I’m not allowed to have an opinion.
He doesn’t like it when I speak my mind.
He think’s I’m bitching at him.
In truth I’m not.
I’m not used to not being able to say the things I want.
I have to think really hard about the things I’m about to say in order to not offend him
. He get’s offended really easily.
It really is all about him. He’s changed so much from when I first met him.
I can remember what his hands felt like as he strangled me,
I couldn’t breathe and my eye’s were going funny.
He was screaming at me that he was going to kill me.
All I could think of was that I didn’t want to die in the bathroom and that my leg was hurting
. I felt like I was going to die,
I didn’t want to.
The left side of my face stung from where he slapped me
, that slap made me lose half a molar.
He’s kicked, punched, and nearly killed me.
He’s tried to stab me with anything from a butter knife to a meat cleaver
me trying in vain to protect myself with a half painted canvas.
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.
I shit you not.
I cant leave him.
He’s psychotic.
I wont deny it.
He has problems.
Problems I didn’t know about when I first met him.
Problems I wouldn’t want any part of if I had known about them before hand.
I honestly thought he had crazy eyes. .
That was it.
I cant sleep properly.
Not in fear that he’s going to smother me in my sleep.
But in fear of everything.
I hate being alone now
.
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He’s made me paranoid.
Paranoid about everything.
I don’t want to live like this,
but I cant get away.
He’s like an addiction I will never fully kick.
I don’t want to be that girl.
I don’t.
I cant.
I can remember saying I will never be the girl that gets pushed around and beaten down.
But I am.
It’s sad.
It’s horrible.
He say’s he cares
He does wonderful things for me.
We have a little girl together.
He does a lot of good things, but he’s evil.
He’s the devil in disguise.
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It’s horrible when he touches me after he’s hurt me.
Its been this way for a while.
I don’t want him to touch me.
I want to say leave me alone.
He order’s me to lay next to him.
I often think about running out the front door. .
I didn’t have a baby then.
I lay next to him.
He run’s his hand up my leg, over my hips and grabs at my breast’s.
Make up sex…
with a twist.
It’s not passionate.
It doesn’t scream I’m sorry.
It’s pure fucking.
Hard and fast.
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Tears and blood.
My face in a pillow and my ass getting slapped.
It’s confusing.
He think’s he’s punishing me.
According to society though he’s abusing me.
I know it. I’m not silly.
I’ve tried to leave him.
It didn’t work. He thought I was going to clean out his bank account’s and had them all frozen.
We got the new ATM cards in the mail 4 day’s later.
He told me he would make it hard to leave him.
He meant it.
I’ve given up trying.
I’ve lost friends.
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I’ve been upset.
I’ve been angry to the point where I just scream.
I’ve been scared and humiliated.
But I’m still alive.
He’s an excellent father and an amazing lover.
When thing’s go to his advantage.
Nothing point’s in my favour.
I have no job. He does.
I have no savings. He does.
I have nothing. He has everything.
I’ve been told to shut up and take it.
To say yes to everything.
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Give in and give him my all.
I’ve tried. It’s just not me.
I’m not submissive enough for his liking.
He’s told me.
I’m not supposed to cry.
He likes it when I’m weak.
He loves it when I’m powerless.
I’m nothing. I feel so small.
He can slap me and call me a slut.
I take it.
I do it everyday.
Night comes again.
I lie in bed naked next to him.
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He pinches my skin.
Sometimes depending on his mood he runs a blade over my thighs.
He pulls my hair and whispers ‘Slut’
That’s my queue to suck his dick.
I didn’t get down there fast enough.
He slaps me hard.
Grabs my hair and yanks my head down.
He rams his dick down my throat.
I gag.
Tears run down my face.
I’m choking.
I hate it when he does this.
He fuck’s my head.
Slamming his dick further down my throat.
He’s moaning.
He’s close.
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He explodes in my mouth.
I look up at him.
He’s waiting.
I swallow his load and open my mouth.
He loves it when I prove it.
He know’s how much I hate swallowing.
I don’t know why I do it.
It makes him happy.
I like it when he’s happy.
It makes me happy.
I close my eyes as he walks away.
I wipe my mouth on the covers of the bed.
He comes back to thebed.
I’m laying there. Unmoving.
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His eyes travel the length of my body.
He has a crazy look in his eyes again.
I know whats coming.
I don’t like it.
He lays beside me.
Kisses me on the lips and rolls over.
I wait until his breathing has evened out.
I know I can sleep now.
He has rules.
I must follow.
I have to be what he wants.
When he wants.
How he wants.
I close my eyes.
Tomorrow might be different.
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I hope it wont start like today.
I drift off to sleep.
I know I will wake up to him touching me.
We’ll fuck again.
Like we do everyday.
There might be a different story to tell tomorrow night. .
