UglyI was 15 years old when I met Pat* the first time. I wasn't blown over by his looks, or his charm. Looking back, I don't know exactly WHAT it was that attracted me to him. In truth, I suppose it was an exit strategy from my dysfunctional home. Pat* was 11 years my senior. Of course, my parents didn't know that..we lied to them about that. Thinking of the situation now.. me being only 15, him 26 only serves as one more source of disgust for him.
I was at an age where most of my friends were starting to get dates..and I really wasn't. I was new to the school, only had a couple friends at the time, and was very, painfully shy. When Pat came into the picture and started showing an interest in me, I relished the attention. As I got to know him more, I eventually fell in love with him.. (a 16 year old's interpretation of love, at least). It wasn't a whirlwind romance. There was no sweeping me off my feet.. or any sort of courting me, that I really remember. Once in a while he would say something nice, and I had learned to live for those occasional sentiments. Pat was from a deeply dysfunctional family as well..far worse than my own. I always..and still do..reason his behavior down to that.. product of his environment. This, also was an excuse I used to use, to justify his behavior.
Over the months, we grew closer. Well, I grew closer to him. I liked having 'someone'. He was intelligent..although he never really applied himself for anything good. Eventually after a year of dating, I got pregnant. I was devastated by this..terrified of how my parents would react.. about my future and if I could provide for a baby, being so young. I continued to be the dutiful girlfriend. When I'm with someone, I like to do things for them.. make them happy.. help them out. I enjoy doing those things for the person I care about.
One day while I was 2 weeks before delivering my baby..I was doing Pat's laundry. I was putting his socks away in the drawer..and there they were.. pictures of him..and my best friend..in various sexual acts. I was absolutely devastated. He wasn't home at the time, but came home a couple minutes after my discovery. I was furious..not only was I about to deliver his baby..but he was with my BEST friend. I cannot describe the betrayal I felt, from the both of them. Instead of him comforting me, or trying to explain..he started screaming at me, that I was nosey..and that was none of my ******* business. I tore those pictures up in front of him..and that was it.. he punched me in the face. He then grabbed me by the throat and screamed in my face. I was terrified. That was the first time he had ever shown that side of himself to me.
That day was the beginning. I should have left..but I was young and pregnant..due to deliver any day.. I didn't know any other way. I couldn't tell my parents, because I was afraid of their reaction..and this was also the start of another trait I hadn't seen before. Pat began blackmailing me. In my ignorance of youth..I too had reluctantly allowed him to take pictures of me...which.. became the perfect weapon against me, because any time I didn't do what he thought I should..the threat would come out that those pictures would be plastered all over town..right after he sent copies to my parents. I was afraid my dad, knowing his temper..would kill him. So, I was stuck. Couldn't leave.. couldn't tell anyone what was going on.
After that first day that he hit me..it became less and less for him to get angered to the point he would raise his hands to me. He started controlling where I went, and with who. The checks that I was earning from my job, he was confiscating..and giving me an allowance to live on of $20 a week..to which I had to buy diapers with. When I stopped wanting to be intimate with him..he took it. When I graduated high school, he moved me out of my parent's house. I say he moved me, because literally, he did. I didn't help one bit. I guess in my own way, I was hoping someone in my family would notice I wasn't doing a thing to help, and it would serve as some sort of signal I didn't want to go...but it didn't. Maybe they knew and didn't acknowledge it. My parents were very old school.. because I had a baby, they thought I should stay with him..come hell or high water. i don't know.
I became a prisoner of that house. My only excused absences from the house was to work, to the grocery store..and to the occasional doctor's appointment for the baby. I remember thinking at one point..he was either going to kill me..or I was going to kill him. It was that volatile in that house.
We lived in this crap ba
This went on for months. One night, I decided to defy him.. my friend came over. It was snowing and raining that night..so she just wanted to check in with her mom to let her know she was at my house. This was the early 90s.. those phones with the flourescent tubes in them were popular at the time. When you dialed, the light would flicker. He saw that light go off. He screamed something from the bedroom...to which I mocked. He heard it. He came out of that bedroom..and I knew what was coming. As soon as he saw my friend..he grabbed her, and shoved her out the door. Then he went to work on me..he was punching me..as I lay on the floor. I remember looking up and seeing my little girl's face, as she heard the commotion and got out of her bed. It was a look of sheer terror. She was screaming...it was that moment, I decided I could not let my little girl see this. I would not allow her to see the same horrors that I had witnessed as a child. I was not going to let her grow up and think that this was acceptable behavior from a man.
Everything is a bit blurry after that.. I remember once he got up.. I grabbed my car keys from the counter and my daughter and bolted to the door. I started running up the alley..as he was too close behind me to get myself and her in the locked car. I ran as fast as I could up the alley..screaming "somebody help me please..he's going to kill me!!!" I believed that with every ounce of my being..that night..he was going to.
He caught up to me..well enough that he could grab me by they hair. He yanked my head back hard enough, I fell straight on my back. I somehow managed to hold on to my daughter but I dropped my keys. He scooped them up, took my house key off the keyring and then threw the keys into my face. He then struggled to take my daughter away...screaming..you'll never see her again!! I fought so hard to hold her, but he just kept punching and kicking.. during all of this, I remember looking up and seeing the tenants from the upstairs apartment in our house, looking out the window. I screamed for help. No one came. No one called the police. I was on my own. He was able to take the baby from my arms..and he ran back into the house that I no longer had keys for. I got in my car and went to the police. It was his cousin that was on duty. (small town.. not a lot of police here). He went with me up to hte house to get my daughter back..but the end result was..he wouldn't give her up and the police man refused to help me get her back. I had to leave that night without her. That was one of the hardest nights of my life, not knowing if she would be there in the morning, when I was supposed to be able to pick her up, or not.
I went back the next morning.. he had thrown all of my clothes and what few possessions he deemed mine..out into the street. Breaking just about anything that was worth anything.. when i tried to bring my daughter home..he refused. Thankfully, this time, I had an officer that said I could take her.
There are so many other things in this story, that I have left out..to try to keep this somewhat ..brief. He was abusive on every level..emotionally, physically, sexually. He had inflicted scars that I still to this day struggle with. I am happy that my little girl wasn't raised in that dangerous environment..and she has absolutely no idea of the extent of things that went on in that house. I'm just happy we both made it out, before she could remember any of it. I wish I had.