Standing there completely paralyzed. Tears are running down my cheeks, my dress is ripped, my makeup is smeared. I don’t know what I did. I thought this was going to be a good night. In my head it all played out so well. But he had to prove me wrong, he had to show me who’s boss; again.

I spent three years with this boy; I thought maybe he was the one. We did everything together and went everywhere. When we got out of our senior year however, things started to change. He started to hang out with these other people, and started spending less and less time with me. At first this was okay, I thought maybe when we were together he would cherish me more and love me more because he missed me. I couldn’t have been more wrong around that.

He started coming home later and later, and when he did come home, he was drunker than the night before. That’s when things really started to change with us. When he was drunk, I knew I had to be careful. Even the smallest of things would make him upset, and he would swing. Sometimes he would miss, but most of the times I would take a punch to the face. He would always apologize the next morning when he woke up, always saying he didn’t know what he was doing. He was to drunk to remember half the time when he did hit me.

It was getting to the point where people were getting suspicious; I would always have a black and blue eye. There was never enough time between the hits for my eyes to go back to normal. But soon enough the hits started to go lower. He would hit me in places where my shirt and pants would cover them.
It was the summer by this time and I’m stuck in a long sleeved shirt and pants. Now people are starting to get suspicious again. I don’t know what to tell them. How do you say that your boyfriend abuses you? I didn’t want to believe it either. I wanted to wake up one day and it would all just be gone; like it was just one long horrible nightmare.
It’s Sunday today, I’m making his favorite dinner. But he’s out with his friends, so I’m scared he’s going to come home late tonight. I’ll try everything to stay out of his way. If only that would be enough, he might not even like the dinner I made for him. Maybe he’ll get the hint that I’m trying to tell him something pretty huge.
He walks in the door; I can smell the booze on him already. I’m sweating; I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. How does he expect me to tell him I’m pregnant when I know he’s just going to hit me? He can tell I’m hiding something from him, he pulls his arm back. I just close my eyes and start to cry already. For some reason this prevents him from hitting me right away.
I get the words choked out finally. And that’s when it happens; all at once he starts to yell. Calling me a wh*** and a sl**, telling me to keep my legs close. Then he hits me, not just once but over and over again. I try my best to protect my stomach from his fist, it doesn’t work. Repeatedly he hits me in the stomach; I’m screaming from the pain so much that I can’t even hear what he’s saying.
When he’s finally done with hitting me and bruising my body, he gets up and leaves. Never once did he say a single word to me after he beat me. But I could just tell that if this baby survived, I wouldn’t be the only one he would be hitting. There I am just left alone standing completely paralyzed.