I can still remember it like it was yesterday. We started talking and flirting via social media. Next came phone calls and late night texts. Than one Wednesday night you asked me to be yours and I said yes. I was over the moon with happiness.

We talked and talked and finally met up a week and a bit later. I picked you up from school and when I saw you, you weren't quite like your photos. You had a bigger nose, dark distant eyes, crooked teeth, and just a plain and simple nasty look about you. And you dressed like a lad. And walked like you were the greatest human being on the planet.

I looked past all that and saw what I thought at the time was a good personality. You knew what to say and when to say it. You made me smile and laugh and forget about the negative things in life.

You asked to stay over my mum said okay. We were left alone and you started taking my clothes off. I pushed you off me and told you no. You got angry and started calling me a prude and a tease and a slut. Than you did the unimaginable, you hit me! I layed there crying my eyes out thinking what did I do to deserve that? You said you loved me. How could someone who loves you do that?

I acted as if nothing happened after that. That everything was perfectly fine, even though on the inside I was crumbling to pieces and I was petrified.

You went home the next day and I wanted to break up. You grabbed me forcibly and screamed in my face that I wasn't allowed to break up with you. You left bruises on my wrists. More and more of your true colours were coming out and I became more and more scared for my life.

The following weekend you made me stay at your house. I got there and you weren't even there. But when you did get there the first thing you did was hit me! I couldn't believe it. You had been sweet the days leading up to it. I thought maybe things would be different. I guess not. You dragged me to your room and sat on top of me ripping my clothes off me. By this time I was bawling my eyes out screaming at you to stop. But you would just slap me and say 'shut the fu*k up mole'. You cover my mouth with one hand and wrapped your other hand around my throat and said this is gonna hurt a little sweet pea. I screamed in pain and Wriggled around trying to push you off me. But every time I moved you would just punch me. I eventually gave up.

Afterwards you threatened me and told me I wasn't allowed to leave the house that weekend and than you went to sleep. I stayed up most of the night crying and finally fell asleep at dawn. And by the time I had woken up a couple hours later you were gone and I never saw you again.

I went home and locked myself in my room I didn't eat for days, and went to school like a zombie, staying clear of everybody. Even being near my own brother petrified me.

Two weeks later I finally got the courage to tell someone. Tell someone what happened. I reported it and they said "there's no evidence you waited too long we can't charge him" I was outraged after everything I went through you would get away with it.

Every single night since the incident I've had nightmares. I scrub at my skin every day trying to get the image of your grimy hands off me. Not a day goes by where I don't get reminded of what happens. The ultrasound of a 12 week old child in my belly forever is next to my bed. The daily reminder that you had me jumped and made me miscarry.

After everything that you have put me through I only have two things to say to you.

1. Thank you. Thank you for showing me that not every guy who says I love you and acts sweet means it

2. I hate you and I hope karma gets you real soon

Submitted Anonymously @Open Letters That Matter