A piece of
fiction written by Dawn. Interesting, and could be telling IMO.
"...In the background lurked abuse and trauma from my last relationship. My ex-boyfriend, the father of my son, had been abusive to me throughout our three-year relationship. The abuse became worse after I left—or perhaps because he didn’t couch the abuse in what passed for sweet interludes anymore, so I was left to see only the unrelenting darkness.
My ex likes text messages: his missives invade my phone when I’m not watching. When I check, seeing them is like being hit in the chest. I’ve asked him not to text me unless there’s an emergency related to our son, but he does anyway, over and over—about innocuous things, but always with the intent of proving something to me. I still have control over you.
But this was the pandemic and, in my little house, there were two kids, a kitten and a large one-year-old dog. A young house full of creatures who were messy and wild and happy and joyful. I had inherited a second five-year-old from my younger sister. She was in an abusive relationship that had pushed her from being a young mom who was struggling to a young mom who was struggling and homeless. She called to check on her daughter when she could. In between, she changed her phone number regularly. It is a symptom of abuse. I should know, I have five email addresses.
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