Bruises.

There’s bruises and cuts on my body. Sometimes they are on my wrists, sometimes my throat, sometimes my face. I tell people I don’t know how I got them or I just feel or maybe I bumped into something. No one believes me. I am lying. They all know the truth. They all think they know how I get these bruises and cuts. They are sure I’m protecting someone. That I’m a pathetic woman who lets her boyfriend hurt her. The only problem is…I’m single and I live alone. They think I’m being abused and they are partially right. I am being abused, I just can’t see my abuser. When you’re like me you attract certain things. Certain things that the rest of the world writes off as merely stories told in the dark. Those certain things aren’t stories and they don’t leave some of us alone. And so, everyone is right. I am being abused…but my abuser isn’t human.

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