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Chapter 2 – Church Girl Gone

Author: Numi
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-26 22:22:09

I used to know who I was. Sunday mornings in church. Bible study on Wednesdays. A girl with conviction. A girl with faith. Until him.

They say you become who you spend time with. I didn’t believe that until I saw my reflection one morning — makeup smudged, last night’s clothes still clinging to my body, the scent of alcohol and someone else’s choices clinging to my skin.

It wasn’t mine.

Not this version of me.

He had become my religion. I traded in sermons for sleep-ins, quiet prayer for chaotic mornings in his bed. I stopped showing up to the life I once held sacred.

It didn’t happen all at once.

It was slow. Quiet. Subtle.

The first Sunday I missed church, I told myself I was tired.

The second, he had a late game and wanted me to stay.

The third, I didn’t even feel guilty.

I started to wear shorter skirts. Louder lipstick. Drink more. Laugh louder. Curse more.

He’d say things like, “You’re so much more fun now.”

And part of me liked that. Liked the attention. Liked the way he looked at me like I was evolving.

But deep down…

I knew I was just becoming someone easier to keep.

I stopped setting boundaries. I stopped questioning him. I was afraid if I said too much, asked too much, or needed too much… he’d leave.

And I wasn’t ready to be abandoned.

Not by him.

He came home drunk one night — shirt half-buttoned, eyes red, smelling like smoke and someone else’s perfume.

I confronted him.

“Where were you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why do you always start drama?”

“You didn’t answer your phone for five hours.”

“I was out. I needed space.”

I said something — I don’t even remember what — but it hit a nerve.

He stood up so fast his drink spilled. Threw his glass at the wall. It shattered.

He didn’t hit me.

But I still flinched.

And the way he looked at me after?

He saw the fear in my face.

And he smirked.

“You made me this way.”

I wanted to scream. To run. To call someone. But I stayed.

Because when you’ve drifted so far from who you are, you start believing you deserve the version of love you’re getting.

He always came back with apologies.

Soft words. Late-night texts. Sudden gifts.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You bring out the real me.”

“No one understands me like you do.”

I mistook manipulation for vulnerability.

I remember my best friend Wally called me one night.

“Where have you been?”

“You okay? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

I lied.

Said I was just busy. Said I was fine.

I wasn’t.

I missed her.

I missed me.

But I was in too deep.

He had a grip on me — not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually.

And I didn’t know how to loosen it.

One night, I made a mistake.

A real one.

I kissed someone else.

It wasn’t planned.

It wasn’t revenge.

It was weakness.

It was a desperate attempt to feel like someone still saw me — not the version of me I’d become, but the girl I used to be.

Kind. Grounded. Desired for more than just my body or silence.

The kiss was short. Barely even a kiss. But the guilt roared through me like thunder.

I told him.

And for the first time…

He broke.

His eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. He didn’t scream. He didn’t throw anything.

But the next day, he changed every password I had access to.

Locked me out of our shared playlists.

Deleted our photos off his feed.

And messaged every guy I’d ever spoken to with one simple line:

“She’s a liar.”

He made sure I felt the weight of betrayal — even though he’d done it a hundred times before me.

He called me disgusting.

Said I was like all the others.

Said I ruined everything.

And part of me believed it.

I cried for days.

I wanted to explain. To apologize.

To make him understand that I hadn’t meant to hurt him — I just forgot what it felt like to be loved gently.

But he didn’t care.

He blocked me.

Then unblocked me.

Then messaged “I miss you” at 3am.

Then ignored me for days again.

It was a game.

A cruel one.

And I was finally starting to realize…

I wasn’t the player.

I was the pawn.

It wasn’t just about church. Or faith. Or friends.

It was about losing myself to someone who never planned to hold me gently.

He didn’t just change me.

He erased me.

And now, I had to figure out who I was underneath the mess he left behind.

But I wasn’t ready to leave him just yet.

I still thought there was something worth saving.

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