Carrying his bag is a given. Every day, he sends you on errands to the snack bar. Whenever you walk together on a deserted path and he stops, his hand goes up. Each time, you have developed the habit of a victim—closing your eyes tight and trying to hide your old wounds. He knows every single spot where you hurt the most, every scar and bruise that will last a lifetime.

You don't know why you're dating. It's probably not because he likes you. You don't make the person you like develop a habit of flinching every time someone raises a hand.

There is no reason for this relationship. It has been this way since middle school. You had to do whatever he told you to do, even if you hated it or it was painful. His word was law and the truth of your world. When you broke that law or disobeyed that truth, your cheek and his right hand would collide with a sharp slap.

"Hey. Hey. 'Girlfriend'? What the hell are you thinking about?"