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I knew what Carlos Luna did to me the second it happened, the afternoon of March 1, 2015. The second I said "no," and then said it again, and was ignored – undermined and exhausted as I was, I still knew what *that* was called. I knew he was cheating on me and had been for some time. For well over a year he had been coming into my life and leaving again as he pleased, at first just for a week, then six, then a few months, devastating me more each time before slowly creeping back into my life. I loved him irrationally, with a fierceness that was destroying me. He knew better than anyone how to rationalize his behavior, and explain, and apologize, and deny, deftly playing my fear of rejection and hunger for approval and my empath heart's bottomless well of compassionate patience like I was a game of chess.

All the same, I didn't trust him anymore and decided I no longer wanted him to touch me. When I said no, he played it off like I was being coy. When I said no again,…

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