You Loved Me (but that was a lie)

I don’t believe you when you say you love me. I don’t think I ever had. Not even when things were good. Not even when you took us out to nice restaurants and held my hand and told me I was perfect and that you loved me. Not even when you took us to the state fair and you said you loved me at the top of the Ferris wheel.
I wish I could believe you.
When you first grabbed my hand real hard when I was going to school and told me not to leave and I told you to let go you said you loved me. When you first dragged your hand down my arm and twisted it to say “don’t leave me” and I told you it hurt. I stayed because you loved me. And the good had outweighed the bad at that point. But sometimes you say you love me and I can’t stand it.
You said you loved me before you choked me out. Said you loved me before throwing me against a wall. I never told anyone about my pain because in public you were so nice and loving, and none of the bruises were visible. And then I didn’t want to hear it anymore. You said you loved me while I locked myself in rooms, while I was in class after one of your episodes and I just wanted you to stop texting me. When you yelled at me from the other side of the bathroom door to come out. When you yelled at me and told me that you loved me. Told me it wouldn’t happen again. I took a hard look at myself and craved silence instead of your voice.
I don’t think I’m ever going to want someone to say they love me again. I’m too broken, too lost.
I don’t want anyone to ever look at me again with the “why did she leave him” face. “He was bent out of shape after she left”
I don’t want anyone to ever think I was weak or that I was too proud to leave. I loved you but I’ve started to think that your I love you’s were said so that you could hurt me again.