He was a wolf in a sheep's suit.
We were together for a year and a half. He was the man I thought I'd marry. He loved me so much, and I thought he could do no wrong. I'm not here to bash him. I'll admit I miss the good times, but with the good came the bad. He was sweet and loving until he had convinced me to leave my parents right after turning eighteen. He and I had been together four months and I agreed to leave with him and move to our own little house. I thought we'd be so happy, sadly I was wrong.
It all started with verbal abuse. He would make fun of me or call me names. I thought I could live with that. He then began to make statements like "I just want to beat the hell out of you." I'll admit it scared me a bit, seeing as I'm 4'9" and 110lbs, and he was 6'4" and 145lbs. I let it slide and kept quiet.
Then one day I was helping clean at the house, and he shoved me into a wall by my throat unprovoked. He said he was sorry and even cried. As any woman in love and denial would do, I let it slide.
He then quit his job, and, left with only my small income, we decided to move in with his mother who was an alcoholic. She was nice when sober, but when drunk, even she would hurt me. That's when things took a turn for the worst. He beat me everyday for a year. When I tried to leave, he burn't my shoes, glasses, ID, and clothing, leaving me with nothing but two pairs of pants and three shirts. I was scared to try again.
He then started selling my things to pay for his drugs. I would keep my mouth shut unless spoke to. My mom tried to get me to leave because she knew. No matter how many times I denied it, she knew. I would be black and blue from head to toe. At one point I was so sick from what doctors believe to have been arsenic poisoning that may hair had fell almost completely out, and I would go days upon days without eating or even getting out of bed. My body had quit and my spirit was broken.
The day I left had to have been the worst. I looked him in the eye and knew he planned to kill me. We had been up since early and at 11:00 p.m. I wanted to sleep. I tried to move his alcohol bottle off the bed. He told me that it wasn't mine and to put it down. I said okay and went to sit it down. He then slammed me against the metal bunk bed frame and the bottle broke. He then screamed vile things at me and proceeded to slam me into things. He got my head against the fish tank and started beating me into it. I'll never forget the look on his face of satisfaction as he beat me to death. He wanted me to die, and I wasn't ready for that, so for once in our entire relationship I fought back and won. His stepdad saved my life that night. He heard me scream and came and pulled him from the room and gave me a phone to call my parents. They came to get me, and I cried the entire way home. They held me and loved me. It was hard to feel that love. It was overwhelming. I started getting tired, and I wanted to go back, but I instead fell asleep in my dad's arms begging them to take me back and crying.
The next morning I woke up alone on a couch and realized I had done it. I had left. I made it! The joy I felt was amazing. I ate and sang and danced in the kitchen. Do you know why because I could!!! No one there would be mad! I smiled I laughed, and, yes, I still cried but not alone in a corner. No, I cried with my mom and dad. They held me and supported me! They are the reason I'm alive.
And no, one night didn't make everything better. Life still sucks every now and again, but here I am two years later engaged to a man who loves me and my PTSD with a beautiful daughter who can smile and make my heart melt. Yes, everyday is a struggle and a work in progress, but I can finally say I'm happy. I chose to survive. It was by far the best choice I've ever made!!! I hope this gives someone courage or hope or whatever it is you need right now. He doesn't love you so baby you need to love yourself enough to walk away!!!