Continued from Part 1
If you or someone you know is a Victim of Domestic Violence call 1-800-799-7233 or visit the National Domestic Violence Hotline website where they have a chat function.
The Build Up to September
I was in the midst of what I now realize was a mental breakdown caused by emotional abuse I had been receiving for years from my ex-husband, combined with my ex-boyfriend’s manipulative mind games that I was too blinded by love to see.The constant mental abuse made me crazy. “As in put your 2 kids in a car and go bang on your boyfriend’s door in the middle of the night” crazy. He proclaimed out of nowhere that night, I was needy because I text him throughout work days and he needed a break. He hung up the phone and blocked me. I went crazy, not realizing it was a mental mind fucking game and he was the the Gamemaster. I was devastated. After hours of laying in bed, overthinking, I decided that the best thing to do was to beg for him back, I took my two sleeping children, put them in the car at 4 am and drove 19 miles to beg for him back. His friend spending the night answers the door and tells me to go home or CPS was going to take my kids. I leave, it didn’t hit me till hours later what I had done. Still to this day, I am ashamed that I put my children in that position.
Getting Back Together
I don’t remember when but at some point emails were exchanged; he asked to meet at a bar that Friday to discuss what had happened and the future of our relationship. He was 2 hours late, if on purpose or not, I do not know, but at that point I was nice and drunk and desperate to have him back. I don’t remember what all we talked about, I just nodded my head in agreement, telling him I was completely in the wrong, that he had done nothing wrong, and I begged for him to be with me. He agreed and we went back to his place. That would be the last night I would sleepy peacefully, not knowing the next night would be the first time I became a victim of domestic violence.
I went home the next afternoon, he was going to a friend’s house that evening to play poker. He asked if I wanted to pick him up after and hang out, I said sure. The problem was I had Ubered to the bar the night before so my car was 19 miles away. Conveniently, his roommate’s car was there because he was living in NYC for a work assignment. He told me I could borrow the car to go home, then pick him up from the poker game that night then the following day he would drive me home.
Thanks I went home so happy that I had my boyfriend back. I get an email (because he had blocked me and still refused to unblock me) at 10:30 with an address and to come pick him up. We then made the drive to his place. The next few hours are partly a blur and partly so vivid I feel like I’m reliving it.
The Night
He was messed up, I knew he was, he always was at night, so it wasn’t a surprise. He pours us each a glass of red wine. I take a sip and say I’m not really in the mood since I was still hungover from the night before; I take the glass with me anyway.
We sit down on the couch in the living room, we were cuddled up, he then starts questioning me about my past sex life. I hadn’t quite told him the truth about an incident but I didn’t flat out lie. We had only been dating 1-2 months when I had lied by omission. Why would he even bring it up 2 months after the discussion?
It escalates into an argument, I’m begging for him to calm down. He starts screaming at me to get out of the house. He opens the front door. I am yelling to just let me get my purse from downstairs, that it had my phone, keys, and wallet in it. Since I had driven his roommate’s car, I needed an Uber and there would be no way to get into my house without my key. He says no and starts smashing me between the door and the frame. I start screaming for help. He lived in a townhouse, the neighbors were within earshot so he grabs me by my hair and pulls me in.
I’m begging him to stop, he takes me by my hair and slammed the side of my head into the coffee table. That’s when it gets blurry. I most likely had a concussion because I am not sure what exactly happened next; but, I can vividly see in my head the surroundings swirling around as I stood up, confused, then it gets blurry again. I can’t recall where he was. The next thing I remember is running downstairs to his room to grab my purse. I’m not sure if he was down there or ran after me, I just remember grabbing my purse, then once again my body being slammed in his bedroom door. I was begging him to stop that I just wanted to call an Uber to go home and I needed my keys and phone in order to do that.
I got desperate, but not for my safety, for his love. I wasn’t dizzy anymore, I start begging him to stop, that we could forget all of this had happened, that he loved me and I loved him and we were meant to be, we were soulmates, I start hugging him, pushing my body onto him and try to kiss him, for a second I think it’s working, that he will stop and we can forget about it and go back to the happy loving couple we told ourselves we were.
He turns his head to the side grabs my arms and throws me to the ground along with my purse and all of its contents. I put them back in the purse as he grabs me by my hair and starts dragging me across the stone floor stomach down which caused cuts and scrapes on the top of my feet.
He allows me stand, then starts pushing up the stairs and yelling to get out of the house. I’m begging him to stop, he loves me, he wants me, not to do this to us, stop ruining us, I won’t call the cops. He tells me he knows I won’t call the cops bc I did this to myself, I wouldn’t leave so he had to forcibly remove me and he pushes me out the front door. Which he then proceeds to do to me. I believed him, my god if only I had left when he first asked me to none of this would have happened. This was my fault. I needed him back. I loved him. We were great for each other. We made each other better people. I couldn’t leave.
Kicked Out
Why wouldn’t he let me stay? I banged on the door, calling him, begging for him to let me back in. He wouldn’t. I get desperate. I’m in and out of reality thinking one moment, “holy shit call the police” and the next “he is the best man that will ever love me.”
By around 3:30 am, I call his brother, he doesn’t answer, I call his brother’s girlfriend, she answers saying they are in Hawaii is everything ok? I’m sobbing. I’m not sobbing because I’m hurt and I’m pain nor am I upset about what had happened, I’m sobbing because I had just ruined the relationship with the love of my life.
She begged me to get out of there for my safety, once she realized I only cared about my future with him she tells me, “Just because this happened doesn’t mean y’all can’t work it out and get married.” Wether she told me that to get me to calm down or because she truly believed it I’m not sure, I would say it’s a mixture of both. I calm down a little. At this point, his brother takes the phone and tells me to get the hell out of there, that he has seen his brother in these rage states and there is nothing I can do but to get out, it’s best for him and me to leave and he is sure that he will call tomorrow and work everything out. I agree to leave.
I sat there in a state of shock for 30 min. Not because I had the shit beaten out of me but because I had lost my boyfriend, the love of my life, the man that was my knight in shining armor, my saving grace. I was once again lost and single. I didn’t care about being beaten, he loved me, plus this had never happened before, it was because he was drunk, I kept on saying this isn’t him, he had to have taken something. Later on he admitted he had taken Klonipin along with probably 12 drinks, wether it was that or something else or alcohol alone, I will never know.
Home
It finally hit when I looked down at my feet covered in blood and bruises from being dragged and smashed in doors, that I had been beaten. I call an Uber. An African American gentleman a few years older than myself in a black Escalade pulls up, I climb in. He looks in the review mirror and sees I’ve been crying. He turns down his music and asks if I’m ok. No, I said, my boyfriend had beaten me and I didn’t know what to do. I continued on about how I loved him and was confused on why he wouldn’t let me back into the house. I asked him if he would go talk to him, the driver of course refused saying he would go to jail himself if he saw my boyfriend. He begged me to let him call the police. I started freaking out, wanting to get out of the car, so he agreed not to and pulled away from the house.
On the drive to my house, he told me about how his father used to beat his mother. How his wife’s first husband had beaten her. Right before he drops me off I told him this was different, this was the only time, that he was fucked up, that I was to blame bc I wouldn’t leave. He tells me,
“Oh baby girl that man doesn’t love you, that man doesn’t know what love is or how to love. You’re a beautiful intelligent young woman, he doesn’t deserve you, you are better than that. Forgive him in your heart and that’s for yourself but please, whatever you do, do not have any contact with him ever again.”
I nod my head agreeing, but “knowing” without a doubt my situation was different, he didn’t know my boyfriend, this was a one time thing, it would never happen again.
I went inside and laid in my bed stared at the ceiling thinking about nothing one minute then everything a minute later. Two hours passed, I went into the restroom, took my clothes off, to survey the damage that had been done to my body. My ear bruised from being smashed into the coffee table. “Rug burns” and cuts from being dragged on the ground. Bruises all up and down my arms and legs. One that later would later get darker and you could make out that it was fingers from grabbing me. I stared at myself and thought what in the hell do I do next.
To Be Continued…
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