“I don’t want either of those things Matt. I’m almost twenty-three years old. It’s time I grew up. I want to get my own place, somewhere smaller and a job and I want to get my life on track on my own. I need this, I need to learn to be independent.” I said firmly. It was true. Since finishing my A-levels over three years ago I had been looking for direction. I didn’t want to go to university, I found the idea of it all far too daunting. I wasn’t good in busy places, they intimidated me, as did many things at that time. I had led a sheltered life, protected from everything and supported financially by my parents and especially by Matt and the result was that I was a very naive, extremely nervous person who really hadn’t ever grown up. When my parents were there it never really mattered, they supported me and cared for me and I never really had to think about the real, scary world. In that moment with Matt, I knew now they were gone it was time to seriously grow up.
“I understand what you’re saying Darling and in some ways I agree, but I will not be thousands of miles away from you when I’m all that you have left. Either you come with me to the US or I’m coming home. You can still have your independence, but I want to be near you.”
This argument continued for the next three weeks, throughout my parent’s funeral and the reading and sorting of the will. My parents left everything to Matt and I and we were both quite wealthy when we left the solicitor's office that morning. We both knew though, that we would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant we could have just one more day with our parents.
Internally I was still a wreck. Whenever I was alone I fell apart and sobbed broken heartedly. I struggled to sleep, eat and do the normal things my body required. Of course, I was trying to hide all of this from my brother so he would believe I could cope alone and would get back to his own life in Chicago.
We had put my parent’s house up for sale just a week after the funeral. It was too big for just the two of us, even if we were going to live together, which we weren’t and Matt wanted to get it all sorted before he left, so we needed to move quickly. We sold it at the full asking price just two weeks later. It was emotional to know that we would have to leave our childhood home and all of the memories that it held, but we both knew it needed to be done, Matt and I agreed to put everything we didn’t need from the house into storage for a while, until we decided what we actually wanted to keep.
Six weeks after my parents died we were closing the door on our home for the last time. I had found a small apartment near to the centre of York, just a few miles from the village in which I had grown up, and Matt had helped me move my things from our home and buy whatever I needed to make it feel like home. I had also bought a car since I no longer had my parents to chauffeur me around and I was in the process of looking for a part time job. I had finally convinced Matt I would be fine alone, and he had reluctantly booked his flight home for two weeks later. I was absolutely terrified of being alone when he left, but I didn’t tell him. I wanted him to go back feeling confident that I was alright, even if I really wasn’t.
The morning he left me was one of the hardest times of my life. I felt settled into my apartment, but only because Matt had been staying with me there for two weeks. I knew I was going to be lost and completely alone without him and that was why it was so extremely hard to say goodbye to him.
“I’m always on the other end of the phone Darling, whenever you want me, I’ll be there.” He soothed as he held me tightly.
“I know.” I whimpered between sobs.
“And I’ll come back as often as I can. Maybe you could come and visit me too?”
“I’d like that.” I agreed. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“It’s not too late. You could still come with me, or I can simply stay?”
“No Matt, we’ve talked and talked about his. You have to go, and I have to find my own feet.” I said firmly.
“I know, but the offer will always stand. I can come back anytime if you need me, don’t be afraid to ask me to, because you know I will.”
“I have to do this. I have to learn to be on my own.”
“You’ll never be on your own Darling.”
“You should get going or you’ll miss your flight.” I was fighting to hold in my tears every second.
“You’re right. I love you Lucy.“ He said softly as he squeezed me tight.
“I love you too Matt, so much” I whimpered. He released me and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead before he turned and left, closing the door behind him. I stood at the window and watched him drive away and then I collapsed to the floor and sobbed my heart out. I was alone, truly alone in a big bad world which I had never really been formally introduced to. I was completely terrified.
***
Three years later….
“YOU LYING LITTLE BITCH!” Phil raged as he punched me hard on the right side of my face. I fell back into the wall, fighting desperately to remain on my feet. I knew the minute I crumpled to the floor I would be in real trouble.
“Phil…..please, I swear……I……I haven’t spoken to anyone” I pleaded feebly. This was not the first time I had stood, pleading in vain for Phil not to beat the crap out of me. It had happened regularly in the three years I had been with him, and the attacks were increasing in severity each time. This was the angriest I had ever seen him. He had come home that night just as I had been taking the rubbish outside to the dustbin. As I threw it in, our next-door neighbour, a young guy who lived in the house with his girlfriend, had come out to get in his car and said hello to me. Seeing Phil approach in his car and knowing it wasn’t worth my life I had bowed my head, ignored the greeting and run back inside. Phil had decided what he had seen was evidence enough that I was sleeping with the neighbour and had utterly lost it the minute he came in.
I first met Phil just a week after Matt had left the UK. I had been desperately alone and in a real mess both emotionally and physically. I was struggling to cope alone, and the loneliness had brought on a deep depression. I was barely eating or sleeping and as a result I was very weak and shaky all of the time.
I had been interviewed by Phil for a part time job at the haulage firm he owned and ran, Greystones. I got the job as a part time receptionist and Phil had worked on me from then. When I look back, I’m sure from the very first moment her met me, Phil had me pegged as an extremely easy target, but at the time I was too stupid, lonely and naive to ever even realise.
At first I found him to be very sweet and gentle. He was quite average looking, nothing special about him, just dark hair and dark eyes. He was quite short for a guy, about 5’6” and as time passed I realised this had given him something of a complex. While I was never hugely attracted to his looks, I was drawn in by his personality and also the fact that he shared a lot of my interests. He loved to read, as did I, and I loved the way he talked so enthusiastically about literature. We also seemed to have a common interest in food and travel, and I found it so easy to just chat with him. We just seemed to click; little did I realise it was all just an act on his part!
He took my virginity just two weeks after I met him. I had been unsure if I was honest. It was the first time I had seen a flash of the real Phil when he pushed me into sleeping with him, despite my reservations. I had been too young and naive to realise at the time that he was not a good guy and that I should escape while I could. Instead I fell for him and I convinced myself I loved him. I had never even had a boyfriend before, how was I to know better?
He proposed just one month into our relationship and we were married two months after that. Matt came over for the wedding and took an instant dislike to Phil. He tried to convince me that I was moving too quickly, but I was sure what I felt for Phil was love and nothing would stop me from marrying him. I was madly swept up in my feelings for him.
The abuse had actually started two nights before I married him. Matt was staying just down the hall, on the sofa in the lounge of my tiny apartment that first time. Phil had insisted on staying at my apartme
nt that night, I think because he was scared Matt would talk me out of marrying him.
We went to bed late that night and Phil instantly started groping me and trying to pull off my pyjamas and underwear. I had already started to think at this point that there was something wrong with me, because when Phil and I had sex I felt absolutely nothing happen, except the pain of him touching me roughly and hurting me. When we had sex I felt nothing, and I had certainly never experienced the spectacular climaxes I had read about in so many trashy romance novels. He liked to squeeze my neck with one hand throughout, as he held my hands tight above my head with the other so I couldn’t fight him no matter how close to passing out I would become. As a result sex with Phil very quickly became traumatic for me, and I tried to avoid it wherever possible, even at this early stage of our relationship. The combination of my hatred and fear of it and Phil’s inability to last more than a minute or so made for some awful sex and Phil blamed me. At the time I too thought it was my fault, I was far too naïve and clueless to know better. Even though it must have been blatantly obvious how much I detested and avoided sex, it never stopped Phil. He would take what he wanted whether I wanted to or not, even if I were asleep I would often be awoken by him ripping my knickers down, or pushing them aside, followed by him violently pushing into me. The pain during those times would be unbearable and I always ended up crying, but it never deterred him.
I never said a word to him thought, always thinking it was my fault. There was something wrong with me, I should want sex and I should enjoy it, shouldn’t I? So I dare not complain in those early days. I didn’t want Phil to realise I was defective and leave me all alone again. Being alone was my biggest fear. The thought of having absolutely no one was a whole lot scarier than what Phil was doing to me at that time.
That night, Matt was my excuse. When Phil started to grope at me I told him I wasn’t having sex while my brother was just down the hall. This was the first time I had ever properly denied him, and I saw something snap in his eyes. He became angry, ignored my protests and tried to hold me down while he ripped my pyjama bottoms and underwear off. Trying to remain quiet so as not to alert my brother I struggled out of his grip and hurried out of bed to my feet. Phil leapt out behind me and grabbed my hair from behind, pulling it violently until I fell to the floor, terrified of what this new, vicious Phil would do to me.
“Phil, please just let me go.” I sobbed as quietly as I could while he held me down with his foot and removed the belt from his trousers.
“You are going to be my wife Lucy. You don’t say no to me, ever!” He hissed as he folded his belt in half and started to hit my legs with it viciously. The leather cut into my skin and I tried desperately not to cry out, not wanting to wake Matt. I didn’t want him to scare away the one person I had in my life, even if that person was a monster. I needed him, I loved him. I’d caused this anger in him. He was right, I had no right to deny him when I was supposed to be his.
Phil hit me six times, then knelt down beside me and flipped me onto my back. That was the first time he raped me that night, at least the first time I saw him forcing himself on me as rape. It had happened plenty of times before, but I had labelled those as my own fault.
That night Phil had been more violent than ever before and I was in agony and sobbing throughout, but the whole time all I could think was please don’t let Matt hear me. I never wanted him to know what a mess I had gotten myself into. I had told him I could survive alone and there I was marrying a monster who had hurt me and terrified me more than I had ever been before. The worst part was I knew, deep down it wasn’t right, but I had no intention of ending it. Phil was everything I had once Matt left. I couldn’t lose him. I just placated myself by thinking what had happened was my fault and I’d be able to stop him getting that angry again by just being what he wanted me to be. I could be better for him.
Matt knew there was something wrong with me the next morning. I had cried myself to sleep that night and when I woke up the backs of my thighs were covered in huge red welts and I was in agony when I moved.
“What’s wrong Darling? You’re as white as a sheet this morning,” Matt said as he came into the kitchen for breakfast.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Just the stress of the planning the wedding I suppose.” I lied just as Phil strutted into the kitchen, looking absolutely delighted with himself.
“Morning Angel.” He chirped as he leant in to kiss my cheek. I flinched as he neared me and instantly turned to see Matt had definitely seen it. There was an angry look on his face, and I looked at him pleadingly to drop it. He stared at me a moment and then sat down with the newspaper and barely said a word until Phil left for work.
“Talk to me, now!” Matt ordered as soon as we heard Phil’s car drive away.
“About what Matt?” I asked dumbly.
“Lucy, please don’t play me for an idiot. I saw the way you jumped when he kissed you. Has he hurt you?”
“No Matt, of course not. We just argued last night and I……..I was shocked when he kissed me because I thought we weren’t speaking. I guess he dropped it though.” That was the first in a huge string of lies I told my brother over the years to hide what Phil was subjecting me to. Matt suspected. I think, deep down, he knew each time I lied to him, but because I never gave anything away, there was little he could do. The first couple of times he visited us Phil and Matt barely spoke, and it was tense and awkward, Phil took that tension out on me at night, behind our closed bedroom door. Matt seemed to pick up on this or maybe just got sick of Phil making him so unwelcome and stopped visiting, limiting his visits to just once a year and staying at a hotel when he did come. Eventually Phil forbade me to speak to my brother, as he did everyone other than him. He had already taken my mobile phone from me and forced me to quit my job at the office. I was only allowed out once a week to do the food shopping and even then he would sometimes randomly appear at the supermarket to check on me. I never really understood what he thought I would do, cheat on him I suppose, but I had no self-esteem whatsoever. I would never dare talk to a strange man anyway. He had made sure of that. He had removed me from the rest of the world and locked me in his own terror filled prison. I, too terrified to anger him, always obeyed everything he demanded, but not Matt, I would not stop talking to my brother, I would not give him up. Instead I risked my life one day and snuck out to buy a pay as you go mobile phone which I hid well in the very back of my wardrobe and used to phone Matt every now and then when I knew Phil would be out for a while. It was dangerous. If Phil found out he would seriously lose it, but calling Matt was the only light I could see in an exceptionally long, very dark tunnel. I also sometimes called Jack. He had been a good friend to me since that day I found out about my parents and we talked every now and then. I would call him in the darkest times, when I couldn’t get hold of Matt and I just needed a friendly voice to remind me what it felt like to smile and laugh. I was fairly sure Jack knew something wasn’t right in my life. He would often elude to it, but never openly raise the topic. Our phone calls were mainly him telling me about the escapades of him, Matt and their other friend, Rob. He never failed to make me laugh and there were many times that my calls to him and to Matt were the only thing that pulled me through my miserable existence, those being literally the only times I would laugh and smile. I certainly had nothing to smile about on a daily basis, yet I still blamed myself and convinced myself I could make things better. I had to, I loved Phil and I needed him.
Phil was very wealthy. He lived in a huge five-bedroom house on the outskirts of town and he liked it kept a very particular way. I was required to clean it top to bottom every single day and if he found anything out of place when he got home then I would be in for a beating. He even dictated the way my clothes were stored in the drawers and wardrobe. He chose what I wore, the clothes I could and could not buy, even my underwear. My life was no longer my own and I lived in constant fear, even when I slept. I lost all sense of who I had once been and ins
tead became a shadow of myself, moulded into the way Phil wanted me to be.
I knew deep down I should get away from him and I thought about the possibility all of the time, but I knew he would never let me go and I was terrified of even trying to get away. Also I had nowhere to go. Phil had become all I had. He was the only person I was allowed to speak to. He had me completely isolated from everyone and everything other than him. He controlled the money, my car was in his name, he even held my passport prisoner so I could never run away to Matt. I knew I could call my brother and tell him everything and he would be there, to help me get out of the mess I was in, but I was embarrassed and ashamed. I had kept myself in that situation for years and allowed Phil to beat and rape me regularly. I couldn’t bear the thought of Matt being ashamed of me. He was everything to me and the thought of losing him was more terrifying than being with Phil. More than anything though, my own guilt held me there. Guilt that it was all my fault. I had married Phil and I was his wife. I should be able to please him the way he wanted, I always messed everything up though and that’s why he got so mad. If I could just be what he wanted me to be I was sure we could be happy, and Matt would never need to know what had passed. I was so sure I loved him and that alone was enough to keep me trying in my pointless pursuit to please. I was such an idiot.
***
It was actually over two years into the marriage when Matt found out what was really going on. He was home on a visit around my birthday in early August. He was staying at a hotel in the city and he rarely came to our house since he and Phil hated each other so vehemently. I tried to get away to meet him as much as I possibly could, knowing he was only home for two weeks and just longing to be with someone who made me feel loved and safe.
Phil got angry about each and every meeting I had with Matt and I paid dearly each evening, but I didn’t care, it was worth it to be with Matt. At least when Matt was home Phil couldn’t hit my face, he would only mark me where Matt wouldn’t see.
Something Other than Fear Page 2