I don’t know if this happens in all relationships, but I just got so sick of his all too familiar stories. I had heard these stories so many times that I could have recited them myself.

He wanted revenge and I knew he would not stop until he got it. I had to hope he would run out of fuel.

Not long after my mom died, my dad pretty much kicked me out of the house. He never said, “Get out of my house,” but instead, I came home one night to find all my clothes scattered all over our front lawn.

I had to get used to it because my life was no longer safe and I was no longer protected like I once was.

Living with myself wasn’t all that easy. I was not the young girl I once was. Once upon a time when I looked in the mirror, I saw this happy glow. Now nothing glowed except the leftover face cream from the night before.

I was physically attacked by a woman who didn’t even know me. Yes, my boyfriend was her former husband, but she tried to ruin me.

I could only defend myself so much. It was my word against his. There was no evidence, nor was there any proof. My word meant very little.

He would say things like, “But you are my wife!” when I didn’t do something that he wanted me to do. His expectations were not realistic.

I didn’t feel like I was stealing someone’s husband; I felt like they were already apart.