I would look at him just before he would hit me.

And I would see a glimpse of what he was before.

The goofy smiles and heartwarming words and I would think maybe after this hit, he'll stop.

But he never did.

And I was the pathetic little bitch that stayed.

Sometimes when I was hiding from him, I would think back to my life before I met him. Cold.

But never as cold as when his hands wrapped around my throat.

I'm sorry I think I've said too much.