<< FIRST PART
I thought after what happened, things would be better. But it didn’t. It made him worse. My attempt of leaving him and this world became his ticket to verbally abuse me even more. He would always say the most hurtful things that will leave me feeling helpless, fearful and weak. Many times he would say that nobody will accept me anymore. Nobody will take me in. And if I tell others about his behavior, nobody will believe me anyway. I am a useless dumb idiot, a worthless pig who deserves what I get, and I should be harassed, used, and fooled by other men. I asked him several times what I did to him to make him abhor me that much. But it was like speaking to a wall. He echoes back my words and mimics my voice with ridicule. He often threaten that he might just give me away to one of his abusive friends. But, even he will not take me. He said these so many times that I came to believe him. That it became who I am. It became my reality.
For countless nights, I cried myself to sleep and whenever he hears me, he hits me even more while calling me names. Strangely enough, most often than not, he will be a totally different person the next day. Sweet and soft-toned. It’s like last night didn’t happen. It was like a recurring dream but only, this was real life. With a spin of our favorite Billie Holiday record, he will even offer a dance. Often times, I feel relieved. I felt that he still cared for me, making me believe that it was my fault but he forgives me. But then adds that I should be grateful. He is the only one who can put up with me. This became a seemingly endless cycle. It was not a dream, but a nightmare. I was tired, and sick of it all! And the worst part is, I was trapped.
He was a frustrated artist. His job is totally not into arts but he claims to not hate his job because of the pay. He used to paint and draw a lot and that was one of the things I admired with him before all these came about. Before he landed on that prestigious job, he used to make me his muse. I pose for him in paintings and photos. One time, he made me pose nude sitting on the floor, head slightly bent, hair on my face. With legs crossed to my torso and my arms around them, he chained my wrists and feet and took several shots. I was shocked, as this was all new to me, but during that time I found it artistic. Little did I know that it would be a reflection of what he will do and how he would treat me. As days turned to months, things gradually changed. I began to see the real him but I was blinded by what I knew then was love. He turned out to be a vicious dragon in sheep's skin and I denied it to myself until it was too late to escape.
To top it all off, he was also totally paranoid. I was not allowed to go out on my own. I was not allowed to see my friends. I can only see my family if he comes along, but he was never fond of my family and called them names behind their backs, so this rarely even happens. I can’t talk to my friends or anyone over the phone for more than a few minutes. And he has to listen to everything. I was an imprisoned personal assistant, and I prepared everything for him.
I do all the household chores, while he just waits for food to be brought to him. Sometimes he even makes me swallow a spoonful first before he dares touch the food. And there was something about him and dinner tables. He hated eating on one especially when there are family gatherings, or even if it was just the two of us. He prefers to eat in the living room or the bedroom. I arrange his clothes on the bed before going to work. From his undies to his socks, down to his shoes and comb. All arranged and folded neatly, and should be ready right after his shower. If not, I get another round of name calling or even a punch or a kick. On lucky days, I receive all three. His argument is that he was the bread winner and all I have to do was "to serve him". Yes, his exact words.
I tried to leave him but I got nowhere else to go. I knew if I go back to my family, they will just get mad at me and send me right back to him. One night while he was drunk asleep, I escaped. With only a hoodie with me, I wasn't able to bring anything else in fear that he might wake up anytime soon. I walked, and walked for hours. I didn’t know where to go, I just needed to go. This was when my third attempt took place.
I didn’t care anymore how I’m going to die I just wanted to disappear right then and there. My mind was numb and blank and I just aimlessly walked. The hood of my jacket partially covered my eyes. With my head bent down, I could only see the pavement and lights passing by from both my sides. I was ready to get hit and run over. But I only got beeps and honks. I finally reached a park and laid on the grass slightly sloping down. I looked at the sky and it was cloudless. Millions of stars looking down at me, giving light to my pitch black night. My mind wasn't racing with thoughts anymore and the voices were gone. I just stared back at the stars, amazed at their sheer number and distance, until I fell asleep under them.
I woke up and realized where I was. I was disappointed... because I was still alive. I sat up and looked at the sunken wide open space in front of me. The sun was already up. A football team was warming-up by the distance. Kids were running under the trees, stumbling, laughing. One by one people started passing by the dirt road a few meters above my head. I didn’t care that people saw me or if they were laughing at me or not. I just got up, left, and walked to my aunt’s house a few minutes away.
When I arrived at her house, I made a lame excuse why I was there. She was a bit taken aback but let me in. And as I feared, they called him and in a few hours, he arrived and picked me up. He was all smiles when he went in the living room. They thought everything was fine. I wasn't able to protest or speak a word, as he was intently staring at me. I knew right then that I was back in hell.
Those years with him were the darkest and lowest point in my life. I was at rock bottom and I never thought I would ever be free. One time, our mobile phone beeped. There was a message. We only have one phone so he can monitor all my messages and calls. So I casually got the phone to see who it was but he jumped to me and tried to grab it away. I had a feeling that I should not give it to him so I ran outside the bedroom towards the bathroom next to the kitchen.
He ran after me and yelled to give him back the phone. I refused and tried to close the door on him but he was strong and fast. With no way out, I ducked down at the corner of the bathroom and he forced me to give it to him by punching me at my back and kicking me on my hips. I just had a surgery less than 3 months prior to that day so I screamed in pain. He was fully aware that cysts were removed from both my ovaries and I cried for him to stop but he didn’t care. He just continued kicking me and yelling at me.
He didn’t know that my parents were in the kitchen with our son and they heard the commotion. My dad slammed the bathroom door and he stopped. They yelled at each other. I couldn't remember their words. My sight and my hearing became all blurry that I almost fainted. Then, my parents sent him out. He immediately left the house with no apologies whatsoever. It was the first time my parents finally caught him in the act. And it was the last time we were together in one roof. I finally got out. It was March the 7th.
And whether it was coincidence or fate, the next day was women’s day. It was also the first day my family saw me smile and laugh again in a very long time. I will never forget that day. I swore to myself that I will not be among the statistics of women who took 10 years before they complained and told others of their ordeal. I will no longer allow and let my son grow up to be either afraid of people because of how I was treated, or grow up being spiteful of me, or worse, angry at the world, just like his father. I will not let him grow up in a house full of hate. I will shower him with love, affection and support. I will give him what I grew up searching for, which made me end up looking at the wrong places. I will not let that happen to him. I will not let my life end there. Not anymore.
After all these years, I have finally broken the silence...
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photo credit: scotland lochlomond chain by Neil Crawford
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i love to chat and read about your own twisted thoughts. c'mon dont be scared to share them! i won't bite. in fact, if you have a blog or site, i'll surely visit and comment back. ★