He would press my face against the mirror with his boot. I would have to repeat everything he said after him. I am ugly. I am worthless. My friends hate me. My family disowned me. I am lucky. He would press down harder if I was not loud enough or stumbled because I was crying. Other times, he would slam my face into the bathroom mirror and asked me what I could see. Big nose, fat cheeks, big chin, wrong shaped eyes. Fat. Mess. F'd up.
I wouldn't eat. I decided that in my silly mind would help. One to stop him saying I was ugly and to cause pain to myself for listening, for believing, for feeling I deserved better than my past, for the guilt, for leaving my siblings. Just to cleanse every bad feeling. I was still fat. I still had an ugly body and face. But I believed he loved me. I felt he was protecting me. I made excuses that he had a traumatic past. That I was never good enough.
I was weak, I was tired. I didn't leave the house. I hardly went to classes. I was scared someone would hurt me, someone would realise how disgusting I was and because I believed no one else wanted me. I cleaned and cleaned. Respite and to stop the shouting.I would s.h. I scrubbed till my hands bled, just when I was young.
One day, I must have collapsed because I was so tired. I think I just gave in. When my eyes opened, he was there, on top of me. Just past repeating over. This was the first time that he didn't ask. Other times he did but he would still have what he wanted. I was stupid to not say no more or even to just walk away. That's what's the hardest to explain - why didn't I walk away?
His life was dominated by drugs but because he held a job, he didn't class himself as addicted. I'm ashamed to admit but that is how we met. How could I ever believe that we could be happy? I stopped taking them, I never did high class things either. I craved for a release. I didn't care. I felt I'd lost everything. That my siblings hated me and they were still being abused. But I had no idea where they were. It was the need to find them that stopped me.
He would try to force me to inject things or take harder drugs. Sometimes, I won and ran. Though, his dad would find me and bring me back. The same dad that abused him. That would mean I would be hurt.
There's a part, I cannot share. Not yet.
One night, he made me come out with his friends. After drinking and getting high, one offered to drive and I refused to get in the car. My boyfriend told me fine but text me what was going to happen. He said he loved me. I never said it back. They never came home. Not one.
I could have been in that car but I wasn't. Its so hard to explain because despite everything I loved him.