He came into my room 2 nights afterwards, and had broken down into tears begging for forgiveness, repeating how sorry he was and how much he loved me. This broke me, I cried too. I cried not for the fresh bruises all over my body or the ache in my neck where his hands had been around my throat, nor for the torrent of obscenities I had endured from his devilish tongue.
I cried because I had idolised him, I cried for my loss. My tears fell for the man that I had loved with all my heart, my protector, the bravest and most valiant man I had known. All of that was shattered. I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know who I was.
Just under 3 weeks later my 14th birthday arrived; I used makeup to cover up the remains of the shiner on my left eye for my special day. Looking at the photograph it is clear how lost I am, numbness escapes my soul through its windows. The picture taken is as real as the moment remains in my mind. That day, I looked at the camera and thought, “I would never have thought I would be feeling like this today.”
