You told me about the time he ***** you
how he got you drunk first so you couldn’t fight  back
how he ripped your clothes off and covered your mouth
but he couldn’t block the scream that tore from your lips when he… when he… when...
When someone else kicked down the door and beat him ******
you finally blacked out
and woke up crying because you still knew it happened.

You told me about what came after
he named it Belle, after his favorite Disney princess
how she was going to be smart like you, and aggressive like him.
she was going to be his little girl.
you couldn’t stomach her, it, that,
couldn’t name it because giving it a name made it real
so you didn’t, you ended it, that, her,
and called it nothing, except “a grand down the wrong hole”
It made me cringe to hear you say that.

You told me about the drugs
how you forgave each other and found a higher power
******.
He dealed, so you dealed, he used so you used
he got in a beef with a rival dealer so you got shot
you tried to get out so he found you two a better god,
****.
You told me it lasted four years
before your brother found out
locked you in a motel room
and watched you writhe and scream and die
how when it was over you felt love for the first time in forever
and it was bliss.
          
You told me about the breakup
how he waited for you after school
grabbed you and knocked you out
how you woke up chained to a bed
naked, gagged, alone with him
how he spent the week torturing you
shocking, beating, cutting, hitting… touching
how he split town after.

Then you told me you lied
he never existed.
You spent a year convincing me I was fixing a girl scarred by the most damning of men
only to tell me that the only broken thing about you was your word.