I started hooking up regularly with a guy who then staked a claim.
Lets call him Captain Asshole of the Biggest Mistake Brigade, or CA for short.
For the next two years I went through things that would make a POW cringe. And I don't mean he just hit me. Alot of chicks go through abusive relationships and get off easy by just getting the shit kicked out of them a few times. This man spent the first 6 months putting me into some moronic hypnotism spell. He cajoled and convinced me that as hideous and fat as I was that I was LUCKY to have him. That he would even spend his time on me.
He never was sweet to me. He never tricked me into being with him. It was just shitty, then it became outrageous. All this time with people around me and words swirling in my mind had me convinced.
I was fat. I was ugly. I was worthless. and I deserved to be punished.
Shortly after our 4 month mark we got into a minor argument, (I don't really remember it but I assume it was his outrageous jealousy) He demanded that I drop out of school and quit my job. I refused.
He grabbed my neck and choked me.
It was the first time in my life (other than bouts of court intercepted child abuse by my mother), that I had ever been put into a position that I literally could not defend myself.
I was panicked, clawing at his hands and punching his chest, I tried everything to free myself. But the world swirled and blackened and the only thing that would loosen his grip was my unconsciousness. I awoke to find him in a heap next to me sobbing his "I'm sorrys"
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I was LUCKY to have him. Noone else would have me. He SAID he loved me. Maybe it was just a moment of rage.
And then I came upon the single driving most ignorant thought that has ever and commonly does cross an abused woman's mind.
It was my fault.
I allowed him to put his sobbing head into my lap and I told him that it was alright.
I quit my job and dropped out of school.
In the months to come he became more involved in something from his past that I would NEVER do.
Meth.
This made him into a completely psychotic rageful lunatic. And I just stayed. In all honestly, I really didn't have anywhere else to go. No friends that were around. A distant chilly feeling I still retained for my mother, who had since moved onto a thieving psycho boyfriend.
I became a punching bag. He was a little mad, slap. He was really mad, choke, punch. He called me "Cunt ass bitch" in place of my name. I rarely spoke, lost 30 pounds in the course of 4 months, and I stayed zoned out of pills to numb the pain.
I had lost all ounces of me and began just watching from the outside. He would beat the hell out of that girl and demand she pull her bruised body from the ground and cook dinner. He was 6 foot 3 and 300 pounds of muscle.
He cheated on her. But that was almost a feeling of mercy. He would take what he wanted even if she could hardly bend her bruised ribs to accommodate, even if she had an eye swollen shut.
Then a special kind of hell fell over me. I became pregnant. I was horrified. I cried all of those tears that I had kept buried inside myself. The ones I would NEVER show him in weakness.
I was bringing an innocent child into my hell. And that made me hate me more.
With news of my pregnancy CA changed completely. And much like my biological father came to ignore my presence completely. The only words I heard him direct toward me were to make fun of how weak i was when morning sickness got the best of me.
And the most painful part of this story comes to now. One night when I was nearing the marker of 6 months into my pregnancy with a baby boy I had planned to name Gage, we had a slight argument. I remember exactly what it was about. He thought I was looking at one of his friends. He suspected retaliation from the news that he had recently cheated on me with a 13 year old girl.
I lowered my head and prayed he wouldn't hit me. He didn't.
He pushed me. And I spun and hit a plate glass window and went right out of it. It cut my arms, and legs, and my face but not my precious tummy.
None I even suspected were needed for stitches.
But that was enough for me. I waited for a sneaky moment and called my mother for rescuing. I knew she would allow it if It made her out to be my hero in other's eyes.
She came and got me.
A month later at a regular OB appointment I received some painful news....
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