Her life was not so different from any other little girl growing up. Or was it? Maybe. Her home was safe from the chaos of the world. Though violence whirled around the era of the late 60s and 70s, her home was nestled in the warmth and sureties of her family.
Then without warning, her daddy was snatched from her life. His last breath was shared in the silence of a cold dark hospital room. Her world changed forever. Still she had the love and care of her family.
Yet, changes were inevitable. Her mother had to go outside the home to work, her siblings left for college. She became a latch-key kid before the term was ever coined. Many transitions seized their lives from that one event in time. Nothing or anyone, but God, could have stopped it.
She grew into a young lady. Confusion along side of her. As to who she was or was not. The intimacy and protection she had once known in the safety of her home dismantled piece by piece. Leaving mere fragments of her soul.
Then came the attention of one particular young man. Gentle in nature. But determined to draw her into his world of hope. He was patient. And his patience paid off. In time, she gave in to his constant and pure affections. Or so they seemed. And perhaps were.
She had loved others. And more so. What then was this? This seductive pull?
She relinquished her affections. She acquiesced. Unrequited love no longer. Without even knowing why. Not much thought was given. Just her life.
All was calm... Before the storm.
What caused the tempest? No one knew. But there was no denying it, as it raged in and out of their lives.
It took them both by surprise. Neither were equipped to unravel its mysteries, or quiet its assault, much less stop the horror it was invading upon their innocence.
You see, his love vanished. Replaced with Violence. Abuse. Control...loss of control. Jealousy. Obsession. Where had they all been so neatly tucked away? Who would have thought? But there was no denying it now.
She was left with despair. There was no where to turn. She didn't even know that she was supposed to turn. Turn to what?
Should she have known? For sure, had she, she would have welcomed it gladly. Instead she was lost. Lost in what was real and what wasn't.
You see, he took. But she gave. Like an open pit, he took more til there was no more. Never being satisfied. Never.
Threats were bigger than life. Overwhelmed by his cunning demands, she acquiesced. Only this time not her love, but her very life. Her mind.
Did she ever try to escape it's deadly hold? But, of course. Many times. Many. And just as many times his pleading to beg her forgiveness sank its ugly sweet fangs into her soul. So she forgave. And he changed. Yes, he changed. For the worst.
The cycle continued. The battle for their souls warred on. Who would win? Years past. But the violence didn't.
He was proud of his feat. Of his ability to play the drama out the way he chose and when. She mindlessly heeded. Yet, the glimmer in her eyes, the hope in her heart, and the belief in something bigger than herself never completely died.
He thought he had her all. He was convinced of that one thing. But then while he was consumed in his own self-destruction, she embraced something as mighty, if not more: That there was an escape. Yet, it seemed nowhere in sight. After all, she had guarded and hid herself from any possible help. Why? She was ashamed. Ashamed that anyone would know that she was not loved.
But WAIT! She remembered! She was loved!!! As she should be.
This revelation was not new. She had forgotten it, that's all. It had been covered up in the murk and mire of his lies and manipulations. Fear had enveloped her life. Her mind. Fear had immobilized her. But where there is no fear, there is no courage.
Then quietly, bravery emerged one dark but bright Sunday morning. She had not planned it. Not orchestrated it. That was the beauty of it. She just knew. Freedom was softly knocking on her heart's door when she least expected it.
But he was not. Free, that is. He was as deep in bondage as ever. While he was sure he had her, Truth was, he had finalized his own death. He had entangled himself in his own web of control. The weavings were strong around his neck. Choking him. Strangling him. Snuffing out his very life. While she was slowly but deeply breathing life in all about her.
His mental drama raged on, fighting for her return. Her return to its destruction. But the battle had been won and without so much as a lift of her finger.
She walked away that day, never, never, never to look back again. She walked out as casually as she had walked in. Yet, this time without a glimmer of confusion.
He continued the fight, with every ounce of evil he had in himself....to draw her back into his world of darkness. But there was no more battle. It had been won. He was in his own war now. And she was no longer in his prison.
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This story depicts my own. A story that ravaged my young life for over 10 precious years. The stats tell us that it usually takes a woman leaving at least six times before the relationship ends. Ends by her leaving for good, but all too often ends because her abuser kills her and in some cases she kills him. I did leave numerous times and returned to yet another promise. That, yes, was broken.
Thankfully, I had great support from my family and that was probably why I survived as well as I did. There were no domestic violent centers then, at least not near me. Little education was available. I was usually told by the police to just go home and let him cool off and everything would be OK. Great advice, huh?
Many times, I have been asked, "How did you get the courage to finally leave and never return?" After all, he had threatened to have my mother killed, and to take my daughter away from me.
My response was, "He was killing me anyway, so I figured I would stand a better chance away from him than with him." I thought if he came and killed me, then at least I would die with a smile on my face. A smile because I had severed his insanity from my life.
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