ARIA
I hated him.
I hated him for always taking, for always deciding, for stripping me of every choice I had left. First when he ended us… ended me… with nothing more than a handful of cruel words, and now, again, scooping me out of that bed like I weighed nothing, like my protests meant nothing, like none of his words cut deep, even though he could barely look me in the eyes while talking that day.
It wasn't just control. It was worse. It was the way he always played hero, the way I let him… always arriving, always rescuing me, as if that was the only way we knew how to exist together outside of the ruined sheets. And God help me, I despised it. I despised how dependent I'd become, how I waited for him even when I told myself not to, how every time I fell, part of me prayed for his shadow to appear in the doorway.
