Through all the craziness of my childhood o swore to myself I’d never be with someone that hurt me. In any way. My first boyfriend at the young age of 14 managed to ruin me a little more.
He was older. 17. He was into drinking, drugs, and sex. Which I did not want to give him.
I tried to leave. But every attempt came with a consequence.
He cheated on me. I told him it was over. He beat the crap out of me and broke my cheek bone. Again. I told my uncle when he asked what happened and he laughed as if I was joking.
I cheated on him in attempt to get him to want to leave. He drove me down a one way street the wrong way going 120mph and tried to push me out of the moving car.
My best friend passed away, and he slit my wrists and said he was going to let me bleed out and everyone would think I committed suicide to be with her.
I packed up my stuff and moved an hour an half away and he found me, sitting on my door step when I got home from school. (Age 15 now)….. he asked me why I left and I told him I was pregnant (which was partly true. I’d gotten pregnant, when I cheated on him… by his best friend, but shortly after he beat me up I lost the baby and that’s what made me decide I needed to move. He didn’t ask anything, didn’t say anything more…. simply started by saying “did you really think you’d get away from me?” And I said “we needed to”… he said “we?” And I said “yeah.” I showed him my ultrasound, that I’d kept from them telling me there’s no heartbeat…. he got up and walked away.
He’s back. There’s no denying it. He had went to jail for a while for some other things. But he’s back. And he’s in the same city as me. And he’s sending me messages wanting to see me.
Boom goes my PTSD. I can’t get him out of my head.