Every time I turned away, he’d hold my face so I’d have to look at him. “Where are you going looking like that?”
“Who you trying to look pretty for?”
“You look like a cheap whore.”
I’d lay in my room, crying, staring in the mirror at my face, with my swollen dark eyes, my pouty full lips, my long black hair, my body. xxx video When I’d dress up, wear make-up, or go out he’d glare. I tried to fight it, trying to get passed the haze of my vision. But he was. I’d stay up all night if I had to. I stormed off barely remembering my backpack on the way to school. The day was fuzzy. He would come in every night.
