Philophobia...the fear of falling in love. I was afraid. I was afraid of many things, but that had to be the scariest. I didn't even know what love was, and I didn't want to. Even when I was younger, I had no love. I had no one to love me, or even try to. All I had or was given was abuse. I remember like it was yesterday.
The way his belt came into contact with my bare back. The way his hands came in contact with my body. The way his fist came in contact with my face. The way his shoes came in contact with my stomach. The way his lips came in contact with mine. I remember him beating me over and over and over again. I remember him telling me no one loved me, and no one ever will, but the sad thing is I believed him. I believed every word he ever said to me. He was only my step-father...but the closest thing I had to a father. My Mother was as sweet as can be. She did anything and everything she could for me. When he beat me she did nothing but let him, because she was afraid. I would beg him to stop, but that would just boost him up to do it even more. I remember him molesting me. He would strip me from my clothing and make me look him dead in his eyes as he touched me in places I never approved. I remember when he ripped all my clothing off and beat me. He rubbed on my end as he pelted me over and over. He said he did it to teach me a lesson. I remember saying "I'm sorry" over and over for whatever reason. I was only 16 at the time. I had never done anything to deserve what he did to me.
That's what made my the person I am today. A scared woman. A scared women living in a scary world. I was so afraid that one day, the thing I don't want to have or find is going to eventually find me. A man who loves me.
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And scene! 🙈
I feel like this is better than Bashful😩
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