I stared at the text.

It was mean. Beyond mean. It was a total bitch move. But he was a complete asshole. He never hesitated to say something that would hurt my feelings. He always spoke before his head could process what came out of the landfill he called a mouth.

I pressed send before I could delete it for a sixth time.

Within seconds, he responded.

"Wait...What? I was kidding. You know I would never actually solicit sex for finishing a game. Jesus christ Amy."

No, probably not, but he would tell me he was falling in love with me to trick me into having sex with him. He would then tell me days later, while he knew I was at work, that he was just being emotional when I said I wasn't ready for that. He would do all this knowing the feelings I've had for him for years. Knowing that I was still coming to terms with the realization that I had been assaulted. That physical contact and trust was extremely hard for me. He would do this after I had to tell him about thay traumatic event twice because he forgot the first time. The second time I told him after he made a vile joke about me fucking and getting into a relationship with my attacker. I had almost thrown up from the mere mention of it.

I smothered the guilt that ate at my sternum.

No. If he was gonna fling shit at people, he should be able to fucking handle it when someone threw some back.

I needed someone to slap me. I was worth more than how he treated me. I deserved better.

I threw my phone onto a nearby chair and ignored the buzzes of his texts as I pressed my hands against my eyes.

I should be over him by now! I wasn't some stupid and naive lovestruck puppy anymore!

I had bigger and more pressing concerns than some jackass.

But he had his soft moments when he let his guard down. When he actually allowed himself to not be a total prick, he was gentle and kind and thoughtful. He was always there for me when I needed him. He was always willing to give a helping hand. And he was so funny. He never failed to make me laugh.

But those fragmented minutes didn't mean I had to put up with such abuse! I shouldn't have to silently absorb his insults and vitriol! I deserved better.

Right?

Yes. I may be dirty, used, and undesirable, but that doesn't mean I'm worthless.

I still had value, and I deserved to be treated as such. Just because he was too stupid and blind to see that doesn't mean I had to shove my thumbs up my ass and wait patiently until he opened his god damned eyes.

No. No! It doesn't matter if he ever noticed or not because I deserved more! With how he's treated me, there should be no doubt in my mind that I would reject him because I didn't deserve to be in an abusive relationship, and that's precisely how it would be if we were get together.

I scowled at the wall as I snatched up my medications for my depression, anxiety, and PTSD.  I tossed the pills into my mouth and, with my tongue curled around my prescriptions to keep them in place, grabbed the water bottle. I swallowed down the cocktail and slipped into bed.

Fuck him. He didn't deserve me.

I scrubbed at my eyes as my stomach turned and my heart clenched.

I didn't deserve this bullshit.