The lies she lived with couldn't continue. I refused to allow her to destroy herself. She barely slept and I wasn't as stupid as the first time she stayed with me. Then, I missed the small nuances that showed how exhausted she was. That would never happen again. And now something set her off without lack of sleep involved. Some trigger that no one but she understood. I couldn't fucking help her if she wouldn't talk to me. All my frustration from months ago came rising to the surface. I imagined her as a young child being raped, beaten, or both. I couldn't stand the pictures in my head... the unknown.