Nightmares.

You keep showing up in my dreams, and I don't want you there. They aren't good dreams. You are tearing through my things, breaking my belongings, yelling. That face; that tight, intense, demanding face that made me fear everything. It keeps coming back, keeps haunting me.

Half of me wants to speak to you; tell you the things you did. The devilry, the way you mind fucked me, the games, and the blackmail. The way I can see how much darkness I was really in, now that I know what the light looks like, tastes like, feels like on my skin. I want to make sure you don't ruin another relationship- I want you to have learned. The other half of me knows it's not even worth my words. Besides my nightmares and the bruises underneath the skin, it honestly surprises me how easy it is to forget about you.

Nothing was wasted because I've learned so much about myself; who I can be, who I've become, and who I will be. I've learned that no one will ever disrespect me like that again.