The Way I Used to Be (The Way I Used to Be, #1)

by Amber Smith

I feel like I need to go shoot heroin or something. If only I knew where to get some, I just might.

and he looks so angry, angry enough to hit me, maybe. I almost wish he would, because that would feel better than being eternally ignored by him,

But that missing something is something important, something crucial, something taken. Something gone now.

I feel suffocated. Don’t want to be held. Don’t want to be touched. Not by anyone ever again in my entire life.

Screaming because I still feel like I’m back there, always back there, in my heart I’m still that girl. I clench my fists tight and tell myself: No more tears, stupid fucking baby.

Caelin tells us, “It’s his girlfriend. It just—it doesn’t even make sense—I mean, why would he need to rape someone he was already sleeping with?” It made sense to me, of course. He needed to make her feel worthless, needed to control her, needed to hurt her, needed to leave her powerless.

The bed frame creaks like a rusty swing swaying back and forth. Moans like a haunted house. And something like glass shatters. Shatters inside of you, and the tiny slivers of this horrible thing splinter off and travel through your veins, beelining it straight to your heart. Next stop: brain. I tried to think of anything, anything except it hurts it hurts it hurts so bad.

Only one sound pierces through the veil of static: No one will ever believe you no one will ever believe you no one will ever believe you.

I made you hate me. It’s okay, though, everyone hates me. I would hate me too. I mean, I do. I do hate me. I’m a horrible, horrible person.”