Beyond the Pane VIII (5 Months of Marriage)

I found calm in being a mother. When Chris was gone to work I really enjoyed my son, singing and playing, watching him smile and grow. I never raised even an eye to Chris while he was home. I never questioned, I just did.

We got married and all seemed fine from outside closed doors. He hit me less and less but the things he said always made me wonder. Why was he with me if I was such bad a wife, lover and housekeeper? Why did he marry me? More often than not I found it easier to just agree with him. I was not alive in his presence I was nothing better than his slave, his property that he sometimes took pleasure in and sometimes took pleasure in torturing. I didn’t even fear him like before, like a dog being beaten all I did was cower, and stay still, lowering my head, whimpering at the lashes. Funny thing about fear is we tend to be afraid because we do not want to lose something, people fear losing their spouse, some fear fire or old age. Some people’s greatest fear is poverty. What did I have to loose really?

I doubt if I could lose people’s respect for me, lose my family and friends he had already separated me from, my sanity, oh I know I should lose my vast wealth I had accumulated all these years. NO! I had nothing and according to Chris and most the people I have ever known. I was going to have nothing. There is point in a person’s life where reality just kind of hits you, where you ask yourself some real heart wrenching questions that will either make you stronger or destroy you completely.

Who am I?

Now for some, this is an easy question, they mark their value as an individual according to their success or what they have accumulated, who loves them and how many people they love. But I had none of those things. I was once told as a teen when I was trying to lose weight that there was no diet, no medicine or program a person can be put on to make them lose weight unless they first are willing to change. If a person is not wanting to better themselves then there is no amount of others will that will make it so.

Deep inside me flickered a light, it was sparked in me when I looked into my sons eyes and I realized I have given life to him and yet I have put him into a life that will only teach him how to control, beat and abuse. I know I had control of the abuse now, only because I have forced myself to be what he wanted. I chose to give up being me so someone could love me and that is not a life worth living. I loved my son and it was that love that kept me going and helped me to plan my escape.

At first I just thought about it, I wondered what I would do, where I would go, my plans where always on my mind. Like a cat I would watch the door waiting for my master to open it. I was nothing if not patient. Months later and many chances to prepare my reserves It happened. Chris came home from work, I was waiting for him like a happy little house wife. “Hi Hun, how was your day?” No sooner had the words left my mouth, was my mouth split open and I was on the floor being held down by my throat he hit me so hard that my nose was broken. I tried to fight back this time as I heard my son crying, watching while his father kept slapping me. He was too young to understand what was really going on, but the fact that he was there put fuel to my fire.

I kicked, I scratched, I grabbed a shoe and hit him in the head with it, I tried everything I had in me to make sure that he was the one with marks this time. My screaming and fighting back made him try harder to silence me as he held my mouth shut, digging his finger nails into my upper lip. With his elbow in my throat, his full weight on me and I couldn’t breathe through my nose, I pasted out.

I woke up on the bed necked, bleeding and sore in places my imagination dare not guess the things he did. I was face down while he was rapping me, fucking my ass, pulling my hair and calling me a bitch. He said I was not enough of a woman to be made love to in a proper way and I deserved no better than a whore….

Deep breathe, I have to stop an explain something to you that maybe you have not figured out yet. I am a very patient, and rational person, more so than anyone in this world I believe. I lived my life in the past driven by emotion and love. I also am a quick study, a cold and matriculated planer so when he was fucking me and I was feeling only pain and disgust. I was calling out “Yes, harder, harder, call me a bitch!” he stopped and pushed me away (Surprised) wide eyed and disbelieving as I sat up, whipped the blood from my lip LAUGHING and said “You should have finish killing me”

When he left for work, he took my pants, my shoes and the baby’s stroller. It was winter and he knew I wouldn’t dare leave the house half necked. I stood at the window, looking Beyond the pane of glass and into my own pain. I clenched the curtains as I watched him drive away. I cried at that window almost as long as he had just beaten me. I pulled down the curtains, wrapped them around me Like an Indian woman, grabbed my son and walked to the police station barefoot. I walked along the railroad tracks away from the road in case he decided to double back to check on me. I walked on ice, through barbs and broken glass, but I was never cut and my feet never felt cold. My son slept in my arms the whole time, God walked with me.

Ok. Don’t get too excited there is still more.
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