*Warning! The language used is for adults over age of 18 years old*
Call me Master
It was a cool fall afternoon in 2006, inside the house, there was a thick layer of steam is covering the windows from the huge pot of spaghetti on the stove. She lifts the lid on the rich aroma of garlicky tomato sauce; she stirs the pot and pauses to blow on the wooden spoon before it reaches her lips for a quick taste to make sure it’s just right.
She enjoys cooking. It is a form of stress release and a way of escaping the thoughts of worry that cloud her mind.
The TV is blaring in the background, with kids whooping and hollering about the funny commercial they just saw. Three kids ranging from age of 11, 8 and 7 years old are racing around the corner of the kitchen nearly knocking her over. She just smiles, they are growing so fast! With a quick glance at the clock, she starts to get a bit nervous. Soon he will be home and she will have to alert the kids to chill out in case he is in a bad mood.
The dog starts barking madly! Everyone freezes.
The kids quickly scurry to the front room, turning down the TV and shushing one another.
She braces herself and hopes for the best. She pastes on a fake smile and greets him. He’s in a foul mood.
He begins to tell her to undress him. She takes off his coat, takes off his flannel shirt, and unbuckles his pants and hurries to unlace his shoes. She smiles and looks up to ask him how his day was. He ask her, “How the fuck do you think my day went?”
She tries to stay positive with doom entering her now heavy heart. She smiles again as she helps him take off his boots. He kicks her away. She absently slowly crawls backward.
He stomps upstairs to the kitchen, pauses at the top and sniffs the air, “What the hell! I can’t even come home to good food on the table and what did you burn?!”
Oh my gosh, the garlic bread! She forgot all about it!
She races to the oven. She keeps silent.
Grabbing the bread quickly and inwardly feeling shame and knowing he would get upset. Then she remembers the spaghetti was still cooking on the stove.
Crap! The noodles are super overdone. He’s going to be mad.
Hopefully he won’t notice. Of course he will.
She quickly emptied the pasta pot with tears stinging her eyes. He was quiet and watching her.
His eyes smoldered.
Courage took over and she asked him why didn't he call that he was so close to home? She says, “I’ll hurry and pop more bread in the oven.”
He just stood there watching. His hands clinched the counter that separated them by 2 feet, of which he would have no problem with reaching over and hitting her. The kids were silent in the other room.
He blows up and says, “Call you?! What so you have time to get the dick out of your pussy? I know your fucking someone.”
He yells she’s useless!
She burned his dinner!
She must have done that because she was busy talking to her boyfriend or fucking him.
The words are stinging.
She tells him he is being silly. He comes around the counter and angrily dumps the contents of the colander in the garbage. He then whips around and tells her to eat the garlic bread as it is, since she burned it. And demands her to make him his dinner and not to burn it this time.
He throws the colander at her and she throws her hands up in defense. She could hear one of the kids crying. He spins on his heels, yells that she must have told the kids not to talk to him because they did not come to give him a hug and kiss when he came home.
He pushes her.
He pushes her again.
She falls to the ground, scrambling to try to get back up, in an instant, he stops by the plates on the counter that were to be set on the table for dinner, and throws them at her.
She gets hit, stifles moans because he would get more enraged.
Broken glass surround her.
She catches the kids as they are quietly trying to sneak up to their rooms undetected and she breathes a sigh of relief.
She doesn't like when they see her like this.
Huddling in a corner, bruised, crying, whimpering and ashamed.
Without warning, it as though a veil seems to have lifted, he smiles at her. He asks how much longer for dinner and he walks to the other room to watch TV. She is still on the floor, achy, befuddled, teary-eyed and stunned. The tirade from start to finish was 10 minutes. It seemed like an eternity.
“Hey, Honey bring me a Diet Sierra Mist.” He also tells her to have the kids come down to watch The Simpsons.
He looks at her and asks for a kiss as if nothing happened minutes before.
Fast forward to November 30, 2013
Yes, you guessed it that was me.
At this time, I am sipping a delicious cup of coffee, looking out the window and watching the shadows from the trees change as the light comes through the window from a glorious morning.
It’s my birthday.
I can honestly say there was a time that I didn't believe I would see another birthday, due to the dire situation. That seems like a life time ago!
Those years seemed as though would never go fast enough and now it is hard to believe that those times are a mere fraction of the life I am living at presently.
From time to time, I share posts about me and my past on a social media page. After a particular blog post and update about my divorce proceedings, someone had asked, “Why are you just digging up bones? Why bother?”
I interpreted it as, “Why are you whining and harping on this again! GEEZ!” She didn't mean it that way and after I explained myself I did have to step back and think that, sometimes it seems as though it would be easier to leave the past in the past.
Ignore it. Perhaps it will just fade away.
Sharing, providing information on the subject of abuse can open up flood gates that would otherwise remain closed for a victim suffering in silence.
Why me Lord? I had screamed in my mind during or after an assault.
Even through all of this, my faith held strong and I knew God would get me through this storm.
He would keep me safe and keep me from losing my sanity.
If you know someone that could be suffering in silence from Abuse please share my story!
There is help for those trapped. I am currently working on writing my experiences from my past to help those that are struggling with any type of abuse, so they know they are not alone.
If you need help right away call 911!
You can also contact The National Domestic Violence Hotline at- www.thehotline.org/
*By the way, the above is a draft, not anywhere near a finished product, but I am working on it! I have some tweaking as well as research on how to publish on my own. Thanks for all the support!
Please know you are never alone in your struggle!*