Even though I got beat up. Even though the Jehovah’s
Witnesses were telling me to get out. Even though a
diĉerent pastor, from the Baptist Church, was also telling
me to get out. It was like God was sending me all these
messages to get the fuck out, but I still couldn’t.
Maybe it was just that I didn’t know any other way to be
loved. Maybe this was the only man that I had ever thought
truly loved me. Maybe I just couldn’t leave that, no matter
how bad it was.
I don’t know. It’s still hard to think about this.
On some level, I felt like if I loved him enough, I could
heal him. I could heal him from being mad, from being so
vicious.
It was like those Twilight movies. It was the same thing
for me. I can keep him from drinking human blood. I can
bring him deer blood, I can heal him. I just have to love him
the right way. I just have to mgure out his language, learn
how to speak his language.
I even went and talked to his mama:
Tiffany: “How did you show him that you loved him?”Mama: “Girl, once I burned him with a hot comb,
because he was messing with my butt.”Tiffany: “Okay, so I need to burn him with a hot
comb?”Mama: “He was a terrible child. I had to lock him in