The honeymoon period ended the day after we were married, six months
from when we first met. After a little argument, John grabbed me by the
waist and lifted me up against the wall.
He grabbed my hands and bent them backward, breaking one of my fingers. I was in shock. I was stunned. I was in serious pains.
A few hours after the incident, He broke into tears and told me how sorry he was. I loved him so much,
so I believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again. But life became hell after that.
For the next two months the abuse was nonstop. He kept me in a constant
state of terror. I’m not a drinker, but he’d toss a bottle of beer in my
face and say drink. He’d punch me in the stomach or kick me in
the thigh if I didn’t. I started walking on tiptoes around him,fearful
of everything I’d say and do.
But it didn’t matter; the abuse continued. He dislocated my shoulder several times.
He’d lift me up by the ankles and bang my head against the floor in the living room. A part of me
wanted to leave, but another part of me hesitated.
Somehow I felt I was partially responsible for the abuse. If I hadn’t
made a particular comment or if I had just sipped the alcohol everything
would have been OK.
And for the first few months he was apologetic after the beatings.
He’d say he felt very bad and that he didn’t mean to hit me so hard.
He’d
actually cry sometimes and show such remorse that I’d forget my own
pain. He’d become romantic and sweet,and I’d fall in love with him all
over again.I started to isolate myself from friends and family. I didn’t
want them to know
about the violence.
I put on a happy face with my two kids and tried to act like things were fine. They knew
about the violence but didn’t know the severity.
When my mom wanted to see me, I’d lie, saying I was busy. I didn’t want her to see my bruises. I was
embarrassed. Sadly, the abuse worsened.
The rapes began about two months after wewere married.
I was dressing for work when he came out of the shower and asked me
where I was going. He didn’t wait for my answer. He threw me on the bed,
sat on my stomach, pinned my arms up beside my head and ripped off my
clothes."If you want sex,wait until I get home tonight" I said. You’ll
do it when I want, and how I want, was his response.
It got worse after that. He would tie me up and put foreign objects such as necks of beer bottles into my v*g*na.
Five months into the marriage I endured beating after beating. While
most of the assaults
were done when my children weren’t home, I was worried that they might
step in and tryto protect
me. If they did, they might get beaten, too. I began plotting our
escape, but it was difficult. He had begun making threatening comments:
You can never get far enough away from me. I will always find you. If I
can’t have you, no one will.
I felt trapped. How I left? He had disappeared for three days. I didn’t
know where he was. I thought he had been in an accident. I called his
phone; he would answer but not say anything. He arrived home on the
third night at about 1a.m. and immediately started screaming at me that
he didn’t appreciate me trying to track him down.
We were in the sitting room and he grabbed the land-phone receiver and
began to beat me in the face with it. His eyes were red and flashing
like I’d never seen before. I ran to the bedroom, and he was right
behind me. He picked me up over his head and threw me across the room
twice. I broke my tailbone in the second fall.
My 6-year-old daughter woke up.She must have heard something and came to see what was
happening.
She just stood there, stunned. He looked at her and got scared for some
reason. He
went into the bedroom and pack his things. Ifound my phone, fighting the
pain from the broken bone, limped to the living room, I then called my
father who took me away from
the house. Since then I have not set my eyes on John.
Please what should I do about this marriage?