And a tear falls down my face, a tear that was caused by him. By the words flowing from his mouth, making my eyes sparkle with cold salty water, making my eyes looks like they are made from glass and my mascara to run down my face. I thought I could change him, make him a kind and loving man. How could I have been so stupid to have thought that his black and tw isted soul could have been rectified? When he knocked me to the ground I would just get back up again. I would be the perfect girlfriend, do whatever he wanted me to, and yet he would still push me until I fell down, but all the time I was falling down I was also falling more deeply in love with him. Soon I was hooked, and no matter how much I hated him, how much I wanted to leave, I could not, I still loved him too much.

And the tear travels down my carefully powdered cheek, and goes past my convulsing mouth. I was silent, I always was. He would always do the talking, and with the words he would make me feel like an intimidated little girl, like a school child who is bullied in the playground and left crying in the corner wishing that she was anywhere but here. That is what he would do to me, leave me crying and feeling worthless, like I really did not want to exist anymore. I just wanted to switch off my life. But then he would tell me that he loved me and he would kiss me and I would fall a little deeper and he would make me look like a fool. I did not want to love him, did not want to put his happiness before my own, to put his life before my own, but I could not help it. He was like a drug, something that I needed, but harmed me greatly.

And the tear falls off my face, and speeds towards the floor. He used to speed towards me, usually with a fist and fire in his eyes. When that fist pounded on my body, it would hurt so badly, not just because he had struck me, but also because he was the one person in the world that I loved the most and he was abusing me and I felt'¦ disappointed. I wanted him so much to stop and just hold me with his hands instead of using them to hurt me so badly. I could not stop him. I tried so many times, I would try to run away but he would grab me by the arm and pull me down or hit me again causing me to fall. I would call out for him to stop and his cold, strong fingers would seize my neck and I would not be able to breath. He would tighten his grip and put his face right up close to mine, so close that see my own terrified reflection in his eyes. Then he would tell me that he hated me and that I was worthless and his grip would become loose and I would fall to the floor, gasping for breath.

 Then the tear hits the hard floor, and breaks into a thousand pieces. Just like I do.

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