My life started in 2012, I was born in 1987. Those 25 years have nothing to do with me.


Part 1

I was stuck in a bad relationship. And when I say stuck I mean I wasn't allowed to leave him and when I say bad I mean he was bad. Paul, like his father and his father before that, had spent years in the Marines. He was in the infantry in Iraq and was a trained sniper. He took two bullets to the chest and was given a purple heart and sent home. It was hard for him to adjust.
He came home to a wife who was done with their marriage and a young daughter who didn't understand what was happening. He had always struggled with anger and anxiety and the trauma he faced in the war didn't help.
The VA offered counseling and perocet and xanax. He stopped going to counseling and used the drugs to cope. His wife divorced him and moved away taking his daughter with her. He moved into an apartment on the first floor of an old building.
That's when I met him.

I had seen him a couple times at the bar before. We'd share that lingering stare saying with our eyes what our hearts were feeling. But I was already dating someone. Ryan was possessive and jealous. Which never made a lot of sense to me because he cheated constantly.
One particular evening at The Rendezvous, a hole in the wall dive bar in my home town, I had sat down at a table while Ryan went to the restroom. Out of nowhere and as fast as I could blink Paul took the seat across from me. My heart raced knowing that if Ryan came back we'd both be in trouble. Ryan chose his fists over his wit.
But Pauls eyes had stars and it was hard to resist smiling back at those baby blues. As quick as it came, the vacation was over. "Where's your boyfriend?" he asked. Gesturing towards the boy with smoke blowing out of his ears walking up behind him I said "There he is."

Fast forward and I've moved in with Paul after dating for 6 weeks. Life was hard being his girlfriend. The repeated night terrors scared me to death and his quickness to anger made me walk on egg shells. But he was sweet too.
We'd go for night walks and he'd always take me out to dinner. We played pool a lot and he'd let me win which made me mad but I'd laugh and thank him anyway. He sent me flowers all the time at work with sweet love notes. I'd always wish those moments could last forever.
Being a veteran he made good money off the government. So he didn't need a job. He did take law course at the local university but he was very intelligent so it didn't need a lot of his attention. I'd come home from work and he'd still be in pajama bottoms, mouth open, staring into the TV screen of whatever shooting video game he was playing. When he didn't greet me I'd know he was doped up on percocet.
On the glass coffee table he'd lay out 2 of the 10s and dig into his pocket for a quarter and a credit card. He'd single out one, lay the quarter on top of it and smash the pill. Then the same to the other. With the credit card he'd swish the dust back and forth into lines. Then lower his head, plug one nostril and with a curled up dollar he'd snort each one up into his face. And me, I'd sit there, watching him do this to himself and say, "Well, see ya later I guess." He was about to become a glass eyed pale zombie for the rest of the evening. The percocets I could handle, I mean how easy is it to sit next to someone with little to no brain activity. The worst was when he'd crush up a xanax. That's when my nightmare started.

Part 2 Police and Restraining orders

Part 3 Meeting New People
NinaBobina NinaBobina
26-30, F
1 Response Aug 23, 2014

I don't know anyone who makes a good living as a veteran from the government. If they have a family I don't know anyone who makes a good living while still serving.
I am sorry for your experience dear. Living with a drug addict is not easy

He made 40,000 a year. If he got a job they'd pay him 20,000. So he didn't get a job. I don't know how he got that much but he did. We both enjoyed those pay checks.