Then
Something in me changed when Michael cut and scarred my body. I hated him but I loved him. I never wanted to be without him but I didn’t want to stay. I wanted to please him but I wanted him to fuck off.
He knew he had me right where he wanted me. He made it so I could never leave him, even if he left me. He wanted me bound to him only for his benefit. I had nothing on him. He could literally push me to the curb, and I would have nothing to fight with, nothing to show for.
The abuse continued, but I begged to stay with him every night. I could tell he was getting tired of me. I could see him rolling his eyes, somehow bored while I sat on my knees with his cock in my mouth. I knew he was going to stop caring about me soon, and I didn’t know how to keep him. I was desperate for him to just fucking love me. I was desperate for his undivided attention.
I don’t know why I thought trying to kill myself would suddenly make him realize that he was in love with me. But after one of our sessions, after he cleaned me in the bath and while I was supposed to get dressed, I decided to go into his kitchen drawer and find the sharpest knife I could find. I waited until he finished in the bathroom and came walking into the kitchen.
He scolded me right away as I held the knife to my wrist. “Jackie!”
“I don’t want to live if you don’t love me,” I cried, pressing the knife to my skin.
“Don’t be so fucking dramatic. Put the knife down. Now!” He was angry and inching closer to me.
Do it, Jackie! Make him love you or die.
I quickly sliced the knife down my wrist and blood immediately started pouring out. He lunged toward me and grabbed a kitchen towel, pressing it against my wound as I fell to my knees and slumped back against the cabinet.
He doesn’t want me to die .
“You fucking idiot, Jackie!”
I started getting lightheaded as I heard him yelling something. My eyes began fluttering shut as his voice became clearer: “She’s losing a lot of blood. But I think she’s dangerous—I’m going to need the police here as well.”