I get it. I said that too. There was no way I’d ever let someone lay a hand on me without paying the consequences. And if they did, you can bet your bottom dollar they’d be out of my life as fast as they came into it. I didn’t understand how girls ended up in these abusive relationships or why they stayed in them. I sure as heck wouldn’t. That would never be me.

Until one day it was.

Here’s the thing. Abuse doesn’t start right away. And abusers are not who we think they are. My abuser came into my life disguised as my knight in shining armor. He swept me off my feet the first day I met him. I remember texting my best friend saying, "there’s got to be something wrong with him that I’m just not seeing." He was personable. He was funny. He was caring. He made me feel good about myself and like I could do anything in the world with him by my side. And as time went on, things only got better and I only fell harder. We were the couple that others wanted to be and strangers would smile at. He was perfect.

Until one day, he wasn’t.

I remember feeling scared and confused as I listened to him yell and watched him shatter his flat screen TV, all because a guy followed me on Twitter. Eventually he calmed down, apologized, and said it was out of character. I forgave him because he was just jealous and scared to lose me. I couldn’t be mad at him for that, right? I even agreed to let him monitor and control my social media accounts because I knew that would make him feel more at ease. Whatever I could do to help.

Sometimes I messed up. You know, I made eye contact with a guy passing by me in the hallway or responded to a text from an old friend. So he’d call me names that even my worst enemy wouldn’t call me. But I forgave him because he didn’t really mean them. I’m not any of those things, right? Or am I? Maybe I am. Maybe he’s right. Maybe no one likes me anyway. Maybe I should just go kill myself like he so often told me to.

One night he had typed out a message for me to send to a guy who I had a past with. I hesitated because it was really mean and I just wasn’t that type of person. My hesitation didn’t make him too happy and before I knew it, I was being slammed against a brick wall in a parking lot. But that wasn’t good enough, so he shattered my iPhone. The broken glass cut my hands, resulting in blood dripping down my arms. I couldn’t stop the tears from coming. But eventually he calmed down and apologized and said he’d get help for his anger problems. So I forgave him because what kind of person would I be if I didn’t stay by his side? He needed me. He told me if I left him, he would kill himself. And I couldn’t let that happen, right?

Sometimes I wore clothes that were too revealing, so he’d go through my closet and throw out the ones he didn’t approve of. I get it. I should never have bought them in the first place. Sometimes I liked a picture on Instagram, so he’d punch a few holes in my wall just to get his point across that I probably shouldn’t like other guy’s pictures. I get it. That was wrong of me, too. I shouldn’t even of followed that guy in the first place.

My close friends used the words "abusive relationship." I laughed. Absolutely not. I would never be in one of those. After all, it’s not like he’s ever hit me. I mean, yeah he has anger problems and is controlling and gets jealous sometimes, but that just shows how much he loves me. And yeah, he’s left bruises on me from grabbing me, choking me, and slamming me against walls, but he’s working on it. He’s getting help.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe my friends and family don’t understand our relationship. Maybe they don’t know what’s best for me. Maybe they don’t even care about me at all. I should probably not spend so much time with them and I definitely shouldn’t talk to them about our relationship anymore. After all, he’s all I need in my life.

One night we went out to the bar with his friends. I didn’t want to be there. It reeked of puke and consisted solely of half-dressed college kids making fools out of themselves. Plus, it’s not like I had my friends there or could talk to anyone without paying the consequences. I asked if we could leave, to which he responded by ordering me a drink and telling me to "just get drunk and you’ll be fine." I continued to beg him to leave until finally I got my way. I should’ve known that would upset him.

He yelled at me the whole way home until we finally pulled over in a gas station parking lot. I couldn’t take the horrible things he was saying so I tried to get out of the car. He immediately pressed the gas, nearly throwing me out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. Then it finally happened. He hit me. Hard. Right in the chest. The wind was knocked out of me. I couldn’t breathe. I started to hyperventilate. All I could think was "he finally did it. I can’t believe he finally did it.” And just like that, those hits became just another part of our relationship.

Perhaps I knew that was coming. Perhaps I knew all along that I was in an abusive relationship. But I didn’t want to admit it. Why? Because it was everything I swore I’d never be part of. I’m not weak like that - I’m strong. But there I was, bruised, alone, and trapped inside the walls that he had built for me. I no longer had control of my life, he did. The same guy who had swept me off my feet the second I met him. The same guy who could win anyone over. The same guy who people thought so highly of. The same guy who I thought loved me more than anything on earth. I could’ve never saw it coming, but it did.

So, girl who says "I’ll never be in an abusive relationship," I hope you’re right. I hope you never are. It is the absolute worst thing in the world. But I also hope you’re smart enough to see the warning signs. I hope you know what’s healthy and what’s not. And I hope you always know your self-worth. Don’t let any guy take that from you because once it’s gone, it’s the hardest thing on earth to get back.