*Don't read*

What you did to her

I don't know you. I don't know what you did to her. I just know what she used to be like. You took a virtuous young woman and took and took and took. She would have kept giving, even though you took all. She told me she would have endured any amount of "pain and humiliation" to keep you, to keep you happy, to keep you coming home to her. 

I don't know what you did to her, but I see the end result of it, how she's done with life, done with men, just ... done. She'll never trust again the way she trusted you, and never will she lay herself bare and vulnerable in a man's arms again. Whatever you did to her, I don't know, but she'll never be the same. She's always going to have that awareness in the back of her head that she's been done wrong, that she's going to find out any day just how wrong she's been done. You made her a detective when you should have been making her smile. You made her question every little phone call and text and errant gaze because you'd stuck your hand deep inside her chest and grabbed her heart, pulled it to your face, and spoke the vilest hate to it. When she should have been carefree and secure, you made her feel suspicious and paranoid, then made her feel crazy for asking questions. You beast, you brute. You ruined her. Of all the women in the world to ruin, you chose one of the good ones, one with the purest soul, a soul that never imagined the depravity you sought. 

What filthy things did you say and do to her to make her feel so dirty? You grasped her like a whore for your personal satisfaction when you should have held her like the priceless woman she is, a rare stone such as I've never seen. You made her feel dirty and used when you should have spoken words to help her see the treasure she is. You took advantage of her insecurities and heaped upon them more. You knew she'd cover for you because she loved you, because she wanted her life to appear perfect even though it wasn't. 

I wonder how many people in her life and her town knew what you were up to but didn't say anything. How many pitied her and talked behind her back? You did this to her. You put her in the position to have people talk like that. You didn't think it would get back to her? Or maybe you didn't care. 

Are you vain? You just wanted someone to worship you? Well, I've got news for you. She worshipped you. And she still does. You were the one who "hung the moon," her all, her everything. She gave you 100 percent and more. You took all she offered and made her feel bad for not giving you more. You were the "loneliest married man on earth." She was a "bitch of a wife" for wanting you all to herself. I'm sure you're not at all lonely now. 

There were so many good times. So much laughter. You were the best of friends. I wonder what it was that turned you aside after so many strange women. I wonder why you went neighing after so many others' wives, cheap sex in hotel rooms and God-knows-where, with God-knows-who. Did you really offer a woman gas money to meet you in a motel room? You were such a nice guy, really. You were just helping her out. And you just wanted to feel special. You just wanted to talk and hold hands and kiss maybe. Because you were so lonely at home. 

I hope it was worth it. What you did to her will haunt her the rest of her life. I don't think she'll ever be ready for another shot at love, but if she does want to try again some distant day, you will haunt her still. You will crouch in her mind like the devil you are, waiting for the perfect moment to shatter her new reality and bring her back to her old reality. And you'll laugh because she thought she could be free of you someday. 

There may not be a more damaged heart than hers. I pray every day God will heal her and bring her closer to Him with each hollow pang, each doubt, each fear. She deserved much better than what you laid on her, this life sentence. Someone someday will have his hands busy trying to unravel her mysteries, why she's so damaged. He's going to wonder how she got so twisted up inside. He'll wonder how she got such care in her eyes. He'll fumble with her reluctant vulnerability. He'll cry for her. He'll hold her, but he won't be the one she wants holding her. She'll still want you; she'll want you to put those pieces back together and unravel the knots you put deep inside her. She'll want you to smooth out the rough patches you wrought in her brain, diffuse the triggers that set her off. And it should be you. You did this to her; you should fix it. But you won't. You're focused on being happier than her in five years. 

I won't hate you forever. I don't even know you. For all I know, you were the wonderful guy she fell in love with all those years ago, the guy she thought she was trading up for. But, no, you were trading up, and she was entering a world of hurt. She traded security for fear, warm embraces for wondering where you were at all times of the night. She traded her solid upbringing for a tremulous world where children are bargaining chips to keep you from straying. 

You know, you have a daughter who will soon be out among the wolves like you. I hope that thought keeps you up at night.