A female painter is forced to confront the wounded memory of a toxic relationship that inflicts both pain and illusion of fondness.

"So I Erased His Face" is a very personal story to tell - about being female, about the complexities of emotions, and about the grey areas in abuse that are simultaneously confusing and pain-inflicting. I've noticed that the current narrative on abuse is mostly from the perspective of a perfect victim; however, I want to push people to explore the uncomfortable grey area that dissects the Stockholm Syndrome in sexual abuse. What if the ultimate wound is confusion?