The clock ticks, every second wasted means another slap across the face. I zoom past a red light and ignore a stop sign. My heart hammers across my chest threatening to burst out of my body and end my life right then and there. I honestly wouldn’t have minded. I’m a couple minutes late. He will be unhappy. He will be mad! Erik has specifically told me to be home at ten, and now it is 10:07 pm.
I quietly open the back door hoping he won’t notice me enter, though I have no hope of that happening, since he’s caught me the last seven times. The door click shuts and the house is quiet and dark. Hope rises within me. BAM!! I suddenly feel a pain in my upper face, flames licking at my cheek and throughout my entire body. Anger bubbles inside of me threatening to plunge out and defend myself at the man I call fiancé. I cry out in pain as he hits me again, and again, and again. Throughout the pain and the tears I suddenly think, what would mom think of this? How would she feel? She’d say that I was better than this; better than a worthless dog, being kicked around by its master. As if he owned me I think bitterly. A few hours later while treating to my wounds he comes over and apologizes, wrapping his strong arms around me. His pleading, innocent eyes would always convince me to forgive him. His shocked voice full of hurt and regret, reassuring me that he would never do it again, but this was the eighth time, and I was done.
This wasn’t what I had imagined for myself. Getting beaten by the man I supposedly loved wasn’t my fairytale life. But that’s it, that’s what pains me the most. Not the pain after the beatings, but the fact that I do love him, and that I’m going to have to let him go.
14 months later.
I find myself walking along the beach holding a stranger’s hand. He’s not a stranger though, and instead I find myself looking into the eyes of the man who had helped me work through the pain and the suffering. The man who had helped me overcome my fears of letting go. The man I can now call my husband.
I can seriously say that I’m happy now. With a man that loves me, and no matter how angry we get with each other he doesn’t even dare threaten to punch me. He protects me from the smallest of things, and makes me smile when I’m depressed because I’ve been thinking about the past too much. He gives me the gift of feeling comfortable in my own skin. I honestly couldn’t ask for anything else.
I don’t know how I could have put up with the abuse for that long. That sick feeling of being worthless, and of not being good enough for him. I think that’s why I stayed, because of all the girls he could have had, he had chosen me, and I thought I knew that any girl would take my place in a heartbeat, so I had to take advantage of the chance of being with him. But I was wrong, and in finding true happiness within me I can now see how unhappy I was back then. It had taken time to rebuild the confidence that he had beaten out of me, but now that I have it back I’ll never let it go. I squeeze my husband’s hand and stare out into the future, looking out into the endless possibilities waiting out there for me. And I know that I’ll share my journey and help find other girls lost in the sea of darkness and pain.