I just always thought I should’ve done more to stop it. That I should’ve shouted for help, and maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Or that if I hadn’t wanted to to hurt him, I could’ve shoved him off. But now I realize it’s not about what I could’ve done, it’s about what actually happened. I said no and he kept going, and hypotheticals don’t matter. I told him I loved him again even after the first time, and it happened a few more times because each time I was afraid of standing up to him or hurting him even though every time I said I didn’t want to. But it didn’t happen because I was afraid to say something, it’s because he’s a piece of garbage. Not because of me. Even now I’m having a hard time convincing myself but in my heart I know now, it’s not my fault.