Notebook

I remember having this page in my notebook where I scribbled ‘NOT REAL’ over and over again. He kept insisting I’d done things I hadn’t, trying to make me believe I was a bad person. I scribbled so hard, my pen went through the page.

It was like all the shouting inside me found its way out onto that paper.

She’d snatch my phone every chance she got, always poking around in it, reading my messages, and checking who I’d called. It felt like I had no space to breathe, no privacy at all.

My phone wasn’t just a device anymore; it was a leash, and she held the other end tight. Freedom? Forget about it.

He would make me drink, sometimes beer, other times something stronger, depending on his mood. I learned that even if I didn’t drink, he still got what he wanted.

Sometimes, it felt easier to just go along with it and numb myself, to be out of it rather than feel what he was doing.

I would run and sit by the river. One day, I’ll be free, one way or another. Somewhere where nobody can hurt me.

Life is just too hard here. I don’t want to be here anymore.

I don’t want to be anywhere anymore.

I began receiving cards in the mail from my friends, filled with well wishes for a speedy recovery. I was so confused, I wondered why they thought I was sick. Turns out he had told all my friends that I was sick and couldn’t see them.

It was like he was isolating me from the people who cared about me, manipulating them into believing his lies.

He took control of my banking, wanting to know every penny I had and where it went. I couldn’t have my own money. He watched everything. He’d even take cash from my account, moving it to his if he thought I had too much.

I dreamed of using that money to break free, but there was no hiding it from him. Every time I thought I had enough, he’d take it away.