He never punched me, never smacked me across the face—which meant he probably never did that to Katie either. But that didn’t mean he was all that much better.

You know who Layton was? He was that little boy who held his Christmas kitten extra tight to show he loved it. And when it squirmed, he held it tighter to keep it from running into the street. And when it scratched, he grabbed its paws, and when it tried to bite, he squeezed its jaw, and when it hissed, he clamped its neck, and when it died in his hands, it wasn’t his fault, because he was only trying to teach it right from wrong, but it just couldn’t learn. Why couldn’t it learn, Daddy, why? Damn shame—but that’s okay, son, we’ll get you another kitty.

Even if they begin with good intentions, in their heart of hearts abusers believe love is about control. They believe it’s about possession. And why shouldn’t they? It’s the ugly underbelly of every love song ever written. Don’t believe me? How many love songs have the words “you’re mine” in the core of the lyrics? Or “I’ll never let you go,” or “you belong to me.” For guys like Layton, it’s much too easy to take that literally.

As I sat on the couch with him that morning, there were so many memories of “us” that came to me. You want to hear that our relationship was a perpetual nightmare, don’t you? It would be so much easier if I could tell you that. But my memories were a confusing mix. Some were actually warm fuzzy things—the kinds of memories that make you smile. But those good memories were riddled by the bullets of the bad ones. Harsh, secret things that are hard to share even with your closest friends.

We want to portray abusers as having no redeeming qualities. We want to believe a guy who can treat a woman like that is evil through and through. In movies and TV, you always know the abuser, because he’s BAD with a capital B. It’s all clear-cut and simple, and we shake our heads at the poor women who are naïve enough to fall for them. Can’t they see that capital B? What’s wrong with them? It makes the rest of us feel good to know we’re so much smarter.

But that’s not real life.