Mama moved closer, put her hands in his hair. He buried his face in her stomach, started to shake and cry. “I’m so sorry. I just love you so much … it makes me crazy. Crazier.” He looked up, crying harder now. “I didn’t mean it.” “I know, baby.” Mama knelt down, took him in her arms, rocked him back and forth.
This isn’t PTSD. It’s textbook domestic violence and they’ve been in this cycle for years. The tears, the apology are his way of staying in control.
