I have been in two abusive relationships
I realized my first love was abusive not the second but the third time he hit me.
His fist closed so gently it didnt seem like he was gonna hit me. His hands were always so soft, so warm and comforting
I knew them
I knew every crevice of his hands
Every line
Every hair
Like the back of my own
I have held them so many times before than
He used to do this thing where he'd tell me everything was fine after he did it
He would pick me up off the floor and take me to my couch
He was just so comfortable
He'd take my head in his hands and tell me I was okay
I didn't realize until third time
We were by the river and I was painting
I haven't painted since
I hadn't painted in a long time
He came up to me and held me around my waist
I giggled and went back to painting
I took his hands off
He put them back on
I stepped on his shoes and noticed he was getting annoyed
Black vans with little hearts I drew in the white part
He hasn't worn them since
I turned around and he swung
He knocked me unconscious
He picked me up and put me on a blanket
He cradled my head and gave me the rest of his water
I told him I wanted to break up
And he swung again
I haven't painted since
The second time I realized was when I went to break up with him
"If we break up, I'm gonna kill myself."
It took me months
Months
Weeks
Days
Hours
It was three months into our empty sayings, in our empty hugs, affection
And I stayed with him
All the fights
The screaming matches
The punches
The throwing
All of it
It was five months until I broke up with him
When I did
He swung
I haven't painted since
My second abusive relationship only lasted three weeks
He told me loved me, what he didn’t tell me was the empty words behind the loving face
What he didn’t tell me was the empty hugs, the empty kiss, the empty love was a facade for his family to think he was fine
He wasn’t fine
I wasn’t fine
For the second time that year
“If you break up with me, I’m going to kill myself”
The words ringing motionless in my mind like my favorite song on repeat on the radio until
I don’t like it anymore
“You’re worthless”
Is how he told me he loved me,
At least that’s what I told myself
“You dumb slut”
Was how he told me he cares
He slept with other women because we were “open” and I was fine but in reality I was the furthest from fine
In that short three weeks
I painted words over my body in my own blood and sunset made of all red
He told me it made him happy to have that much dominance of me
I haven’t painted since
About the Creator
Olivia langley
Hi I’m olivia and my hobbies include lookings at dogs, petting dogs, music, and writing. I mostly write about bad things and experiences so I apologize in advance
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