Unspoken Memoirs - He Did the Unthinkable

The Unthinkable

After the breakup, I was feeling a bit saddened, yet relieved, nonetheless. The countless days of walking on eggshells to appease him were over. But then I received the Facebook message.

It had been several weeks and I was feeling fantastic. No more drunken rampages, no more black eyes or pulled hair. I was free. I was free to do as I pleased without degradation and without the green eyes of jealousy peering over my shoulder. A trip to the beach is just what I needed.

We arrived to the hotel and were getting ready to hit the water. Beer, beach towels and suntan lotion in stow.  Ding...I heard. Ah! A Facebook message! I had received a message from someone I did not know. I opened the message despite the many voices in my head telling me not to do so. "You will be ruined!",  it said. My heart sank as the realization of who was on the other end of the message sank in. Ding! Another message.

My sister must have seen the horror on my face and asked if I was okay. I burst into tears at the horrific image I had received. 

We did have some good days. I tried so hard to please the man I had told myself that I loved unconditionally. Evenings of having a night cap and making love until early hours of the morning did take place on some occasions. 

On one particular evening, I put on the dress he requested: a short little black number accentuating every detail, every curve of my voluptuous frame. I bent down to retrieve some wine out of the refrigerator when he snapped the picture. I giggled when I saw it; bent over ass in the air. I felt happy that night. I knew it wouldn't last but was happy nonetheless.

I handed my sister my phone and she gasped at what she saw. There for the room to see was a picture of me in that black dress bent over getting wine out of the refrigerator. It was a split screen with the 2nd half of the pic being of a different nature. A picture of a shaft and a woman's snatch were proudly displayed on the screen along with my pic! It was horrific! But that was not the worst of it. In big bold letters across the top was my first and last name. The Johnson was of perfection. It was long, sleek, beautiful. This was clearly not his as I have never seen it before. The woman's box on the other hand, was repulsive. It was unlike one I had ever seen resembling a chicken wing. Mine has never nor would it ever resemble a piece of poultry! 

Tears streamed down my face as I thought I had seen the worst. It was not. My sister was quick to point out that it could and would get worse. Underneath the pornographic pic and my full name in small letters it read, "Anyone who likes or shares this pic gets free nudes!" The severity sunk in rather quickly when I further examined the pic and saw 150,000 likes. Where had this image been and how in the world did it get 150,000 likes? I scrambled my brain trying to determine if he did have any risqué pics that could have been saved in his computer. I was safe. There were none. I did not pose for him during our entire relationship, I believe.

I was encouraged to gather my thoughts and head toward the water as we were there for a purpose. We were to celebrate and enjoy the best beach Savannah had to offer. I held back the tears and headed to the beach only to be interrupted by another ding. I tried to use restraint and not look at my phone again, as I knew it would be heinous. I took a deep breath, typed my password and put on my bravest face. The message was a snapshot of the horrid image and my daddy's picture. It was sent to him!

My father is and always will be my Superman. He has protected me, taught me and raised me the best way he knew how. My mother, whom I love, abandoned myself and my two sisters at a very young age. My father was a Christian man and loved and raised us alone until he found a loving wife with whom to share his life. My father, Charles Ingalls.

I could not hold back the flow as I sobbing began. The man who loved me unconditionally would now think of his daughter as a harlot, a woman of ill repute! I could not have been more devastated until I heard another ding. My children. Ding. My step-daughter.

The phone call had to be made. The following day after not getting much sleep and several shots of alcohol, I picked up the phone.  Daddy? I held in my tears as I explained to him what happened. He quickly comforted my by telling me he would not now nor ever open an attachment sent to his phone from my ex. He explained to me that anyone who knows me and who I am would not believe anything coming from the evil man's mouth. He reminded me that I am beautiful and am not defined by the actions of others.

It took me several weeks to get over the pillage of that night. I still am leery, cautious of what I do online, worried that he can reappear to sabotage the life that I am creating for myself. I tread softly, on eggshells at times thus allowing him to be the victor. But he will resurface.