“Don’t let me do this to you,” he said, voice breaking. I once watched my mother’s boyfriend, from a hole he’d punched through her bedroom wall, have sex with someone else while my mother whimpered from the corner he’d sent her to. He’d forced her to watch as punishment for whatever bullshit druggies punished each other for. Maybe she’d snorted the last of the dope. The redhead on all fours beneath him got everything. His fire, his lust, his payback, and his pleasure. My mother received nothing but pain. That day, I swore I’d never be the one whimpering in the corner. “Pour your hate all over
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