I still love the man who raped me. I still love the man who beat me. I still love the man who sued me for 'emotional trauma' for breaking up with him. I still love the man who told me he would kill himself if I ever left. I really hate myself for being able to love someone who held me down, beat me, and didn't stop until I had covered him in blood because I was too small for what he was doing to me. I was only fifteen. He was eighteen. I barely weighed 90 pounds and he could pick me up with one arm. He took me to a park at midnight once, and he locked the door and told me we weren't going anywhere until I "made him happy". I still have scars from him. And I still have scars on my wrist from when I thought that I could never escape him unless I killed myself. I would have married him. I would have run away with him. But I didn't. I think of him every single day. I think he's married now. And I'm alone. But I'm safe. And I'm here, at the school I always wanted to go to. And I'm getting an education and I'm gonna spend my whole damn life making sure what happened to me won't happen to other little girls in love. Kyle, fuck you. I'm stronger, and I'm bigger than you'll ever be and I'm not your little pet anymore. I'm a big, strong woman and there's nothing you can do to hurt me.