The moment my girlfriend uttered the endearment "beautiful flower," I crumpled to the floor, paralyzed by the haunting echoes of a traumatic memory.

As the vivid, horrible images surged through my mind, I couldn't contain the scream that tore through my throat. Trembling uncontrollably, I clutched at my hair in a desperate attempt to anchor myself in the present.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed, slapping her hands away. My eyes red, stained from unshed tears.