Last night I had a dream he referred to her as his "little marionette." I didn't know what to make of this, only that he hadn't changed at all in the year we'd spent apart, in denial of our acquaintance and intimacy. His hair had grown longer to the length I preferred. She wasn't accompanying him, and in her absence he had the audacity to call her his "little marionette."What had occurred over that year after I left him? What had come of his pursuit of her, after publicly embarrassing me in front of her? Did she ever query about my time with him or did he pull her strings in just the right places to silence her?In the moment that I first saw him reclining on my parent's bed to the moment the enunciation of this affectionate nickname escaped his quiet lips my fear of his power and wrath grew tenfold. I verbally attacked him for leaving me long before he knew me; he retaliated with the harsh reality that I pursued knowing others while knowing him-- an even greater violation of his growing affection for me, he said, choking on his words.I couldn't help but feel bad knowing that this body of mine is the same body that had committed so many acts like this before; but before I drew in a shuddered breath to cry, I knew that he felt as powerless as I for never wanting to know me while I was there for him.