I remember the day that I was almost murdered at the age of 18. I remember what it felt like sitting in a corner of my bedroom that had been turned upside down by the person that I loved. I remember what it felt like to have my top ripped into pieces. And I remember what it sounded like. I remember looking into his eyes and begging him to stop, but he just wouldn't listen. I remember looking at my top and I remember it being into pieces where it had blood, which was his blood, on my t-shirt. And I remember ...