The text bubbles appeared and disappeared, signifying that she was writing and erasing multiple times. Eventually, she responded. "I'm trying to figure that out."
Poppy hesitated on the side of the road. Her head was resting on the top of the steering wheel, and she straightened up to look at the ceiling. Finally, she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt and looked at her arm, and at the bruises that curled up her arm. This wasn't right. This wasn't right... right? She replied several minutes later. "Yeah. He did."
"I don't really know what to do," she replied. "I've tried talking to him about it, and he always apologizes. But it always happens again."