Maybe, I should have fought back.

I should have never let her isolate me from the people I loved. I should have never let her control me like a puppet. I should have never let her disrespect me, or insult me…

I should have never let her hit me. Over and over, she’d get physical with me, marking me with cuts, bruises, and a black eye.

She’d always tell me that no one would believe me if I told them. I tried speaking about it to the people closest to me. I tried reporting it to the police. All I’d get in return is mockery, scorn, and shame. I gave up trying. “A man being abused by a woman? Ha! You’re not serious! Act like a man. You’re a weakling! You should have just hit her. Teach her a lesson”.

Maybe they were right. I was weak. I was not acting like a man. Perhaps, I should have “taught her a lesson”.

But it’s too late now. It’s too late to fight back. All I can do now is lay in my casket, while those who mocked me shovel mounds of dirt into my grave. Here lies a man, stabbed to death by the woman he once loved.