Oh, the guilt—
it sits heavy in my chest.
I carry it every day.
Do you?
Or did you slip away
untouched
by the wreckage you left behind?

I’ll never know.
You hide your heart
like a locked door.
But I remember how you came
not with kindness,
but with something to prove—
a twisted belief
that girls like me,
soft-spoken,
faithful,
could be broken
if pushed just right.

But don’t you see?
It was never about me failing.
It was you—
your hands,
your choices,
your violence.

I was whole.
I was safe.
Until you burned through
what I was.

You called it a test.
I call it a wound.
You called it truth.
I call it cruelty.

You proved your point,
if that’s what you wanted.
But what did it cost?
A piece of me I’ll never get back.
A soul scarred by what you called proof.