It didn’t hurt this time, and that surprised me.  He’s long gone, I used to hate him, but now I just feel a small, nagging sense of dislike.  He put me through Hell and back, but I’m better now and my life is amazing.  

It did get me thinking.  There is only one way he could hurt me again, and that would be if he moved here.  I could walk down the road minding my own business and find he had enrolled at one of the universities.  I’d feel that same restriction I felt before, the fear of going out, the fear of possibly seeing him, or worse still, him seeing me when I wasn’t prepared.  He could take me to Hell all over again if he wanted.  But here’s the thing… I don’t think I care anymore.  I don’t think he’d even recognise me after how happy I’ve become without him.

And that doesn’t hurt at all.