Killing the Girl I Used to Be

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This story contains depictions of emotional abuse, isolation, and violence. Please read with caution.

Ivy thought she had entered a lasting and loving relationship with Sam. He seemed perfect, did everything right. Yet, before she realized it, she was trapped in a toxic, abusive relationship — isolated from her friends, her family, from everyone. She was being watched, followed, commanded. She only had him. Without him, she had nothing left.

There was never physical violence toward her. He would smash her phone, rip her clothes, throw away her makeup — but he would never hit her. And he was a good actor; he turned everything so she looked like the bad guy. On the streets, people would see this loving man helping his “insane girlfriend.” No one believed her. He was as charismatic as he was cruel.

But once the doors were closed, Sam became a monster. Ivy was never pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough. If she accidentally caught another man’s eye, he accused her of cheating. Even if it was an old man in a chair, she was “throwing herself” at him.

Her cooking was never right. She should have known what he wanted, yet every meal was thrown against the wall, forcing her to cook again. She was a slave in the bedroom, treated like a possession. Exhausted, she faced constant accusations of imagined infidelities.

On rare days, he would let her out. She would enjoy the silence, even though she looked like she lived on the streets — dirty clothes, unwashed for days. Washing was a luxury; water, Sam said, was expensive. She had to wait until he allowed it.

And that’s when she met a woman. Same age, strikingly familiar, yet Ivy couldn’t place her. The woman started walking toward her. If Sam found out, it would end in disaster. Ivy had no idea what to do.

“You need to leave him. You’re losing yourself,” the woman said, then walked away. Who was she? How did she know? It was like she knew.

This wasn’t the only time. While Ivy and Sam were grocery shopping, the woman appeared behind her again, whispering the same words: “You need to leave him. Now.” Ivy panicked. Did Sam hear her? See her? The woman looked back with sympathy. Why was she following her?

Another time, as they left the house, the woman stood at the end of the driveway, shouting, “You’re losing yourself! Help yourself!” Sam didn’t seem to notice her, but Ivy did. She was scared — and annoyed. She knew the woman from somewhere, but couldn’t remember where.

One day, on another solitary walk, the woman fell in step with her.

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” she asked.

“Why are you talking to me? Do I know you? Are you stalking me?” Ivy snapped.

“I’m not. I’m helping you. You’re going to lose yourself.”

“You keep saying that! How do you know about me? Why are you bothering me? I don’t know you. How do you know where I live? You’re lucky Sam doesn’t know — you’re making things worse!” Ivy cried. “Just leave me alone.”

The woman looked at her with sadness before turning to walk away.

Ivy sighed in relief, thinking maybe she would finally go away. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

That night was like any other. Sam was drunk, and a drunk Sam was unpredictable. But this time, he passed out in bed — at least Ivy didn’t have to endure another bedroom nightmare. She could rest.

She went into the kitchen to get water — and jumped. The woman was there.

“How the hell did you break in? Get out!” Ivy whispered. The woman didn’t move, she just stared at Ivy.

“What the fuck, get out!” Ivy whispered again, hoping Sam wouldn’t wake.

“No. This is your perfect time. You need to get out,” the woman whispered back.

“No! Get out! This is trespassing! I’ll call the police!”

“Ivy, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you staying? Just run! Run now! He has money in his wallet — take it and get away, look at yourself!” the woman hissed.

Ivy was messy, dirty, and worn out, but why was this woman obsessed with her? The woman grabbed her, hurting her, trying to drag her out. Ivy fought back, punching her in the face, but the woman didn’t stop.

Then Ivy noticed the knife on the counter. In a fit of panic, she grabbed it and stabbed the woman. The woman froze, dropping to the floor. Ivy got on top, stabbing again and again.

“Now… now… you… have… lost yourself,” the woman coughed, blood dripping from her mouth.

Ivy froze. What had she done? How would she tell Sam she had murdered someone? Then it hit her. She did know this woman. It was her — the confident, beautiful woman she once was. Dead. Ivy had truly lost herself. She now understood what the woman had been trying to tell her: save yourself… but it was too late.

Sam burst in, seeing Ivy on the floor, knife in hand. No blood. No body. Just Ivy looking scared and lost.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch?” he shouted.

Ivy looked at him, and for the first time, she questioned why she had been so afraid of him. This man had taken everything from her. She had done nothing but love him — but he never felt the same. She knew that now. Then the fear turned into hate. She hated him.

“I’m going to bed. Sort yourself out,” he said, slamming the kitchen door.

Ivy stayed on the floor, thinking. She remembered what the woman said: he had money in his wallet — Ivy knew he always kept at least £500 in cash. That could help her escape. Sam had taken all her money over the years; what was £500? She waited until he was in a deep sleep, then quietly crept out and took the cash.

She ran faster than she ever thought she could, not knowing where she was going, only that she was leaving him behind. The further she went, the clearer things became. The more freedom she felt.

The woman she had been was gone, never to return. But Ivy now had a chance to be someone else. To create a new self. It would take time. It would be hard. But Ivy would make it possible.

When you’re in a toxic relationship, you don’t just lose your freedom — you lose yourself. Piece by piece, day by day, who you are gets stripped away until you barely recognize the person in the mirror. I know this happens across all kinds of people, all over the world. It’s more common than we talk about. But why do people stay in situations like this, with people who hurt them? Because they are made to feel that is all they are worth. Most do want to leave, but the thought of leaving is terrifying. Even if you walk away, fear never fully goes — fear of what might happen, fear of being alone, fear of losing what little control you have left. That’s the story I want to write: about a girl so lost she kills the last version of herself. It’s dark, but it’s real — because sometimes, after abuse, you can’t go back to who you were. You have to create someone new.

© 2025 Louise C Kay. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.