It's been 15 years. We were teenagers. The first time was three months into our relationship. I was only 17 years old and did not know how to react to the abuse or who to tell. My partner choked me because I wanted my keys back.
Then as time goes by the violence progress from a slap here to a choke, a face push, etc. After about ten years of this, the abuse got worse, far worse. When I was pregnant with my now one-year-old. My abusive partner would slap and choke me almost daily. He kicked me I'm my face a few times. My paramour tried to drag me off the bed and slammed my head into walls. But he let me go.
Back two years to one that stands out, particularly Christmas day 2014. Getting ready to go to his family's house. My partner three pieces slapped me and poured water on my head as I lay there trying to compose myself. I get up to go downstairs, and he proceeds to grab me from behind by a towel around my neck, choking me, picking me up off the ground by the cloth, and then throwing me and stomping me. Similar times to come but back to being pregnant. The abuse happened daily.
After I had the baby via C-section, I had gotten out about one week before it started again. So many times I almost dropped the baby when he would hit me or try to choke me with the baby in my arms. My abuser tells he will kill me if I call the police, or if they come or we will leave to hide forever. When you face fear, it's hard to escape. I don't dare to call his bluff and see if it happens. I DO NOT WANT TO DIE. I DONT WANT MY KIDS TO BE WITHOUT ME.
He tells our oldest child he is not his father because my oldest is like me, so he favors the baby. My son sees and knows what's going on. I cannot stop it. I'm scared to take the next step, but I'm afraid I'm going to die. Just four days ago we had a six-hour war. I exchanged numbers with a female co-worker. I couldn't give my partner the word for word conversation I had with my co-worker on the number exchange. He picked me up by my throat threw me on the ground and picked me up the back of the hair and threw me again on my neck on the couch. We proceeded to argue as I begged him to stop. He called my oldest to watch. Horror covered my baby's face, as my abuser picked me up again by my throat and slammed me to the floor. My perpetrator tried to drag me outside and threw me up against an apartment wall, crushing my elbow leaving no skin left on my elbow. I banged on the neighbor's door, but they never opened. My one chance and no one came. He dragged me back inside and slammed me on the floor. He told me my son I was about to die and how dare I try and get help. Help will get me dead he says. He continued for hours. Choked and slammed, choked and slammed. He picked up my baby's toddler riding toy and hit me in my back, leaving bruises.
For three days I couldn't turn my head or eat solid foods. I still have crazy pain when I turn right, and it still hurts to swallow, but I'm managing. I'm ready to disappear. I don't want my kids to think its OK, but the fear is genuine. An abusive home is not what my kids deserve. I am secluded 20 hours away from any friends or family with only him and his family. I don't have money or transportation to leave. When we get into it, he takes my phone and won't let me go with my kids. I'll never leave my kids. I love my kids. I love myself, but the fear will eat you up.
Hopefully, my next story will be how I got away and not in an obituary.
Lost in the Battle 10/19/2017. 11:54 a.m.