We had a fight.

Not one of those small fights that ended with a laugh or a sigh like we usually had. This one was a lot scarier.

He hit me.

But I deserved it.
I deserved it.
I deserved it.

I should've done what he wanted.

I don't remember what we we're fighting about. All I can remember is our screams choking me, preventing me from breathing.

I wanted to cry. Tell him I was sorry for whatever I did or didn't do.

I didn't want him to feel angry anymore.

I wanted his forgiveness.

But at the end of the night he wanted mine.