It started with name calling.
Bitch.
She'd defended Brooke after he'd labeled her a spoiled little rich girl who only cared about herself.
Whore.
She'd kissed Mouth on the cheek after yet another victory from the Ravens basketball team.
Slut.
She'd spent the night with Lucas after the psycho Derek attack. He hadn't even known her then.
The next day, it was always the same: He was sorry. He didn't know why he did the things he did. There would be flowers, days spent inside watching her favorite movies, the bed covered in rose petals.
He'd wrap his arms around her waist and whisper those three words, eight letters that every girl died to hear. To anyone who knew him, he was the kindest, gentlest man. Only behind closed doors did he become a monster.
He'd tricked her into believing he'd really changed, playing the I'm so sorry card so many times that she instantly forgave him, even once declaring that they would be together forever.
He knows what he's doing, he doesn't 'lose control!'
He hurts you on purpose.
Think about that: the man you love so much purposely hurts you, Peyton!
She was stupid, she was selfish, she was a bitch. She felt like she was walking on eggshells, censoring everything she said to make sure that nothing made him angry. Eventually, she was 'purposely provoking him' whenever he seemed on the verge of getting physical.
She didn't know what the early warning signs should have been at the time. He was overwhelming, courting her with roses, charm and passion. But he was also so possessive, with a sort of strutting, stereotypical masculinity. He could be very crude about women, and she found herself constantly justifying him to family and friends.
How many times could a person apologize before you stopped believing them?