It’s crazy to look over at the man you once loved, and know that he’s about to kill you. To think of how many times you’ve laid there at night, sleeping, while he watches over you and plots your demise. I wish this was the first, and pray to the Gods that it’s the last time I’m ever within an inch my life, from this crazy repeat cycle of endless battery and relentless savagery. They say that it must be what I want, that I choose these monsters, or that I bring it out in them. Maybe it’s my own demons haunting me, possessing every poor soul that ever gets comfortable enough to stay. Maybe.