I had just spent the night with my boyfriend, a seemingly beautiful man. Dinner at a Japanese restaurant where they cooked the food right in front of us, and then a walk in the town park– it was a fabulous night for two new-ish teen lovers, me sixteen and him seventeen going on eighteen next week. Ever since he and I started dating, Will invited me everywhere with him when we weren't in school. We even practice singing choir songs together every evening, since it is the one class we have together.
          I can't help but be lured into his strong arms and that to-die-for smile. Anything that boy does to me or for me, I take it. I stay with him because I can't live without him; no one will ever love me like he does. He drove me back to his place to practice more of our songs, and I even played one of my own songs for him.
          It turns out he's not the guy he made himself to be: "are you kidding me, Lucia? That song was not good."
          "Why not, Will? What's wrong with it?" I ask him.
          "It's just not true. You really think you can write such a boy band-ish song about love like that? About me? You write a song about me and this is what I get? You gotta do better."
          I slowly frown and look down, sighing. "I'm sorry, Will. I promise to write a better song for you at some point. Okay?"
          "At some point? You should do it now. If you really loved me, you would write it now. And you would work harder on it in the first place also."
          "Will, I do love you. I'm just new to writing songs and am still learning the ropes. Just give me some time, please."
          "That's no excuse. I won't let you leave until you write me a new song."
          "But we have school in the morning."
          "Who cares? Let's just live our lives to the fullest. Who cares if we skip one day?"
          "I do, because I want to get good grades and a shot at getting into college."
          "Then stop writing songs because that won't get you anywhere. You don't even know what you want to do with your life!"
          I hesitate, almost in tears. Then I nod, "you're right, Will. Do you still want me to write another song for you though?"
          "Yes."
          "Okay." I then pull a sheet of paper out of my notebook in my backpack, then start writing away what I think he would like. He watched over me, giving me suggestions and reading it over my shoulder. I just wanted to get this over with.
          But even after he reads my second song for him and approves (which was a song that I wasn't proud of myself), Will makes me stay awhile longer. "I think you deserve something good after that good song. So I'm gonna give it to you." My face lightens up a little bit until he "playfully" pushes me onto his bed and climbs up on it uncomfortably close next to me.

Every moment after that hurt even more. And not just that night either. Since then, I never showed Will any of my work. When he wasn't cold or distant, he was violent and rude. It took a lot of time and courage to finally escape because he always managed to lure me back in somehow.

It wasn't until the end of my senior year of high school when I was finally free from him. He graduated a year before I did and went to our local community college just so he could stay with me for longer. Even though I had freed myself, his voice in my head was still there, policing my body, my art, and who I spend my time with when it's not with him.