The person who abused me,
Was not a stranger,
We had ‘grown up’ together,
Knew him, I guess that is what made it more difficult.
He was charming.
Was a talker.
Laughed a lot. Joked a lot.
Some people say he was a good child.
Well, you cannot usually tell if a person is abusive or not. They hide it so well.
Smiles to the public. Sneers to me.
A pat on the back to outsiders. Slaps and punches in my head and face.
Honey dripping words to the world. Stinging remarks to me.
I loved him.
Also grew afraid of him. His flares of temper. The iron of his fist hitting against my jaw.
The salty taste of blood that followed.
The yanking of the hair.
And the blinding pains that followed.
My pleas went unheard.
Some of his people watched. Not helping.
Beaten to a pulp.
Lord forgive me but sometimes in my sleep I thought of doing the same to him, or more.
Yet I knew I did not have an ounce of violence in me.
Threatened to cut up my face once,
So that no one would want to look upon my face.
Told me over and over again that if I left him,
Nobody else would want me.
Lost confidence in myself.
Became a husk of my former self.
Went to him for approval yet he cut me down every time.
After everything was said and done,
He told me that he loved me.
I failed to understand though,
How a person who claimed to love me slap me so hard when I ‘woke up’ from my black out there would be blood caked in my ears,
How a person who loved me would humiliate me in front of his friends, calling me names.
How a person who loved me would lock me in the house for days.
How a person who loved me would beat me to a pulp with an umbrella by the bus station.
How a person who loved me intercepted a message from a potential employer and cussed him out so bad that they gave the job to someone else.
How a person who loved me tried to grab me by the neck from a commuter omnibus through the window.
How a person who loved me would do so many hurtful things in my eyes he became a monster.
I blamed myself.
Tried to retrace to day one.
Tried to figure out where I had gone wrong.
I always blamed myself.
Grew bitter. Withdrew from my friends. Defended him in front of my family.
Till my mother realized that if she did not act, I was not going to leave.
Kept telling ma that it would get better.
Her words were “I can’t lose you. You can’t die.”
She told him, “I only have 3 children, I am not losing one of them to you.”
Glad I managed to make peace with him and forgive him before he died.