When I finally called a hotline, my voice was a whisper. "He doesn't hit me," I said, ashamed. "He just... moves the bird."
Today, I have a new apartment. There is a shelf in my kitchen. On it is a messy stack of cookbooks, a coffee mug with a chip in it, and a fake flower my daughter made from pipe cleaners. Nothing is aligned. Nothing is perfect. 7 SOE 019 Rape -Sora Aoi-
If it isn't physical, it isn't abuse.
My husband never hit me. Not once. So when people ask, "Why didn't you just leave?" I tell them about the shelf. When I finally called a hotline, my voice was a whisper