menond (menond) wrote in _survivors_,

Am I bad person?

Here's my story, kinda, I mean there's only so much I can type.  This doesn't even come close to really describing how horrific the scenes were.

John and I met a little over a year ago when I first moved back to Boulder to finish up my degree. He was a coke dealing cokehead. I met him through one of his tenants/friends (now ex-friend,) Nate. From the minute I laid eyes on John (I was asking where the hell Nate went, 'cos we were all going sledding) I felt something weird. I couldn't take my eyes off him. His other hot tenant, Damon, had answered the door and was talking to me. John's dog was prancing around me, excited, but only John existed. He was my world for that moment.

His birthday comes up and I'd sworn off socializing a night or two before, so I could focus on my studies. He leaves a messge on my cell that he's have a b-day party and to bring all the chicks I know. I didn't really know anybody, anymore. I JUST moved back and most of my friends had graduated and the rest I hadn't gotten in touch with, yet. I went to his party and we didn't part for days. We partied, he cleaned my windows and headlights, he put more oil in the car, and then I went home. I'd taken off my shirt for him and that was it. He told me I was "so beautiful." He really wanted to have sex, but I didn't want to. I let him kiss me. He leaned in fromt he top and kissed me. He doesn't remember out first kiss. He doesn't remember throwing his arm over me and getting on top of me and just leaving me breathless (sounds weak, I know.) The next night, I went back over there, I brought a shit ton of Key Ice and asked him if he wanted anything from the liquor store. I blew a nice wad of cash getting him liquor that night. He chose crown royal as the first thing to go into the decanter he was given from his grandfather's funeral.

Anyway, there's a lot of good stuff in the relationship, but about a week into it. I get mad at him over some stupid shit and walk out on him. I think it had to do with pancakes, that he's such a dick about me making pancakes. Yeah, that was it. Anyway, I go back and apologize before heading to Denver. I call it "orange skirt night," cos I showed up in a hot orange mini skirt to really "make an impression" on him. Let him know what he's missing out on (keep in mind I was still dancing then, and 120 pounds.) He was rude as I left, but sure enough, I get a call a little later and it's him- saying he's sorry for the way he treated me when I made a heart felt apology. He asked me to come over. We talked for a bit. He asked me to keep the skirt on when we fucked. I did.

Fast forward a couple weeks ahead, sometime in May, May 5th- Gamez's 1 year death "anniversary." I told him I'd drive, but, shit, we were at the bars! I got drunk! Funny how that works. John gets pissed about it. We're riding with his friend. One of 'em has this nervous laughing thing. He keeps laughing. John keeps yelling at me to be quiet (I've been silent the whole time, it was his laughing friend who kept talking and laughing.) Dude keeps laughing harder. I'm fucked. he throws me and all my shit out on his front porch and I look at him with what-the-fuck-you-evil-son-of-a-bitch look and he says "that's the look of a dumb bitch that wants to suck my dick on last time." Everyone laughs at me. Shit I'm crying right now thinking about it. That's the meanest thing anyone's ever told me. I should've known then how it was going to end.

Stupidly, I get back with him. I do everything he wants me to, which is be somebody I'm not. I changed to be with him. I'm so stupid. I'm so so so stupid. Why did I do that? I'm so dumb. Why did I put myself through this? I should've just ended it that night.

Things go from bad to worse, he's always putting me down and verbally abusing me. When he's mad at me, he'll break everything. The night before my cousin came into town he broke the entire front porch railing. like fucking BROKE it. I can't believe he let my cousin help him fix it. If my cousin had known he broke that 'cos it's what he wanted to do to me, my cousin would've broke his face in return.

There's broken shit everywhere all the time. All the time. I start cutting myself. I felt so pained, that I started cutting myself. I just needed to distract myself. I needed to be punished for being with him. I needed to feel real. I needed reality. Blood, pain, wounds- those are pretty fucking real. Yes, I FUCKING cut myself. Like a damn FREAK. I mean isn't a goth kid somewhere felling like I stole his schtick? I can't believe it. Now I have these stupid scars all over my arms and upper thighs.

He had a rommate that was always trying to fuck me and he never cared. It's hard to feel any self worth, when your boyfriend/the man who says he loves you doesn't care that his roommate openly tries to fuck me in front of him. This guy even put me in a BET with John. Can you FUCKING BELIEVE THAT!?!?!?!

Anyway, eventually he started shoving me around. I can't really remember the first time, but I remember the first time people saw- it was shortly before I'd taken my LSAT. He was going to shove me down a flight of stairs and a friend of ours had to get him off of me. He took my phone so I couldn't call the police and threw it in the snow. He ws never sorry for that day. He thought it was OK.

We moved in together; things got worse. Always hitting me, pushing me, shoving me, yelling at me, humiliating me, telling me to "get my shit and get the fuck out." This last one was bad though. He ruined my birthday, you see. He made it all about him. Our whole relationship has been about HIM. I should get my fucking birthday. He wanted to leave me on my bday and cry that his bro hung up on him. What the hell is that? He's still your BROTHER, he'll be there for you in the morning. Anyway, he starts getting all weird right before it turns midnight and goes from March 29 to March 30 and I knew this was going to get very bad, so I asked him "do I need to be concerned?" He ignores me and keeps talking. Then he gets pissed that his smoke is hurting my eyes (IT'S BLOWING IN MY FACE!) I go to sleep. I'd promised him head at midnight, but when it turned midnight, he was yelling at me and I could deal- so I left and went into the bed. He gets in. Starts getting pissed that I won't suck his dick. The mood left me when he'd started yelling at me earlier. He grabs me in the bed (keep in mind, 'cos I won't suck his dick) and I get scared. HE GRABBED ME! OVER GETTING HEAD! I was able to wrangle free enough to grab a knife and hold it to his chest. I said "do not hurt me. just let me go. don't do anything stupid." he didn't even realise I was holding a knife (a knife I used to put cheese on crackers earlier, nothing big or scary.) He gets pissed, but I figured he wouldn't be to dumb. I put the knife down and he comes after me, I pick it back up, he practically breaks my wrist getting it out of my hand, and then he beats the shit out of me. I was unconscious for a bit, but I woke up to him cutting his chest in the mirror and then putting the knife in my hand. He didn't realise I was awake there.

He kept trying to tell me I fucking cut him and I DIDN'T. Even then, with fear, I would STAB, not cut, but STAB. Anyway, he beat me up for 4.5 hours, I had my head kicked in, my arms beat to hamburger meat, my back punched, my ear bruised. I wasn't allowed to leave. I ahd to endure it for 4.5 hours. All this, because he was going to fucking RAPE ME. I know the look of rape in someone's eye. I'm a 24 year old woman, of COURSE I know, been there and done that. I defended myself and even then, not very well.

He takes off in the middle of the night and I'm worried about him. I somehow manage to talk him into coming home. He warned me before he left if I called the cops he'd killed me. He never showed up home. Or, so I thought. He was waiting for me. He started making noises so I would find him, "see how easy it would be for me to kill you." I had noticed fresh smoke in the house, but I just figured it was left over from all the cigs he'd smoked that night and my mind was playing tricks on me- hell my head was kicked in pretty bad.

Am I wrong? Should I have never pulled out the kife and let him rape me? I don't understand. I feel like I made a bad mistake. I landed up giving him head and fucking him that night, I was scared of what he'd do if I refused again.

Now I'm home, with my mom, and I can't believe this is my life. I feel like it can't be happening to me.
Tags: abuse: emotional, abuse: mental, abuse: physical, abuse: ritual, abuse: sexual, abuse: verbal, domestic violence, rape: intimate partner, relationships

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