It’s August 13th, 2015, hiding in a closet of my sister's house. Clock hit 9 o'clock, it’s sad for the fact I'm hiding from my own husband Luke. I have been staying here for the past 2 days. I've gotten calls and calls on top of texts, and dms on Instagram. Luke is trying to find where I am. I can’t go back home not what he did to me.

     His arguments turned into fights, the fights turned into rage, which rage turned into bruises on me. I’m sick of his manipulative controlling ways. The way he makes me feel bad about something I can’t control. The anger he has when I don’t do what he says when he wants it. The way he hits me and apologizes and promises not to hit me again but back to his same ways days later. Then again, I think why am I with him?

       Over all his bad side before he switched and turned into a crazy control freak, there was this sweet man who used to treat me like the only girl in the world. Take me on romantic dates. He was so against all violence. He would do anything for me to buy me flowers every time I wasn’t feeling okay. He would write me cute notes every morning when I wake up. He would complement me. He was such a gentleman, a nice, loving, generous man. I could never leave him he was my world.He was a man any girl would dream of.