The scab has just finally fallen off today but every time I catch a glimpse of my forehead in the mirror all I see is him. It didn’t bleed that day but I’m amazed at how it cut deep. Sometimes I think it was better it didn’t bleed. Would he have hit me more?
I cut my already falling hair shorter in a style that covered my forehead so that it wouldn’t catch attention. It hasn’t left such a significant scar. And I let out a sigh of relief. No questions would be asked now unlike when it was fresh.
. All this for the price of a kiss and a hug and hoping everything will be okay.
I think a part of me has died.
No one told me Love was supposed to be like this.