That day…

It was a Monday morning, in January, we were arguing and  I said I was done. He asked why and I said I was tired, of him, of his constant whining, I was tired. I think that was when he got angry. He grabbed my arms and started hitting my back against the wall, I yelled at him to stop it, that he was hurting me, he didn’t stop. He tossed me on the bed and put his hands around my neck, pressing down, I couldn’t breathe. Then he grabbed my face and kept pressing down, he pulled my hair, he pressed my face down on the bed so I couldn’t get any air. I kept screaming, hoping someone, anyone, would hear me. I don’t think anyone heard me. He sat on my chest and kept hitting and hitting and hitting. I was begging, crying “please don’t kill me, please”. At one point he said “I’ll kill you and bury your body and nobody would know what happened to you”, he was smiling as he said that. I tired to fight back and he said “oh, you think you’re strong?” I was finally able to free myself and then I ran to the living room and he went after me, I muttered the word “murderer” and he heard me and threw a teacup at me, it missed my head by a few inches. I ran into the bathroom and he followed me there, I was so weak I fell to the floor and he stood over me, the look in his eyes… he said “you’re lucky the floor is tiled, the only thing stopping me from hitting your head on the floor is I might crack your skull and you’ll bleed everywhere”. I thought I was going to die that day, I honestly thought that was the end. Few minutes after that, he was crying and tried to hug me, saying he was sorry and he didn’t know what came over him, that he needed help and he was going to seek therapy. 

I lost clumps of hair, there were scratches on my face and purple marks on my neck from when he tried to strangle me, red marks on my arms… I took pictures, I wanted to go to the police or tell a friend to help me teach him a lesson, but I deleted the pictures after a while. I tried to hide the scars, with make up, with long sleeves and turtlenecks, but I couldn’t hide all of them. Someone looked at my neck and asked “are those hickeys?” I smiled and said it was an allergic reaction. I had nightmares the night after that, my friend said I was talking and twisting and turning in my sleep. My neck hurt so bad the next day I couldn’t use a pillow or twist it or make any sudden movements. I found it hard to swallow food. My arms felt like dead weight. There was dried blood on my scalp, I saw blood on my pillow everyday for a week and my scars took a while to disappear. It took me longer than usual to shower, then my friend helped rub lotion on my body and helped me dress up. She looked at me and said “if you go back to him I’m calling your mother and telling her everything”.

That wasn’t the first time it happened lol, that was the second time, earlier this year. The first time was late last year, but it wasn’t as bad as the second time. The first time, he grabbed my arm and was trying to get me to listen to him during an argument, then I hit his arm and yelled at him to let me go. He got mad and pushed me to the floor and started hitting and kicking, when I got up he grabbed me again and started hitting my back against the wall. He apologized after that, but I blocked his numbers because didn’t want to hear any of it, then he came to see me a week later, crying and begging. I took him back, I don’t know why I took him back. I kept telling myself “he was angry and he has promised never to do it again so let me just take him back”. But he did it again, and what’s even crazier is I went back to him after the second time. I finally left him a few weeks later. 

I used to say if any man laid his hands on me, I would make him regret it. But that day, I was crying and begging for my life. I have a lot of male friends, guys that would have beaten the crap out of him if I had said anything about it to them, but I didn’t tell any of them. I don’t know why. There was this feeling of shame about what happened to me, I do not know why I felt ashamed. I mean, a lot of people go through what I went through and even worse, so why did I feel ashamed? I wasn’t angry at first, the anger came much much later. I wanted to believe that that wasn’t him, I wanted to believe that he was just going through a lot of crap and didn’t know how to deal with it. lol I was making excuses for him. Is this why people in abusive relationships find it hard to leave? Do they constantly hope that the other person will change? Is that why they always go back to them? I used to think people like that were weak, until it happened to me. I still think that that’s not who he is, maybe it’s because that’s not who I want him to be. After we broke up, I asked him why he hit me and he said he was frustrated and the fact that I was always ready to end things made him mad, but that it was no excuse for what he did and he was sorry.

I think once it happens the first time and you don’t do anything about it, they feel it’s okay to do it again, I dunno, I don’t know how their mind works. I don’t know how anyone could do that to another human being. It’s a horrible thing you know, someone you’re supposed to feel safe with ends up being a threat to your life. One thing is for sure, I’m never going to let that happen to me again. It shouldn’t have to happen to anyone, it’s not supposed to happen.