"When Your Knight In Shinning Armor Breaks More Than Your Heart."
At seventeen years old I married my childhood sweetheart. His name was Tommy, and he was tall and handsome, with shoulder length white blond hair, and piercing deep blue eyes,that melted my heart like butter everytime he looked at me. He had the sexiest Brad Pitt grin, enhanced by seductively full lips and shapely straight, white teeth. His body was lean and muscular, and just the way he walked gave him an air of self control and confidence. He not only had more sex appeal and physical attraction than the law should allow, but also possessed a provocative charisma that could charm the pants off a grizzly bear at fifty feet. A deadly combination when mixed with the explosive, violent temper and rage hidden deep inside the soul of a man, resulting from a grossly dysfunctional and abusive childhood.
I fell in love with Tommy when I was in the seventh grade. From that time on we were pretty much inseparable. We went to every dance and school function together, and spend afternoons at my house doing homework together. My parents were not very optimistic when at sixteen I told them we were engaged and planning to get married. They tried hard to persuade me to date other guys, and reconsider the choice I was making. That only resulting in making me more determined, and the following summer we ran away and got married.
By this time I already knew about his childhood. His father got really mean when he drank, seldom worked and had spent several stretches in jail for burglary and family violence. His mother worked all the time, had very little patients with her three sons, and was not completely faithful to his father. My parents, on the other hand, were quite the opposite.
Tommy and I both got jobs, and our own apartment. He decided to quit school, and I went back that fall, as promised to my parents, for my senior year. Going to school, working, and being married was hard. Tommy liked to party, and was unhappy when I was too tired or busy to go somewhere with him. He started having people over all hours of the day and night, drinking and doing drugs. When I said something about it, he told me I was being a nag just like his mother. He said that was why his Dad drank all the time, and also the reason his Mom got her mouth slapped shut on many occasions. I knew Tommy had a temper, we had some pretty heated arguments over the years, even before we got married, but he had never threatened to hit me before.
Along with his temper, he was also overly jealous, very controlling and often critical. I knew all of this ahead of time also, but it seemed to intensify significantly after we were married. He got mad if he thought I was talking to one of his friends too much, or they were paying me too much attention. He drove me to school and work, and picked me up even though I had my own car. Told me what clothes and make up I could wear, and told me I was getting fat when I gained an extra five pounds.
One day when he came to pick me up at school I was standing in the parking lot talking to some friends while I waited. There was about five or six of us there, several guys included. Tommy pulled up beside us and immediately jumped out of his car, smacked the poor guy in the mouth that happen to be innocently standing next to me. Then he grabbed me by the hair, my books and papers went flying everywhere, and he dragged me in the car with him. It all happened so fast, it took me a few minutes to even realize what had transpired. I stared at the big clump of long hair that he had pulled out of my head, and was now laying in the seat beside me. The shock of what he had done was so great all I could do was sit there and cry all the way home. That was the beginning of my journey into a life I had no idea existed outside of horror movies and nightmares.
Tommy refused to let me go back to school. One of my friends called and came by to give me my books that we just left in the parking lot, but he would not let me talk to her. I was so embarrassed and humiliated, I don't know if I could have even gone back after that. He accused me of flirting with the boy that he had hit, and said he knew we were plotting a way to meet each other somewhere later. I was devastated at his accusations, and tried to tell him that wasn't the truth, but he just pushed me away from him and stormed out the door.
I felt numb all over, and eventually cried myself to sleep. Tommy came home about four A.M. the next morning. He climbed in bed beside me, and hugged me close. He told me how sorry he was, and how much he loved me. I was so relieved, and as the numbness faded, once again I felt safe, and secure beside this man I loved with all my heart and soul.
Things went well for the next several months. I didn't go back to school, but I made arrangements to take the GED exam, and decided not to tell my parents for a while. I went to work full time as a waitress, and studied for the GED test in my spare time. Tommy worked sporadically at odd and end jobs, and then one day he met a man that introduced him to a new business..... dealing drugs. This business involved less physical work, which was much more to his liking, and promised very lucrative profits.
I was very much against this, and voiced my opinion to Tommy as such. Drugs were not new to me, and Tommy and I had did our share of smoking weed, dropping acid, and popping a few pills, but dealing drugs for a living was not something I wanted to do. We argued, and I told him I would not have any part of it. The argument heated up and I stood my ground against him. He grabbed me by the arms and shoved me backwards into the bedroom wall, then held me there, crushing me against it, and yelling in my face. He informed me at that time, that I was HIS wife, which meant I was HIS property, and I WOULD do what HE told me. He let me go, and as I slid down the wall to the floor, breathless and crying, I heard the front door slam loudly as he left.
Not knowing what to do next, and having no idea of the repercussions of what I was about to set into motion, I waited for him to come home. I was determine to stand my ground on this issue, and told him so the minute he walked in the door. As soon as I got the words out of my mouth the look in his eyes told me I had made the wrong decision. He back handed me hard in the face and sent me reeling across the living room. Before I could recover, he hit me again and blood started to pour from my nose and lips. I ran at him with my fist flying, but my five foot, four inch, one hundred and forty pound frame was no match for his six foot, three inch, two hundred pounds of muscle and fury. He easily over powered my defense by knocking me to my knees with one solid blow to the side of my head, and then kicking me the rest of the way to the floor. I laid there curled in a ball, bleeding and begging him to stop... I felt the vibrations of his foot steps on the floor as he walked out, and slammed the door again.
I didn't move from the floor for a long while. I could feel my mouth burning and my eyes starting to swell shut. I got up slowly, went to the bathroom and took a long hot shower watching my blood as it disappeared down the drain. The awful bruising I saw on my face in the mirror was minor damage compared to the suffering in my heart.
I had to call into work the next few days. Tommy was in and out frequently, and spoke to me very little. I stayed out of his way, and watched my Ps and Qs. The day I returned to work I was surprised when a large box came for me with a dozen roses in it. The card was from Tommy and simply read, " I love you, please forgive me, and Happy Anniversary". I had completely forgotten today was our first wedding anniversary. When I got home that afternoon Tommy had dinner on the table, with the lights turned down and candles lit. He smiled at me with that melt my heart everytime grin, and we had a wonderful romantic dinner, then held each other in bed all night.
By the time our second anniversary rolled around the cycles of abuse were becoming more frequent and much more violent. Tommy would be gone for days at a time, and I heard him bragging to his friends about other women he was sleeping with. He would take my car keys when he went out, leaving me walk to work. When he found out I had an extra key made, he ripped wires off the engine so it wouldn't start. One day when it was raining I had a co worker give me a ride home, and Tommy was there. He yelled at her, called her some bad names, then accused us of not being at work that day, and running around looking for men to pick up. He pushed me down in the gravel when I got out of the car, and rubbed my face in the dirt in front of my co worker. My body took the abuse of those rages. Black eyes, busted lips, bruised ribs and broken bones heal completely, but the mutilation of my soul is where the scars were left.
Shortly before our third anniversary I found out I was pregnant. As I stood in the bathroom at work and watched the line turn blue for positive on a home pregnancy test stick, I glanced into the mirror. I saw several fading purple bruises visible at my left cheek under all the make up, and my bottom lip still sore, slightly larger than normal. My face was still that of a nineteen year old girl, familiar to me in spite of the discoloration, but it was my eyes that I didn't recognize. They were almost luminous, deeply sad, cold, and hollow, lifeless to the core.
I heard a voice in my head softly whisper, and felt a presence so powerful I hit my knees in that bathroom and prayed to God for help. I prayed desperately for this tiny life now growing inside of me. I prayed silently, and then I prayed out loud. The tears rolled down my cheeks, as I prayed more, and cried out for the release from this wretchedness in my soul. I don't know how long I stayed there, I just remember the peace I felt when I stood up.
When I left work that day, I didn't go home, there was not a single thing there I wanted anymore.. nothing. I drove to my parents house and told them everything that had been going on. I was surprised to know that they already knew most of it. I had tried to hide things from them, but they had figured it out. I told my mother about my prayer in the bathroom, and she immediately started to cry. She said that she had gone to the church earlier for a woman's Bible study, and had told several of her closest friends about her daughter that was in an abusive relationship. They had spent the morning on their knees, holding hands and praying for me.
The divorce was tough, and Tommy cried for me to come back. I felt a flutter, as the tiny life inside of me moved and I held my ground.