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One time when I refused to have sex with Michael he pulled a knife from his side drawer and began to cut at his wrists, yelling at me about how I was doing this to him. The cuts were my fault and I forced him to resort to it by not loving him and not giving my body to him on demand. 

After guilt tripping and insulting me more he pulled his dick out and forced me to give him oral and then raped me. 

This wasn't a rare incident. I don't know why I'm even thinking about it right now because I'm not upset or anything. I think I saw something on Tumblr that reminded me.  

I just wanted to say it so I can remember that the pain and fear I used to feel, and the anxiety I feel now when I think about him or pass him while driving or when someone brings him up... It's justified. I'm allowed to feel that way even though I'm in a better place now.