IPV and DV healing is everyday, to some one who has insured the hands of violence.

Who are you I pondered to myself? As I stood outside, watching him take my phone and put it in his pocket.
Air, of his breath that breathed out lies and the smell of alcohol, of what he just did. Sounds of hate and words of violence, spit from lips directed towards my face.
First a fist to insult and boot to flesh, lying on a hard, cold pavement to my chest. Then to lay on top of the carpet, as he took my breath away. Throw something again, at my face. I’ll be your scapegoat just this once and then can we live in peace?
Who is this demon in my presence laughing when I was in pain, and when I spoke of God, spiritual abuse is not all he was. He was a hired hitman in disguise.