Page 11 of You Saw the Best In Me

I survived his abuse, drug addiction, and the endless cycle of him cheating, apologizing, and forgiving him.

One time, our fight got so bad he threw me through a window at an abandoned building we used to crash at with our friends, and luckily, someone called an ambulance.

I had cuts and scrapes all over my body and needed stitches in too many places to remember.

My mom was so angry as she had already forbidden me from seeing Asher, which only solidified after that incident.

I wasn’t allowed to see or speak to him for months, but you think you know everything when you're young.

All his apologies made me believe he truly loved me, and it wouldn’t happen again. Asher was twenty-two and introduced me to drugs, heavy drinking, and relationship trauma, all before I had turned eighteen.

Then, the summer before I was supposed to start college, I made the mistake of accusing him of cheating on me again, and this time, I paid for it with three days of unconsciousness in the hospital.

I don’t remember any of it. I was drunk and smoked a lot of pot, but witnesses said he slammed me down so hard on the concrete they heard bones break.

I had a slight brain bleed, a broken arm, and a few fractured ribs.

My mom had enough and sent me to an inpatient treatment center, mainly for my protection. She wanted me to have counseling to help me understand that this relationship wasn’t healthy, especially with our age gap.

When I was released, I begged her to help me hide from Asher. I realized that the way he treated me wasn’t love, and I needed to get away from him.

Ever since then, I’ve had to look over my shoulder, change my name, and live in fear that this time, he’d leave permanent physical damage.

The emotional pain took years to heal, and I’ve never felt safe enough to let another man close to my heart.

I’ve had hookups, one-night stands, and even the occasional situationship, but never more. Surface-level, sexual release. That’s all I can bear to give because I’m terrified of being hurt again.

My story scares people off, but the last time I told it, it saved my life.

My best-friend Juliette and her boyfriend, Adam, came to my rescue when Asher found me, and I’m so fucking lucky to have met people who didn’t run away.

Instead, they brought me somewhere safe, cared for me, and helped me recover.

For some reason, all my shit life choices have come back to haunt me tonight, and it’s a lethal combination when paired with tequila.

I’m a mess of emotions, unable to stop the waterworks once the flood gates open. My cat jumps on my bed, looking for attention, and curls up into a ball right on my lap, which makes me cry even harder.

I don’t know how cats can sense when something is wrong, but April brings me comfort when I need it most, like my own little emotional support animal.

She wasn’t my cat, but when I lived with Juliette, she took a liking to me, and rather than separate us, my old roommate let me keep her, which meant the world to me.

It’s slightly pathetic that I’m in bed with April, drinking and crying, when a knock at my door causes me to jump out of my skin.

I’m paralyzed with fear, almost positive that it’s Asher and he’s found me again.

I get out of bed, moving slowly and trying not to make any noise.

It’s late – past midnight, and when I look out my peephole, it’s not Asher.

It’s Maverick.

I wipe my eyes, breathe to compose myself, and open the door.

“What do you want?” I ask, continuing our tradition of seeming annoyed when answering the door.

“Rain check still good?” he says, holding one small lime.

I smile and let out a small chuckle before removing the chain and letting him inside.