סיפורה של מתחלפת

I sat through a courthouse hearing today, forced to look at his face again, the smug curve of his smile like a deliberate provocation. In an instant, my body remembered everything: every unwanted touch, every lie wrapped in gaslighting, every moment he tried to make me doubt my own reality. I refused to give him the satisfaction of watching me break. Inside, I was wrestling my demons, fighting the raw, instinctive urge to run or collapse. My heart ached as if it were being wrung out, my thoughts spiraled relentlessly, and my soul cried out to the universe for any force, any entity, that might offer support or strength.

Still, I held my ground. I revealed nothing. I could see the frustration flicker across him when he realized he wasn’t getting what he wanted. I don’t know when the next blow will come, or in what form, but I am braced for it. When it does arrive, I will take its force and turn it into another brick in my wall, the same wall that keeps my sanity intact, that keeps me standing, that shields our son from this demon masquerading as a man. He may be my hell on earth, but if that’s the case, then let him call me Constantine. I am terrified, yes, but I am here. I am facing it. And I am not giving up.