I sat lazily on my bed, puffing away the last drag of my cigarette and pondering over the same question again and again.
There were no answers in my head so I decided to retrace my steps that led to the question. Suddenly my train of thoughts was broken by a loud sound coming from the hall. I decided to not check.
"How did I end up this way"
I penned it down, hoping to get some answers right away.
"When did the abuse start"
I wrote the next line and started looking for the answers. When I met him, it was a fairytale romance, we were just meant to be.
Hopelessly in love, drunk with affection and mostly obsessed with each other.
Nobody could have guessed back then that two years later I'll be sitting on my bed with dried blood on my cheek and bruise on my arms.
It all begun with little moments, the moments so small that I didn't even register them. Now, I wish I had.