Hidden Abuse

December 20, 2007
By Kelsey Donell, Ayer, MA

The second I heard his ringtone, my mind went completely blank. “Why are you calling me?” I screamed into the phone. I heard his familiar voice yell back, “I’m on my way to your house.” Everyone was at school, I was home alone. Slowly, I looked at the screen flashing call ended.
The fresh smell of summer air filled my body and made me shiver. It was about midnight and I found myself sitting on the steps of an old, run down church. Listening to the laughter of my best friend in the distance, I said, “Let’s go lay in the road.” I heard him mumble back, “Your crazy.” Yes, this is the night I fell for the boy whom I never knew would make me miserable for eight months of my life.
It all began when I was told that I wasn’t allowed to hangout with the girls that I’ve been friends with since elementary school. Those girls have always been there for me, and suddenly, I couldn’t be there for them. I just thought, “this relationship is new, he just wants to spend time with me.” Little did I know, I was wrong. It was much more than that.

He wasn’t from around here, so when school started, it was a nice break for me. Somehow, though, he made sure he knew what I did everyday when I wasn’t around. His best friend, who happens to go to school here, would “spy” on me for him. He would call him after school, sometimes during, and tell him everything I’d done wrong that day. His idea of doing wrong was talking to someone he didn’t like, that I happened to be friends with. This would cost me an hour of being yelled at in a tone of voice that still, when I think about it, gives me goose bumps.
My breaking point was the night before I was due to go away on a cruise for Thanksgiving. We were saying goodbye before a week of separation and I felt that his cheek was wet. This was weird, considering I couldn’t wait to board my plane in the morning. Sadly enough, I had to force the tears out so that he would think I would miss him, and so that he wouldn’t get mad and yell at me before I left. Thinking of how pathetic this was was enough to make me cry.
With open bars, our own room, and lots of cute boys, I did something I probably shouldn’t have while I was away. But hey, who doesn’t enjoy a good, random kiss? When I got home, I decided to hide it from him. Something that in reality was so wrong, felt so right.
One day, I was shocked to see him sitting in the parking lot after school. I thought, “he must’ve sat here all day just waiting for 2 o’clock to come around.” Sam and I looked at each other, and I saw she was scared for me. The short ride from the school to my house felt like forever. “Sam, get out of the car.” He said. I couldn’t even look at her. As soon as I heard her door slam shut, I expected a hand across the face, which I thankfully, didn’t get.
This is when I found out he went through my email, changed my Facebook password so I couldn’t get back on, and told me I couldn’t go onto my Myspace until he checked it first.
This started a series of me trying to break up with him. Every time I would come remotely close to saying we should break up, he would tell me he was going to kill himself. He must have threatened it about thirty times, and each time, I took it seriously.
Months of depression went by, and I realized that I didn’t care anymore. I would lie about where I was going, and when he would repeatedly call my phone, I refused to answer. In one night, though, everything changed. Me, Sam, one of Sam’s many flings, and my new love interest, had a little sleepover at our good friend’s house. This turned into a very drunken sleepover, and my new love interest turned into someone that I could not resist. He showed me that there is more to life than being unhappy. He basically saved me.
The day after, something came over me, and enough was enough. I had to do it. And I did. Yes, ignoring the 2 am phone calls, and the Myspace messages was difficult, but looking back, I can see how much stronger I am now. Believe it or not, I received a letter from him a couple a weeks ago from boot camp in Georgia. What he wont see, is one coming back to him.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!