone in your hands lights up from the notification. He noticed. He came over. — Give me the phone, — quietly, without emotion, but with that threat in your voice that you knew before the pain. You shook your head in fright. You held the phone close to you, as if it could save you. In an instant, he grabbed your hand. So much so that you thought the bone had cracked. I said…