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It’s all gone.
Tucked away in a little box to suffer through later.
Utterly empty of everything that makes me a person, I stare back at him.
While his eyes beg me for it. Beg me to give him what in his mind must be permission to go to the next step.
Anything can and will be used as an excuse.
Breathing too hard. Twitching just a little bit.
Even blinking can set him off.
When it finally dawns on him that I have no plans of talking or fighting back, some of the fire in his eyes dies down and his mouth pulls into a scowl.
I can practically see the wheels starting to turn inside his head as he tries to think of a way to get me to give him what he wants.
He can’t just hit me. Oh no, that will not do. He needs it to somehow be my fault, otherwise he’d have to take the blame for being an asshole.
And if there’s one thing he’s incapable of doing, it’s taking the blame for anything.
Personal responsibility doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.
Nothing is ever his fault.
He never makes a mistake.
If things go wrong because of something he’s done or the choices he’s made, it’s either really someone else’s fault or the universe is out to get him.
In his mind, he’s practically a god. Infallible and perfect.
While in reality, he’s a fucking loser. A loser that will never get anywhere in life because he’s incapable of learning from his fuckups.
Can’t learn from them if you never make them…
Huffing and puffing, he makes a grunting noise and leans into me. “Did you fucking hear me?”
The question is bait and there’s no fucking way I’m walking into the trap.
Not again.
In the past, I let him suck me in. Let him send me over the edge with him. His fury sending me down a spiral of agonizing misery.
I used to stupidly believe I could reason with him. That I could calm him down with an apology or a little logic.
I didn’t understand it back then. I didn’t understand that he rages at me and hurts me because he wants to. Not because he’s genuinely upset over anything I’ve said or done.
Trying to defend myself is futile and a complete waste of breath.
He wants to use me as his verbal and physical punching bag because that’s all I am to him.
That’s all I’ll ever be to him.
A way to get himself off.
And I’m sick of it.
Sofucking sick of it.
