Please die.

I hate him. I wish he would just die already so that I didn't have to keep up with him. I look at his face and there is something between us that will never leave.

I remember the first time. I was 12, and I stayed out a little later than I was supposed to. I called him and told him I was on my way home and he drove down the street as I was walking home. He shouted at me from inside the car and then pulled over on the side of the road. He walked up to me and I backed up because I was scared. In front of my friends, he snatched my hat off of my head and told me I had better run.

I ran home and as soon as I walked in and shut the door he grabbed me by my throat and slammed me against the wall. He kept emphasising words by re slamming me and eventually threw me onto the couch. He punched me in the arm and told me that I was a fat bitch, and that I was stupid. I don't remember what happened after that- but I remember the next day he took me out and bought me like a hundred dollars worth of C.D.'s.

Little did I know that this would become a pattern.

I hate him.