Treat you as you treat me

I talk slowly compared to most aussies. Aussies find that difficult, and try to finish my sentences. When Ob would start being insulting, searching for the most hurtful things she could say, I would try to choose my words carefully; trying to find a way to return to the issue or topic. -- She would finish my sentences with things I'd never even imagine.

A couple of times, in an attempt to bring some reason to the tirade of insults and sarcasm, -- before I understood more about the pathology of abuse -- I turned to Ob and said, "What should I do if you become ill, Ob? -- Treat you as you treat me?"
A rare moment stopped her. A strange look would cross her face, her mouth gaped half-open. I thought I saw for a moment, she realized everything she was doing: brutal insults, sarcasm, the denigrating isolation, deciet and her dark secrecies streamed across her face to painted a dozen half-expressions.
Who knows?

I think for a moment she felt her greatest fear: That someone really would treat her as she was treating me.
If she had known me, she would never have had that fear. I could never treat anyone like that, even for revenge. I've often wondered how she could have lived with me for over 4 years and understood so little about me. But Ob was one who believed and lived by the "tit for tat"; I suppose she had to assume that I would act as she did.

I'm sure she was aware of what she was doing. If nothing else, I tried when the moment seemed right to spell out what she was doing, and how it made me feel. My hope was that she would become aware and stop.

The last expression was one of eye-widening terror, then a return to rage. In an instant, next came a sarcastic change of topic, and the tirade continued until soon she left the house or I returned to my room.