I ran.

As fast as I could.

To try to get away from him.

From the hurt.

But he always found me.

I screamed.

I ran the other way.

But I found myself in the end back in his house.

Sitting on the sofa, curled up in a ball.

As he watched me from the opposite end.

I hated him so much.

But I loved him so much too.

My feelings conflicted.

I turned my back on him.

And cried silent tears.

He asked me why I was doing this.

Why I hated him.

But I gave him no answer.

Somewhere along, I fell asleep.

I guess he carried me gently to his bed and took me out of my wet, dirty clothes.

Because when I woke up, I was there in his bed.

I didn't want him to touch me.

I hated him.

But I loved him also.