Trauma & Healing, Survivor Stories, Abuse Awareness, Mental Health & Wellness, Writing Through Pain, Relationships & Boundaries, The Lies That Bind Us Series, Author Reflections, Resources & Support Sophia Zane Trauma & Healing, Survivor Stories, Abuse Awareness, Mental Health & Wellness, Writing Through Pain, Relationships & Boundaries, The Lies That Bind Us Series, Author Reflections, Resources & Support Sophia Zane

Before the Scream, There Was Silence

Abuse doesn’t wear one face.
It doesn’t come in one form.

Sometimes, it’s loud. A slammed door, a shouted insult, the sting of a hand across your cheek. Other times, it’s quiet—so quiet you almost convince yourself it isn’t real. The kind of cruelty that doesn’t leave bruises but settles into your chest, making you doubt your worth, your memory, your sanity.

Abuse can happen to anyone—male or female, young or old. It doesn’t care about where you live, how much money you make, or what kind of family you were born into. It can come from a spouse, a partner, a friend, a teacher, a religious official, an employer, even a neighbor. Sometimes it comes from the people you were raised to trust most.

That’s why it’s so hard to name.

Because when the one who’s supposed to love you the most becomes the one who hurts you, the ground beneath you doesn’t just shake—it shatters.

Childhood Shadows

For many, the first lessons about abuse come in childhood. Maybe it’s a parent with their own unresolved pain—mental illness they won’t treat, alcohol they drink like water, or rage they don’t know how to control.

It might look like “small” cruelties:

  • Being slapped for missing the bus.

  • Being dragged out of bed at midnight because the trash wasn’t taken out or the dishwasher wasn’t emptied.

  • Being told you’re worthless because your room isn’t spotless.

And sometimes it isn’t small at all.


Sometimes it’s coming home from prom, smiling from the best night of your life, only to be grabbed by the throat by a drunk parent who decides your joy is an offense.

When Love Turns Into Control

In adulthood, the patterns don’t always stop. They just change their face.

It can be a spouse whose anger explodes because dinner wasn’t on the table at the “right” time. A partner who monitors your phone and calls it “love.” A friend who chips away at your confidence, little by little, until you stop recognizing yourself.

It can be the religious official who takes “guidance” too far. The therapist who blurs lines and calls it “connection.” The boss who threatens your job if you don’t play along.

Abuse doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it smiles. Sometimes it waits until you’re vulnerable—starved for affection, desperate for safety—and then takes advantage of the hunger you never asked to have.

More Than Bruises

When people hear the word abuse, they think of broken bones and black eyes.
But bruises fade. Broken bones heal.

It’s the words that echo for decades.
The fear of saying the wrong thing.
The hypervigilance of always listening for the switch in tone.
The shame of believing it’s somehow your fault.

That’s the abuse that hides in plain sight. The kind that convinces you you’re overreacting, that you should “just get over it,” that because there are no scars, there’s no story.

But there is. There always is.

Why It’s Hard to Leave

If you’ve ever wondered, “Why don’t they just leave?”—know this: leaving isn’t simple.

Fear keeps people in place.
Hope convinces them things will change.
Shame whispers no one will believe them.
Love—twisted and distorted—makes them hold on longer than they should.

And for some, leaving feels more dangerous than staying.

What Needs to Be Said

Abuse is abuse. Whether it’s a raised hand or a cutting word. Whether it’s control disguised as love or manipulation disguised as loyalty.

You don’t owe anyone your silence.
You don’t have to prove your pain.
You don’t have to justify your no.

Real love doesn’t demand your suffering.
Real love doesn’t keep score.
Real love doesn’t hinge on obedience, endurance, or the threat of what happens if you walk away.

If This Is You

If you’ve lived this—if you’re living this—you are not alone.

If someone has ever made you feel like love was a debt you owed…
If someone waited until you were vulnerable to step in and call it “fate”…
If someone made your no feel like betrayal…

There are people who will believe you.
There are resources to help you leave.

And there is a life beyond this—one where peace doesn’t feel like a luxury.

-You are allowed to choose yourself.
-You are allowed to rewrite the story.
- You are allowed to say no—and mean it.

Your safety is the most important thing.

If you are experiencing any form of abuse—physical, emotional, sexual, financial, or spiritual—please know you are not alone. There are people and services ready to help you. If you don’t have someone in your life you can trust right now, call one of the resources below. If you are in immediate danger, call the police and get to a safe place—physical abuse can escalate and become deadly, and it rarely gets better on its own.

You do not have to stay. He will not change just because you hope he will. You are allowed to put your life and wellbeing first. Asking for help is not weak—it’s brave. Reach out. Tell someone.

In my writing, I give voice to characters who carry these scars—because fiction can make it easier to face what’s hardest to say out loud.

But outside the page, your story matters most.

And you deserve safety, healing, and hope.

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