Living With the Choices We Make (Domestic Violence / Abuse) ✔️

12 - Weekend Away

12 - Weekend Away  

Over the next weeks, there was calmness. I tried hard to show my support and not make Brent angry, keeping the house spotless and tidy the way he liked it. He was patient, showing me the way he wanted me to keep things including how to fold the shirts and underwear, joking it was one of the few useful things his father taught him who used to be in the military before joining the FBI. Once, I accidentally mixed up his color coordination in the closet and feared he would lash out but he was in an exceptionally good mood that day and only scolded me lightly while getting things back to the way they were supposed to be.

Some of those days, he opened up to me, crying in my arms for hours while telling me gruesome tales about his childhood where his father had even beaten his mother sometimes with the poker from the fireplace though the belt had always been his favorite weapon. Brent had hidden in the closet for many years while they were fighting, covering his ears to block out his mother's screams. When he was older, his father had made him watch to teach him what would happen if he continued to mouth off. Brent admitted that he had wetted his bed and sucked his thumb until he was well into his early teens, feeling lonely and scared.

Those were the times that motivated me to continue, firmly believing I could fix him. I didn't realize that this would have required many years of serious professional help, convinced if I loved him enough and helped him through this, he would become the man I wanted him to be. I felt so sorry for him and justified that his beating was only related to his trauma – he had just been unable to control himself and it was as much my fault as his for provoking him with my messiness. I wanted us to work through this and not lose him under any circumstances.

We settled into a new routine. Every day after school, I would come home and clean for several hours before going to the grocery store and fixing dinner. I made sure I was done well in advance of Brent arriving home to get everything back into order. He was pleased, complimenting my cooking and how well I was coping with my housework. It was still early in the school year with little homework and I had no problems keeping up. I had always been a good student and was flying.

He managed his course load and things were looking promising in his criminal case. There had been a series of murders in the Chicago area and other violent crimes were on the rise and the cops had better things to do than harassing a statutory rapist. Still, we laid low and didn't have sex which really didn't matter to Brent since I was on my period anyhow and according to him, in a constant state of 'dirtiness'. He showed me different ways of pleasing him, some of them very revolting and when I gagged and almost threw up during one of the affairs, he at least didn't expect me to continue with all of them. Besides kissing, I wasn't touched.

At the end of September, Brent surprised me with a weekend at an exclusive spa resort in Geneva in celebration of our first anniversary. He had booked the full package, massage, manicure, pedicure, facial – you name it. I felt like a princess when we arrived and were shown to one of their best suites. I was really looking forward to a few days off, not having to do anything but being pampered.

Brent was back to being most charming, fulfilling every wish I had. He sneaked in after the masseuse finished with me while I was relaxing, listening to some mood music.

"Can I get you anything?" he whispered, starting to cover my shoulders with featherlike kisses. "Tea, juice."

"I'm fine," I mumbled. "You can stay if you want."

"Oh, I am intending to," he grinned.

I took a deep sigh and just enjoyed the silence when all of a sudden, his warm hands glided over my back. I moaned by the gentleness of his touch.