I felt what I thought was love, and I think it was meant to be love, and it didn’t stop when the abuse got worse, it just became overwhelmed by disappointment (the dismal present versus the once-hopeful future) and fear (which was also used as a tool of control by the abuser). And I stayed until the fear of staying became greater than the fear of leaving. And she still says she loves me, and I believe her, and I feel some love for her too. But I also know that we’re much better off apart and getting back together would just continue our downward journey into catastrophe.