My morning shower started off my day, as usual, and for once I wasn’t flooded by text messages and accusations. I was able to enjoy the beads of warm water bouncing off of my skin, while the knots in my hair made their way out. I had a bad feeling in my gut… maybe I shouldn’t have left my phone downstairs. I felt like way too much time had passed without hearing from my “other half.” I nearly slipped out of the shower, grabbed my towel and ran down two flights of stairs. My phone was mid-vibration when I got a hold of it.
23 new messages.
That’s it, I was a dead woman. I couldn’t even read through half of his messages without feeling the tears take over my eyes. I didn’t know what I was thinking… my phone was supposed to be by my side at all times. How could I let myself slip up? I was never going to hear the end of it.
“You can tell him I’m on my way. He’s dead.”
“If you don’t answer me right now, you’ll regret it.”
“Go ahead, be with him. I knew you were a whore.”
His remarks stopped putting me into shock a long time ago. I was numb to his words. Even when I knew I had done nothing wrong, I felt like I deserved the punishment. I was so persuaded that he had a legitament reason to be angry with me. There I sat, beating myself up for something that could’ve been prevented. If I would’ve just LISTENED to him…. No. I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. I was consistently giving into his ways – battling myself in a war I would never win. I could feel his grin sliding from one cheek to the other. All he had to do was make it obvious that he was dissatisfied, and there I was sobbing at his feet. It was a never ending cycle.
He used this as his way to seek revenge. I wouldn’t hear from him for hours. If it were a school day, he would walk right through me as if I wasn’t there. Why? He wanted me to beg. He wanted to witness his plans in action. I messaged him one after the other… again and again and again.
“It won’t happen again.”
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong! Give me a fucking break!” Pause. Wrong move, Courtney.
It was so infuriating! I could no longer live to be treated like I was a cheater. But it was my word against his, and only he could be right.
My mom always caught on to my mood when we were in a quarrel. How was I supposed to admit that he was upset over me not answering his texts quick enough? It was embarrassing, and I couldn’t take the thought of her being disappointed with me for putting up with his tactics. I knew how she would’ve reacted, along with anyone else who knew our struggles. It wasn’t worth the argument to constantly be told to just leave him. Letting those words trickle out of their mouths was effortless. But for me to act upon their demands was unrealistic. It just wasn’t going to happen.
I lived with a huge question mark floating over my head. After years of dealing with the same routine, I became aware of what was acceptable and what wasn’t. My rule book sat in my back pocket to be within reach whenever I needed it. Should I run to the mall real quick to meet with my girlfriend? No, he wouldn’t like that. I don’t want to get in trouble. There is no exaggeration… this was my life. I don’t know how I put up with it, and I don’t know why.
But the story continues…