Abuse is tragically addictive. Lies pile up upon your mind, “Worthless.” “I’m the only one who cares, darling.” “On your knees. Show me you care.” They’ll pile up until you can’t handle knowing they are false, and eventually you begin to accept them as if they were always real. Always real to you. You really can’t tell the difference between hatred and love, between pleasure and pain, not when it’s something that’s been drilled through your skull so many times, enough times to drain away everything else and only leave a shell of a person. Cold hands will be the keepers of your soul, scratching away the truth with a mocking crimson stained smile. Look up and smile, as if he’s the saviour who helped you. You never had a soul in the first place. He’ll become the one person you think cares. He’ll hold you in place with strings that puppeteer your every move. He’ll say he’s only helping you. He’ll choke you to unconsciousness, drown you, beat you, stab you, hit you, hateou, love you. He’ll say that it’s to show you what life is really like. They’ll tell you that some pain isn’t good, your only arguement being ‘It’s better than feeling nothing’. Pathetic man. Coward. Pain addict. Freak. Run, masochist, run before it’s too late for you and the icy manages to completely freeze you in his hold. Though it doesn’t matter if you manage to escape him for now. He’ll make your life hell either way. And you’re tragically addicted to it.