Every headlight blaring through the bedroom blinds, another stopped heartbeat. After six years, you still aren't over. I can’t help but to cringe every time I glance out, afraid to see your license plate. Things will never come to an end with you. How long will you be that nervous glance over my shoulder, the rise of panic whenever I see a hairstyle similar to yours? Six years of court, abuse, and manipulation. It’s never going to end. An unmarked address, a change of name, when will I be safe? A title hovering over my head, When can I finally rid myself of it? I’m terrified of a never ending story. A power struggle for my independence. What would've happened had you not passed out, actually pulled the trigger?