He made me shave the scant baby hairs on my arm.
He forced me to throw out ALL my Prince paraphernalia because “you love him more than you love me.”
Once, he punched the wall, instead of my face. I hid the hole with a Three Amigos movie poster.
He showed up at my home or school at whatever time when I tried to break up with him.
Another time, I tried to call my mother, he disconnected the phone, locked me in the pantry and proceeded to boil water… (I am now slightly claustrophobic)
“Obviously” it was “my fault.” I “deserved” it. I “made” him do it.
And this is all I care to share.
I was 16.
I thought he loved me because he gave me flowers and candy on Valentine’s Day.