This is what I hate. I hate that I’m angry.. But I’m also scared. No matter how angry I get, no matter how much I hate you, I’m still scared of you. You took any innocence I had, except for a tiny piece that I clung onto. That tiny part of me is what’s scared. The rest of me hates you, wants nothing to do with you, but that piece is terrified that the monster you were is still there, under the surface and one wrong move will bring it back out. Its that tiny piece that keeps me from telling anyone, from telling you how I feel. And I hate that. I hate that I’m still scared. I hate you for being the reason I’m scared. I hate it.