He who shall not be named,
Is the beginning, the creator, the cause
Of the rewiring, and the broken pieces to my brain
For I was just only 18 years old
He was a little older, maybe 20
But what he put me through
Felt like a world of hell, eternally
For I was not experienced, I was a ******
It all changed after the night I gave in,
With barely an ounce of courage
For after that, he changed and became sexually enraged
I didn't want it like he did, My life was becoming a bid
I would lock myself in the bathroom like it was a hidden cage
Only because he forced himself upon me and I always cringed
He tried busting through the door!
So I got really scared and started shouting
I WON'T LET YOU DO THIS ANYMORE!!
But it didn't help, a house full of people
And all I could do was silently cry, and welp
Being dragged back to the bedroom that I now hated
Feeling so disrespected, so misguided, so jaded
I would tell him no, please don't do this
He'd look at me and tear my clothes off,
With an eager look in his eyes, as he's licking his lips
I'd push him away, I'd push him off of me!
But he was stronger and he held me down!
He covered my face with a pillow, hollowing out the sound
A house full of people, and they thought I was just going to town
After a while I gave up and let him just have it, have me
And every relationship after that, was the same
Yet, somehow, so much more differently
The bruises I had developed on the inside of my legs
Were always blue and purple, and sometimes even beat red!
Only the punishment didn't stop there, that's where it began
He treated me like I was part of a *******
Like I was just some pig he wanted to hurt and hang
After 6 months, I finally told him I needed space
I don't know how I managed to gather the strength
To look this monster in his eyes, straight to his face
I told him, I said,
"You need to leave and never come back to this place!"
The next day I told everyone who was there at the house
But no one believed me, so I continued to live in trauma
All by myself, and all alone, and as silent as a mouse.
For he was the first person to introduce me into a world like that
Which is something I'm trying my hardest to let go of and forget!


Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/24/2025

It's two or three in the morning and I'm sound asleep
Next thing I know, I'm being woken up,
No longer peaceful, or dreaming of cows and sheep
Woken up with his arm around my neck, squeezing my throat
It's two or three in the morning and I just want to sleep
I never did anything to this person, he was just a mean creep
Meanwhile, I'm being choked for refusing to get up
To make him a sandwich. Of all sandwiches, a PB&J
My first reaction to this encounter was to scream or shout
But I couldn't, I couldn't move, and I could barely breathe
That's when I knew this wasn't a man who loved me
This was a boy who had problems being told no, accordingly
I took my free arm, and I used all the strength I had left
And I slapped him in his face, hard as I could just to break free
Then it escalated and I was thrown out of the room, violently
His whole family was there, as it was a farmhouse
From the recent incident, I had new found holes in my night blouse
But when it all came to the light, I was somehow at fault
I'm the one who got choked, and treated like dirt
But everyone took his side, and that simply.. Hurt
His whole family came at me, and attacked me verbally
When I told my side of the story, they just looked at me like I was crazy
There was no way he could "hurt someone, especially a woman physically"
I knew then and there, that I was on my own
I stayed. I don't know why. But I stayed.
Things kept happening, but the final straw
was when we went out of town
We went to PA to pick up his cousin,
what a mistake that was for me,
As I was too blind to come to terms with what was already known
He was cheating on me with this girl.
Treating her like gold, like she was the only woman in the world
I couldn't believe my eyes, or my ears when it all came to light
I stood there like a fool, trying to preach my case, trying to fight
For a boy who pretended to be a caring man
Only to find out, he was playing family with his own cousins hand
After a year and a half, I decided to leave
Because it wasn't worth suffocating, when I needed to breathe
To this day, I still find it so hard to believe
That he ultimately chose his own cousin over me.
I was just the victim in his story, obviously.
But he was nothing but a simple minded person to his family
It was a scary time for me as I was so young
But like they always say, fools fall in love
While being, young and dumb
I'm just grateful I could get away from this evil one.


Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/24/2025

Four centuries pass, yet echoes remain,
A woman’s cry met with silence again.
Laws were written, inked with good grace,
Yet bruises still bloom in the same hidden place.

The chains are less visible, but still they confine,
A whisper, a threat—unwritten lines.
Justice pretends to be blind and fair,
But turns away when she’s gasping for air.

She flees, she pleads, but where can she go?
The system still asks what she should have known.
“Why did you stay?” they say with a sigh,
As if love was her crime, as if she chose to die.

Four hundred years, yet history repeats—
A woman still fights to stand on her feet.

the words fell softly upon her skin
whether good or bad
that’s a mercy
only a touch could bring

they floated gently,
a caress.

she is numb to the pain

how sick the mirrors are    of visiting our dumb faces
how weary the door is    of being bolted for our precious privacy
how dreary are our voices  to the walls
          as they are trounced  by our mad surly language ?
are the beds exhausted absorbing our stains ?
are the chairs knackered enduring our strain ?

how burdened are the tables by our taxes ?
how taxed are the windows projecting in ?
is the plumbing fatigued
          or the electric stressed ?
how geared up and fearful are the stairs
           as we begin our ascent ?
how bent out of shape is the ovens mood
           to bloat with heat and then cook our food ?

the engines of our house are in order
though  they must consider their efforts wasted
                     maintaining our bewildering lifestyle

It starts like a whisper
threadbare promises,
soft hands hiding clenched fists
beneath the skin, bruises bloom quietly,
seeds of silence sowed in the dark corners of a home.

A smile fractured at the edge,
where love's architecture crumbles,
and the voice that was once free
is twisted into the shape of a question:
Am I not enough?

A door slams, not in anger
but in fear.
The echo swells in the bones,
stays in the walls,
turns a house into a prison
where every footstep is weighed with caution,
a rhythm of dread,
beating louder than the heart.

The world outside spins on,
but inside; there is no time,
no refuge, no escape.
Even sleep is just another war fought alone,
dreams choked by the shadow creeping
over pillowcases and quiet sighs.

And yet,
the grasp tightens with a smile.
It is tender, this violence,
a slow suffocation dressed as affection,
coated in apologies that evaporate
before they touch the air.
It doesn't arrive with storms,
but with lullabies that cut deeper
than screams ever could.

What is love in a house that forgets
the meaning of sanctuary?
Where the windows close
to keep the world out
and the mirrors crack
under the weight of too many lies told in silence?

It hides in plain sight,
in the slow erosion of spirit,
in the small sacrifices of self
until nothing remains but an echo,
a ghost tethered to the earth by fear,
too afraid to walk into the light
and too tired to fight the shadows
that cling like a second skin.

And the world wonders:
Why didn't they leave?
But it's not the leaving
it's the unraveling.
Each thread of identity,
each step towards the door,
pulls against a gravity that speaks
in the quiet voice of terror:
You'll never make it out.
You're already gone.

Still, in the deepest night,
there's a flicker, a spark,
a refusal to be fully extinguished.
The insidious grasp weakens,
as the heartbeat that remains
remembers its strength,
knows that hands meant to hold
do not leave scars.

And someday,
a door will open.
The house will breathe again,
and the quiet will become
a sanctuary once more.

When you fall in love with a mean man you’ll find yourself truly believing that you deserve the misery. The fighting, the hurt and the crying feels all too consistent. Uneasy becomes your default setting as you find yourself walking on eggshells to avoid the anger. You’ll forget how you once loved the sensation of skin-to-skin contact the more you catch yourself flinching at his touch. When he points out that you’ve gotten distant you wont even notice how guilt melts into consent as he takes what he tells you he deserves. It’s alright, he loves you. 
If you’re anything like me you’ll believe that you’re not enough. You’ll believe that it’s your fault when he starts a fight. If only you could do better, then he’d have no reason to be upset. You wont believe it when your mom tells you it isn’t healthy to come home crying every time you see him. You wont believe your friends when they tell you that you deserve better than a possessive man who won’t let you out of his sight. Worst of all, you certainly wont believe yourself when you’re brain is screaming that you cant take it anymore; because your heart is screaming even louder, “He loves me!”