“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I shrieked, then I returned to sobbing and continued to be frail.
I thought he loves me, but he hit me, threatened to kill me. How could he love me and still do and say these things? It’s illogical.
I was immobile for so long. I was trapped in the house and isolated. I wasn’t permitted to leave the house. There were “security” systems in place that would send him an alert when I opened any of the windows and doors that led outside. All exits were locked. If it was during the summer’s heat, the ceiling fans would stop and the refrigerator wouldn’t open, so the “intruder” would be dead by the time he came home. We never have visitors; not on weekends, holidays, and other celebrations.
After I got out and thought I felt safe to share my experience, I was shunned by some who had never been a victim of domestic violence for my stupidity at not leaving and not looking back at the onset of an attack. “You’re so smart and yet, you’re so stupid.”
(Being smart is a skill; being compassionate and empathetic requires a different skill set.)
It’s so hard and frightening to run away. He had all the money, friends, a different face when he exited the house. Where was I going to go? Who was I going to turn to? I wasn’t entirely sure where I was.
Most people turn to religion – which was what saved them or helped them endure until they escaped or were rescued. I don’t have any religion to look to, nor do I desire such a thing. If these religious forces and honest faiths were so powerful, the rescue should have come at right away, not wait 30 years before I bludgeoned the piece of poop, ran to the convenience store, and called the police. By the way, I got in trouble for killing the perpetrator who abused me. There was no record of me anywhere on his social media outlets, no mention of me to anyone he knew, neighbors didn’t see or hear me (because we lived so far apart and I couldn’t go outside). It was the disgusting dead body and people in the community against my claims.
I’ve become very logical and robotic because of him. I had no feelings and no feelings could penetrate me. I’m out all the time at my local coffee shops, book stores, libraries, rec centers, food banks, the list goes on. I made a very quick move (since I brought almost nothing with me) to a suburb where the most dangerous thing is gossip. I’m trying very hard to soften the leaf after I turned it. I recently took the initiative to call a person I like, but he hasn’t responded. It makes me very insecure but I have to remind myself that he’s very busy and he doesn’t check his phone more than once a day (it appears to be when he needs to use it – rare – and probably after he charges the dead battery – finds out he needs to power when he needs to use it).