'Bending to his will.'

He placed his fingers under her chin, forcing her look at him.
"I want to be with you for a long time, you know that right?" The words were sweet but Lisa felt it was more of an order than a statement of affection.
"You are mine." Ricky's hands now clasped Lisa's arms, which were still tender under the newly forming bruises. Lisa's wrist was still tinging with pain, and images of what he had done to her less than sixty minutes before kept flashing through her mind. 
"I love you." Ricky kissed Lisa, coldly and possessively. "I don't think you should see that guy from work anymore, don't you?" 

Lisa nodded solemnly and, in that moment, she felt weak and pathetic. Bending to his will; sacrificing everything thing she had and wanted, piece after piece of her soul broken, chipped and sanded off, everyday just a little bit more. A friend from work she'd only known a few weeks wasn't that big a deal. She'd given up worse. She could only really blame herself, she knew that her getting close to another man, even if it was completely platonic, would make Ricky angry. She'd done it anyway, made friends and brought it on herself. 

But people made friends all the time, even with the opposite gender and while in relationships, and those people weren't currently nursing a sprained wrist. Those people could go out with their (female) friends and not come home to suspicion and accusations. Those people could choose to change their hair cut without having it almost ripped it out when they got home. But if she did something she knew would lead to Ricky getting angry, wasn't his reaction kind of her fault?