I'll never forget the lesson you taught me.
How could I? It's carved into me by the scars you left behind. I am branded as a victim, but I refuse to act the part. In the past you controlled me, but the past is just that. I trusted you to protect me, but in reality I needed protection from you. The first time you held that knife to my throat, laughing as if it were funny. When most teenage girls were hiding hickeys, I was covering knife marks and bruises.
In the same sentence you broke me down and told me you loved me. The word Love lost its true meaning, instead twisted into a hideous sound which always accompanied my pain. With every breat