Sometimes, I admit, I would have preferred him to just have punched me in the face.
I know what to do with broken bones- you take care of them, you reset them and they heal. Others can see your brokeness and your bruising.
But his cruel words shattered what little confidence I had built in myself. No one sees the scattered shards all over the bathroom floor. No one seea the runny, messy glue you use to stick something that resembles you back together.
And no one sees the moments when you replay those words to yourself and you shatter all over again.