He was going to stop anyway. I think. This can’t go on forever, but there were several things holding me back from telling.

1. It’s so elementary school. You know, telling on someone, think.
2. My pride. My prides is seriously messed up and confused.
3. The fake truth. The idea that he was going to stop.
4. What happens. He wasn’t just hurting me for everyone to see. My bruises were hidden. Real, but hidden under clothes. Cold and lucky season for me.
5. The biggest was his threat. The same thing and last thing he said to me everyday. And everyday that I tried to plead with him that I wasn’t lying and everyday that he didn’t believe me. I was starting to believe him, his lies. His rape me lies, his threat lies, my lies about telling. Was he serious about…rape? Or was it just to scare me? He did live close to me, but he wouldn’t climb in through my window. I’m having too many fantasies about this nightmare that I can never wake up from. What now? Or more so, who? Who am I going to turn to?