I am in a relationship, with two people, at the same time. I sleep, with two different people, at the same time. This is a serious relationship, and it will be, for a very long time. During the day he holds my hand, walks me to my lectures, kissing my temple softly as he leaves me each time. Always, he tells me how beautiful I am, talented, ambitious, and funny. Laughing, he calls me his crocodile, and he is my log. Besides, a crocodile always needs a nice log to lay on during the warm African days. A support system, tough, stable, sturdy. For he is the perfect gentlemen, and we are in a perfect relationship.

During the evening we go out with our friends, order drinks from the bar, sitting, then dancing, laughing. I look at him across from me, and I love him. I love him with my entire soul, every hair on my body, every inch of me, loves him. He knows me, well. But he does not know all of me. I don’t even know all of me. We dance, around and around, song after song, growing hot as more people come into the bar, things growing louder, as we all laugh louder. The lights dim, only the flicker of his eyes are what I watch, seeking guidance, direction, perhaps help. As his hand brushes against my backside, he whispers into my ear how attractive I am, I feel him behind me. Sober. Wanted.

We return to his flat, hand in hand, he kisses my cheek, and then my lips as we walk inside. Gently taking our shoes off, pouring some water into glasses, we prepare for bed. I take a brisk hot shower, letting my makeup free from the cage of my face, letting my previously straightened hair, wet to curl and wave. Letting all of the day rinse off of me, down the drain, as if it were a disease. Putting on my night clothes, brushing my teeth, I get into the bed. His bed. His bed that I would rather wake up in than my own. Twisted amongst the grey sheets, knowing he would always be there.

When he comes to bed beside me, embracing me in his thick, lean, muscular arms, kissing the back of my neck and whispering “I love you” into my ear. The smell of his body wash and after shave blind my senses with pleasure, knowing that only he is there with me. Knowing that he loves me, and we are in a relationship. He kisses me more fervently, and pulls at my hair, our bodies move in synchrony, until he leaves me, and my mind, and then He comes. He rolls on top of me, my eyes grow. Kissing me harder, and harder, wanting to be completely inside. I pull away and turn my head. I do not like Him, but we are in a relationship. He knows more of me than he does, He has more of me than he does. He wants less of me than he does. So why am I in a relationship with Him. The other one, I mean. As I turn my head from His rough foreplay, my entire body retreats, becoming limp and lifeless, as a doll left for Him to play with. I take His advances, and I cringe in pain until it ends. But we are still in a relationship.

I wake up the next morning, next to my love. The one who knows me, and loves me. Who supports me and would never hurt me. The one with the perfect relationship.

The two people I am in a relationship with do not know it. They do not know each other, nor do they know that they are with someone who is in a relationship with two people.

It has been two months that I have been with him, my love. And it has been over a year since I’ve been with Him. The other one. But I do not love the other one, nor do I talk with him, or enjoy his presence. But He is always there.

The night He took me for His own, He took me from more than my own self. He took me from my love. From him.

So now, every time my love tries to take me back, He is there. He is standing right there. In the darkest corner, of the darkest room, in the darkest of nights. Waiting to take me, as I am His.

He fights him, my love. He fights him through me. Pulling at my brain like a piece of taffy, winding it and wrapping it around his abuse. Paralyzing me, from him. From my love.

I am in a relationship, with two people, at the same time. I sleep, with two different people, at the same time. This is a serious relationship, and it will be, for a very long time.

This is the story of my boyfriend, and my Rapist.

I love him, but He has me.