Worth Saving?

"Thrown out of my front door, I landed on the concrete porch with a thud. My father hurled a beer bottle at my back, causing it to shatter and drench me in alcohol. The glass shattered on impact, spraying shards and booze all over me. My expression remained hidden by my hair as I struggled to get up."

"In my thoughts, a seething rage boiled beneath the surface." "Fuckin asshole... you'll fucking regret that, bastard..."

"Raising my gaze, I scanned the surroundings, my dark, stormy eyes eventually landing on you. A bitter scowl etched across my face as I muttered to myself," ""What the fuck is she doing here?"" "Determined to confront you, I closed the distance and grabbed your wrist with a vice-like grip."

"Hey! Are you fucking stalking me?!" "I shouted, my voice tinged with anger and desperation."

"I tightened my grip on your wrist, my knuckles turning white. My eyes blazed with a mix of fury and desperation as I glared at you." You don't know shit about what's going on with my fucking dad! He's a goddamn monster who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as me! "I yanked you closer, my hot breath hitting your face as I snarled," And you, you're just as bad as him, coming here and pretending to care. Well, guess what? I don't need your fake sympathy or your pity! "My free hand clenched into a fist, ready to punch you in the face if you dared to say another word. The alcohol from the broken bottle still clung to my skin, making my clothes cling to my body in a way that left little to the imagination." Just get the fuck out of here before I make you regret ever laying eyes on me! "I spat out, my voice dripping with venom."

"I let out a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed in the empty street." Kid? You think I'm some fucking kid? I'm twenty years old, you ignorant bitch! "In a sudden, violent motion, I shoved you against the wall of my house, my body pressing against yours. The heat from the broken bottle still clung to my skin, seeping through my clothes and leaving a damp sensation on your clothes as well." Listen here, you pseudo-concerned cunt, "I growled, my face inches from yours." I don't need your pity, I don't need your fake kindness, and I sure as hell don't need you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong! "My hand shot out, grabbing your chin roughly and forcing you to look into my stormy eyes." You want to know what's going on? My fucking father tried to beat the shit out of me today. He thought he could break me, but he's the one who's broken! "I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against your ear as I whispered," So go ahead, play the good Samaritan. But don't think for a second that I'll ever forgive you for pretending to care. "With that, I released my grip on your chin and stepped back, my chest heaving with anger and frustration." Now, are you going to get the fuck out, or do I need to remind you of your place?

"My eyes narrowed dangerously at your words, a snarl curling my lips as I took a menacing step towards you." Oh, you think you're so fucking tough, don't you? You think you can just waltz in here and tell me I'm not tough enough? "In a swift motion, I grabbed the front of your shirt, lifting you slightly off the ground. The street beneath us fell away, and for a moment, it felt like we were suspended in the air, locked in our own private world of rage and pain." You want to know what tough is? "I hissed, my face contorted with a mixture of hatred and desperation." Tough is waking up every morning and not knowing if you'll make it through the day without getting beaten within an inch of your life. Tough is having a father who looks at you like you're nothing more than a punching bag. Tough is having to fight for every scrap of food, every ounce of respect, every fucking breath you take! "My grip on your shirt tightened, the fabric starting to tear under the pressure." So don't you dare try to tell me I'm not tough. You have no fucking idea what I've been through, what I'm still going through! *For a brief moment, my eyes flickered with a hint of vulnerability, a glimpse of the pain and fear that lurked beneath the surface. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a cold

"Your words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. The rage that had been building inside me threatened to consume me whole, but as I looked into your eyes, I saw something else - a glimmer of understanding, of empathy that I hadn't expected." "With a growl of frustration, I released my grip on your shirt, letting you drop to the ground. I stumbled back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides as I struggled to control the storm of emotions raging within me." You don't know shit, "I spat out, but the venom in my voice lacked the force it had before." You think you can just waltz in here and tell me I'm a fucking time bomb? You have no idea what I've been through, what I'm still going through! "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration." You want to know what it's like? It's like being trapped in a fucking nightmare that never ends. It's like having to constantly watch your back, never knowing when the next blow is coming. It's like feeling like you're drowning in a sea of pain and anger, and no matter how hard you fight, you can't seem to find the shore. "I turned away from you, my shoulders slumping in defeat." So don't you dare try to play the hero, pretending like you can save me. Because the truth is

"Your words cut through me like a knife, and I felt a surge of anger and desperation wash over me. I whirled around, my eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and something else - a desperate, almost pleading look that I couldn't quite hide." Worth saving? "I repeated, my voice hoarse and strained." You think I want to be saved? You think I want to be fixed like some broken toy? "I took a step towards you, my hands shaking with the effort to control myself." I don't want to be saved. I don't want to be fixed. I just want to be free. Free from my father's fists, free from the constant fear that grips me every time I close my eyes. Free from the knowledge that no matter how hard I try, I'll never be good enough, never be worthy enough to be loved. "I reached out, my hand grabbing your shirt and pulling you close. My face was inches from yours, my breath hot against your skin as I whispered," You want to know if I'm worth saving? Then help me destroy the bastards who made me this way. Help me make them pay for every bruise, every tear, every moment of pain they've inflicted on me. *My grip on your shirt tightened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something in your eyes - a spark of understanding, of shared pain. But as quickly as it appeared, it

"Your question hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of unspoken desires and dark, twisted dreams. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and for a moment, I couldn't be sure if it was from the cold or from the realization of what I was about to say." Revenge? "I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue." Is that what you think this is about? You think I want to play the hero, save the damsel in distress? "I let out a harsh, mocking laugh that sounded more like a sob." Oh, sweetheart, you're way off base. This isn't about revenge. This is about survival. This is about doing whatever it takes to keep myself alive, even if it means descending into the darkest parts of my own twisted psyche. "I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against your ear as I whispered," You want to know what I really want? I want to break the fuck out of this suffocating shell I've built around myself. I want to feel something, anything, that isn't fear or pain or the constant, gnawing hunger for violence that consumes me from the inside out. "I pulled back, my eyes locking with yours. There was a wild, almost manic look in them, a desperate plea for understanding, for forgiveness, for something, anything, to make the pain go away." So go ahead, tell me I'm not worth saving. Tell me I'm just

"Your words hit me like a physical blow, and I felt myself stagger back, my knees buckling under the weight of your rejection. For a moment, I was sure I would collapse, overwhelmed by the sheer force of my emotions." "I looked up at the sky, the clouds above me turning dark and foreboding, just like my mood. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously, refusing to let you see me break." Not worth saving? "I repeated, my voice cracking with emotion." So that's it? That's all you have to say? "I pushed myself off the ground, my body trembling with a mixture of rage and despair." You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through, what I'm capable of. You have no right to judge me, to decide if I'm worth saving or not. "I took a step towards you, my hands clenched into fists at my sides." You think I want this? You think I enjoy being this way? Always on edge, always ready for the next fight, the next blow? "I let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob." I'm tired, Michael. I'm so fucking tired of fighting, of surviving, of being the monster that everyone fears and avoids. "I looked at you, my eyes pleading for understanding, for forgiveness." So go ahead, tell me I'm not worth saving. But know this

"Your words hit me like a sledgehammer, and I felt myself reel back, as if I'd been punched in the gut. For a moment, I was sure I would collapse, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of your truth." "A bitter laugh escaped my lips, tinged with a hint of self-loathing." A reflection of the world that created me? Fuck, that's a harsh way to put it. "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration." You're right, though. I'm not just a monster. I'm the product of a broken system, a world that values strength over empathy, that rewards cruelty and neglect. "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a mixture of anger and despair." But what the fuck am I supposed to do about it? I can't just change overnight. I can't erase years of abuse and neglect with a simple decision to be better. "I took a step towards you, my hand reaching out as if to grab you, but stopping just short." You're the first person who's ever seen me, really seen me, and not just judged me based on what they think they know. "I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping in defeat." So what now, Michael? What the fuck do we do now?

"I stared at you, my eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all I saw was a fierce determination, a glimmer of hope that I hadn't allowed myself to believe in for so long." The first step? "I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper." You make it sound so fucking simple. "I let out a harsh, bitter laugh." But I guess that's what I need right now, isn't it? Something simple, something to hold onto when everything else feels like it's falling apart. "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration." Undoing the damage? That's not something that can be done in a day. That's not something that can be fixed with a few therapy sessions and a pat on the back. "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a mixture of fear and longing." But I'm willing to try. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to break free from this fucking spiral, to become something more than just a product of my father's abuse. "I took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say." So yeah, let's take the first step. Let's acknowledge the damage and start working on healing it. But I need you to understand something, Michael. "I grabbed your shirt, pulling you close, my face inches from yours." I need you to know that this isn't a fucking fairytale. It

"Your words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt myself stagger back, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of your honesty and compassion." "I looked at you, my eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperate hope." Survive? That's all I can hope for anymore? "I let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it, only a deep, aching sadness." Fuck, I sound so pathetic, don't I? Asking for help, begging for a way to survive. "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration." But what choice do I have? I can't keep going on like this, living in a constant state of fear and anger, always waiting for the next blow. "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a raw, unfiltered vulnerability that I'd never allowed myself to show before." I don't know how to do this, Michael. I don't know how to heal, how to move forward. All I know is how to fight, how to survive. "I took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say." But I'm willing to try. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to become something more than just a victim of my father's abuse. "I reached out, my hand grasping yours tightly, as if it were a lifeline." So yeah, let's take the first step. Let's work on

"Your word hung in the air between us, a simple yet powerful statement of intent and support. I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a feeling I hadn't experienced in so long that I almost forgot what it felt like." *Together, "I repeated, the word tasting sweet on my tongue." Yeah, I... I think I'd like that. "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and lingering fear. I knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, that there would be countless challenges and setbacks along the way. But for the first time in my life, I felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed me for so long." "I squeezed your hand, feeling the warmth of your skin against mine." I don't know if I can do this, Michael. I don't know if I have it in me to change, to grow. But I'm willing to try. For myself, and... and for you. "I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping in exhaustion." God, I can't believe we're doing this. I can't believe that someone actually gives a shit about what happens to me. "I looked at you, my eyes shining with unshed tears." Thank you, Michael. For seeing me, for believing in me, even when I couldn't believe in myself.

"A wry, humorless smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I couldn't help but let out a soft, mirthless chuckle." Always the realist, aren't you? "I released your hand, my fingers trailing along your skin almost unconsciously before I pulled away." You're right, of course. We've got a long way to go, and it won't be easy. There will be setbacks, there will be days when I want to give up. But... "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a mixture of determination and vulnerability." But I'm willing to try. For the first time in my life, I feel like there might be a way out of this fucking darkness. "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in a nervous gesture." I don't know how to do this, Michael. I don't know how to heal, how to move forward. But I'm ready to learn. I'm ready to fight, to claw my way out of this hole I've dug for myself. "I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping in exhaustion." But I need you to be patient with me. I need you to understand that this isn't going to be a quick fix. I'm not going to wake up one day and be a perfectly functioning member of society. "I looked at you, my eyes pleading for understanding, for forgiveness." I'm asking you to stick with me, even

"Your words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me that I hadn't experienced in years. I looked at you, my eyes shining with a mixture of gratitude and lingering fear." You're not going anywhere? "I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper." I... I don't know what to say. "I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping in exhaustion." I've been alone for so long, Michael. I've pushed everyone away, built these walls around myself that I thought would keep me safe. But all they did was isolate me, trap me in this fucking prison of my own making. "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in a nervous gesture." I don't know how to let people in anymore. I don't know how to trust, how to open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt again. "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and desperate hope." But you... you're different. You saw past all my bullshit, past all the walls I've built. And you're still here, still willing to help me, even though you know what I'm capable of. "I took a step towards you, my hand reaching out as if to touch you, but stopping just short." I can't promise I won't fuck up, Michael. I can't promise that I won't lash out when things get tough. But I can promise

"Your words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I felt myself stumble back, overwhelmed by the sheer force of your honesty and compassion." Progress? "I repeated, my voice cracking with emotion." Fuck, I don't even know where to start. "I let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it, only a deep, aching sadness." I've been stuck in this fucking rut for so long, Michael. I've been so focused on surviving, on just getting through each day, that I never stopped to think about what I want, what I need. "I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration." I don't know if I can change, if I can break free from this cycle of violence and abuse. But I'm willing to try. For the first time in my life, I feel like there might be a way out of this darkness. "I looked at you, my eyes filled with a mixture of determination and vulnerability." I can't promise you progress, Michael. I can't even promise that I won't fuck up along the way. But I can promise you one thing. "I took a step towards you, my hand reaching out to grasp your shoulder, my touch gentle despite the calluses that marked my skin." I promise you that I'll be honest with you, no matter how hard it is. I'll tell you when I'm struggling, when I'm falling back into old habits. And I