Turns out she'd be angry. I wasn't trying to push her buttons. Apparently I did. I wasn't sure what set her off.
She'd later apologize. She had been afraid. That was reflex. She's been that way since we met. She says it was different before.
Before.
She would never elaborate. It brought back too many bad memories. Talking about it brought her down. We'd then try to change the subject. Lest she went off again.
I learned to tiptoe around it. Try to stay away as far as possible.
I didn't want to admit her anger made her unpleasant. She deserved a better life than the one she got. I didn't want to abandon her. She still needed so much. She'd be even worse off if I left.
I felt guilty thinking about it. I still do.
In the end, I did leave. And she did make a scene. Not the anger I expected, but uncontrollable crying.
I didn't know what to do. I just hurried away. I called her the next day. She started crying again.
I still wanted to be a part of her life. To get her the help she deserved. She rejected me. I became one of those memories she no longer wanted. She wouldn't let me help.
After that, if I tried to contact her, she really would get angry. Cut me short. I worried. Was there anything I could have done? Years passed by. They made me feel worse.