เผบโ™ก๐“œ๐“ผ. ๐“Ÿ๐“ฒ๐“ท๐“ด๐”‚โ™กเผป

โ™ก ๐‘…๐‘’๐’ถ๐“ ๐’ฏ๐’ถ๐“๐“€ โ™ก ๐น๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“ˆ๐“Ž โ™ก ๐’ฎ๐“‰๐‘œ๐“‡๐’พ๐‘’๐“ˆ โ™ก ๐’ซ๐‘œ๐‘’๐“‰๐“‡๐“Ž โ™ก
2021-03-22 14:42:00 (UTC)

History of K

K and I met, back in 2015.
I was working at the local store. He came in once, asked me to a coffee date, I declined. A few weeks later, he asked for a coffee date again, and I, again, declined. Two months went by and he came in again, asked for a coffee date....I had said I was flattered but no thank you....and the customer behind asked why I wouldn’t accept, it was just coffee on my break....so, I said ok.

For weeks, he would come and have coffee with me on my breaks.
Months went by, and I would then stop by his work and visit.
I was starting up chemotherapy.
K and I were just friends.

I was in an extremely abusive relationship for over 9 years, 007. 007 had refused to work all those 9 years together, bought me one gift in 9 years, Bipolar for Dummies book. Yeah....he would break me down Sunday through Friday and Saturday bring me flowers and say I’m sorry. Never said I love you. Would yell at me to move away from the tv naked while he was gaming.....his mother was abusive as well, yeah, we had moved in with his mother, I gave up my 3 bedroom place because his mom said she needed help......

I ended up taking on two jobs to pay the bills.
As I started chemotherapy, K said he would go with me, and I let him go with me as a supportive friend.
Things got so bad where I was living, that the town told us to leave there, it was a dangerous situation and we needed to leave the 007 place.
So, K, offered his moms place to us. His mom and dad had died, the place was empty, so we took the offer. Put my stuff in storage and we moved in.

K was working for cash, yeah, a long line of over 30 tax warrants, and other shit on his record, but after a year of our friendship, we had gotten so close that he would come home and just know something was bugging me and would hug me tight and tell me it was going to be ok.

After a year there, the place sold, and he helped me look for a place, where we have been almost 5 years here. He eventually, moved in with me here. Things were still strong as ever.

His pediphile brother (yes, pleaded guilty to child molestation and served time) moved into town, a functional alcoholic and pill popper, and K started hanging out with his brother, and took back to drinking after years sober.

I ended up picking his ass up passed out three times and he had started to get angry, drunk by 8am, and abusive.
I was at work, my kids all called, and you could hear him screaming in the background, so I knew to come home.
Ended up kicking him out the last final time.

A few weeks went by, was trying to work on things, but found out he was still drinking and I finally said enough. We were done.
That’s the day, 3 years ago, I went to have my truck worked on.

While I was gone, K had called every 5 minutes, leaving over 30 voicemails on my phone, came to my place, kicked the door in....

Superman was working on my truck and heard the voicemails, was pushy as all fuck and followed me home. Glad he did. He called the cops when we got there. They had already arrested K. He wrecked his truck a block from my place 10 minutes prior. He was 4x the legal limit.

He got 48 hours in jail.
He got bailed out by what was a mutual friend, and he came straight here.
Drunk.

I had no idea he was out.
I, had been drinking.
Knock on the door....
I answered, not knowing it was him, assuming he was in jail....
It was K.
I tried to come back in.
He grabbed my arm.
I lost my balance and was on the stairs.
He was standing over me, my back pushed against the door....
I couldn’t move.
He unzipped his pants.....
He grabbed my head.....
I tried to turn my head, his grip got tighter.....
He told me if I bite it he would kill me...
I still resisted.
He picked me up my by neck.....
After I was up, grabbed my arm, forced me on the futon bed and I tried fighting more..
Just pissed him off to no end.
I knew I was going to die.
My skirt went up and my thighs were bruised already from fighting
His alcoholic smelly body forced on top of me
I couldn’t breath.....


(I have to stop.....I can’t do this.)
It’s been 3 years.
30 stitches internally to stop internal bleeding.....
Hard to believe I allowed myself to fall in love again with TheDevil.

*crys*
I will try to finish another time...,
Will just post UPDATE when I can stomach this....




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