“I locked my daughter in her room. ‘He’s gonna get me. Mama, save me.’ He bit my arms, hands, and chest, drawing blood with each bite. I begged him to stop. It was too late. He was not him. I fell beside the couch. I felt like a battered wife, except it was my child. My child who, after a rage, would cry and kiss me, looking at me with big, sad eyes, begging me to ‘fix it.’ I wasn’t mad at him. I was completely broken.”
- Love What Matters
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