Introduction/TW's

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This is a story about an extremely abusive relationship. It contains graphic descriptions of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse as well as eating disorders, onscreen and offscreen rape, violence, breath play, etc.

If you are not in a safe place or mindset to read about these things, please reconsider before going forward. Many of these scenes go into graphic detail and come from the POV of someone being abused. 

Because we are in the POV of Cora, our FMC, she is an unreliable narrator for much of the book. This means that because she is being abused, she may not think the way other people do and her account of certain situations may be skewed based on how she thinks. 

If you have not been in an abusive relationship or dealt with an abusive person, it may be hard for you to relate to her at first. This is intentional. I wrote this story to let people see inside the minds of people who are abused, to understand why it's not always easy to "just leave." You never know someone's situation.

Abuse is very scary. It alters the way your brain works and rewires itself to fit the mold of the person the abuser so wants you to be. But, it's never enough and this makes victims feel like they can never do anything to make them happy. The reality is that they are enough— it's the abusers who aren't.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, you can call, chat, or text the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1(800)-799-7233 or text START to 88788 to talk to somebody. 

You are not alone. I'm a survivor and so are millions of others. Healing is possible. Happiness is possible. Safety is possible. Love is possible. 



For anyone who was ever made to feel like it was their fault— that you deserved the pain and suffering they caused you everyday.

For anyone who found themselves wondering if they were the crazy ones or if they could have just been better, listened better, acted better, existed better.

For anyone who needs to know that it does get easier. You will heal, you will overcome the trauma, and the nightmares do eventually stop.

For twelve year-old me, who didn't know any better and suffered for a decade, always wondering when he'd finally snap and end my misery, consistently reshaping myself into who he wanted me to be— only to tell me that it wasn't good enough.

It was never you, it was them.

You were always enough.

You made it out. This one's for you, babygirl.



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