How can I improve this writing so far?

For the longest time, even at sixteen, the scariest moments were spent in the dark. I would watch as the man I loved forced his way on top of me, holding my arms down, kissing on my neck. I would wait patiently, holding my breath. In the silence, I watched as the scenes of horror unravelled. There was no room to breathe as he suffocated me under his weight. I was dying—dying to breathe again.