The first time she said what had happened to me, I didn’t believe it.

It made sense, but it didn’t click.

There were no bumps and bruises.

No marks.

No evidence.

Mental and Emotional.

That’s what she called it.

She said it wasn’t something that could be seen.

It was something that could only be felt.

It lived inside of me for a while; I just could get over the word.

I went to talk to her again.

She said the word again.

I told her it didn’t make sense.

No bumps or bruises.

No marks.

No evidence.

No proof.

I said I didn’t like to use that word.

There was no proof.

Mental and Emotional.

She said it again.

Tell people, she said.

Tell the world what he did.

Because then there’s evidence.

Then there’s proof.

I said the word to a friend.

I let the demon go free.

And then it finally made sense.

Mental and emotional. 

That’s what he had done to me.

Abuse.