Abuse Dynamics

I swore I'd never be the kind of girl who ran behind her boyfriend, crying.  Where the boyfriend stomps on ahead, brow lowered and thrust forward, lips compressed, dropping the door on the girl as she stumbles along, begging for him to stop and just talk for a moment and she's sorry, even if she doesn't know why, and if he would only give her a chance.  The kind of girl who would sob that she wished he would stop and talk, while at the same time knowing and secretly dreading his dead-stop and one-foot pivot, rounding on her like a bear, pointing his finger or even raising his fist.