That is how manipulation works.
It convinces you that your pain is evidence of weakness rather than evidence of harm.
For years I believed that if I became more patient, more understanding, and more supportive, then the version of Brandon I fell in love with might finally return.
Instead, he grew worse.
The drinking increased.
The gambling debts multiplied.
The apologies became shorter.
The insults became crueler.
And every time I considered leaving, he somehow found a way to make me feel responsible for staying.
By midnight that evening, I stood alone in the guest bathroom staring at my reflection.
Mascara stained my cheeks.
A dark bruise was already forming around my wrist.
I touched the mark gently.
Then I whispered something I had never been brave enough to say aloud.
