Writings

Forever?

Forever is infinity. It's never-ending, never breaking. Forever was what I had with him. Or so I thought.

Everything in the beginning was perfect. From date nights to concerts to nightly drives blasting music, everything was perfect. He was perfect.

We got married within three months of knowing each other. A whirlwind romance, as his grandma called it. Maybe I had been foolish, blindsided by beautiful eyes and a great personality.

He had that smile that could charm anyone, a laugh that could make anyone laugh. But all that was a facade.

Five months into our relationship, he began to show his true self. Gone was the charming young man, replaced by a bitter and sometimes erratic man that I was afraid of.

I remained in the relationship, though, in hopes it would get better and he would change. We had our good days and our bad days, little fights here and there, but I hadn't experienced the worst of him.

August 2nd was the worst day. That day was our five year anniversary of our marriage and I got our apartment ready. I dressed nice, I picked out a movie that sounded good, I even picked up his favorite take out Chinese food.

It was all for nothing. He came home angry, murmuring about his dimwitted boss at the office. I could tell the night wasn't going to be the way I wanted it too.

I tried to lighten the mood by suggesting we eat dinner and watch the movie I rented. We began to fight.

And, oh, if I hadn't of raised my voice... if I hadn't of flinched when he raised his hand to slap me... if I hadn't of told him that I had found a job working at the bakery downtown.

He had made it clear early into our marriage that I was to be a stay at home wife, and in the future, would homeschool our children. He made sure that I didn't talk to other men, to give them any idea that I was interested. He wouldn't let me leave the apartment with makeup on. He called it "appealing to the naked eye."

I was a pawn in his little game of controlling my life. What I did, what I ate. How I greeted family and friends (I wasn't allowed any male friends either) was also controlled.

My mom wasn't allowed to help me with putting away groceries or cleaning dishes. I had to be an independent housewife.

My face stung from the slap. Of course, I had been slapped numerous times by him. I had been mocked and ridiculed by the man who was supposed to love me, who was supposed to protect me.

He laughed and said, "Y'know, you are a real sissy. Crying over a slap?"

The tears trickled down my face as I cradled my belly. I had intended on telling him that he was to be a father. But my child didn't deserve to live like this, in terror of the man who created him or her.

"Please, please stop. I can get your dinner ready if only you would sit down."

Something dark crossed his eyes and by the time I could register what was happening, my vision was darkening. His hands were around my throat.

The police came in the early morning hours of August 3rd. Handcuffs clicked around his wrists as they dragged him away from the apartment and to the blue and red lights that adorned the cop cars. A trail of sirens were heard as they escorted him down to the station.

My mom came to the apartment and she helped me pack what little I had.

"We need to find you a DV shelter," she said.

It was words of encouragement, words of "hey, I can do this. I've won the battle!" But I was in a puddle of tears.

My throat was bruised, my lip was busted. The baby inside me fluttering around gave me hope. There would be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Now, on June twentieth, as I snuggle into the warmth of my newborn baby daughter, I promise to her that I will never let her down in life, never let her feel the pain I've felt.

People shouldn't be given the permission to be controlling or destructive. It only leads to heartbreak beyond physical pain in the end.

The sun is rising now. People will be getting up soon to head over to the mess hall for breakfast. The shelter is nice. I go to therapy group, my daughter attends the daycare here.

I can finally see hope, a light, a beacon of goodness. And I'm not alone in this. There are good people out in the world. You just need to know where to look.