My N was a director and playwright. The last thing he called me was a "whore" before my brutal devalue and discard.
Each year he hosts a theatre festival of short plays. Under a psuedonym, I submitted a comedic piece about three people attending the funeral wake of a recently deceased friend.
One of the characters unleashes a torrent about what a calculating, manipulative, vindictive, lying sociopath the deceased actually was.
The play ended with another character calling the deceased a "whore" under her breath. Not only did my N accept my play into the festival, I was able to attend opening night with two other victims of his abuse.
The N didn't have a clue who wrote the piece, and judging by his laughter, seemed to enjoy it very much. The pen is truly mightier than the sword.