by B. M. Hardin
Once alone, I began to cry. I cried because I was scared. I cried because I was hurt. I cried because I wanted out. Oh, God how I wanted out. My fairytale had turned into a complete nightmare. The only difference but at the end of a nightmare, luckily you get to wake up. But I was already awake.
My life just never seemed to be what it was supposed to be. All of my financial problems were gone but now I had more emotional problems than I could count.
The more I thought about my messed up situation, the more tears I began to shed. I cried hard and so loud that he peeped his head in the door. I said nothing to him, pretending that I hadn’t noticed him there and I just continued to wail. Still, he remained quiet.
I must have stayed in the bathtub for over two hours. I didn’t want to get out. I didn’t want to face him. But the main reason I forced myself out was because I was so, so hungry. My daughter hadn’t been properly fed all day and she wasn’t letting up. Her mind was on food, but my mind just couldn’t seem to get off of her daddy.
I just didn’t know what I was going to do or how I was going to get away from him. By now I knew he wasn’t going to just sit back and freely let me leave. I mean he damn near chained me to a bed all day, so I knew trying to get away from him was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
I walked out of the bathroom with freedom and food on the brain. When I stepped into our bedroom, I immediately caught sight of roses and candles everywhere.
There also sat a bear, a card and a package on the bed. Marcus was also waiting, with a tray full of all my favorite pregnant foods. He could hardly look at me and kept his eyes on the floor. I shook my head. This was the sweet romantic man that I knew. Or the man that went above and beyond to make me happy, or to put a smile on my face. But this was not going to win me over.
Well maybe the food would for just a little while.
Again, instinctively, and while I took a bite of the meat lovers pizza with ketchup on top, I began to cry.
I couldn’t say anything, I just cried. He attempted to comfort me but I flinched at his touch. He moved away and gave me some distance. He sat still, still unable to give me eye contact, allowing me to eat. He knew I was hungry. And I knew he felt so bad for what he had done. But it just wasn’t enough.
I turned my attention to read the letters on the front of the card which said “Please Don’t Go" but my question was why, and how could I stay?
I would be a fool to stay. But would I be an even bigger fool to leave? Reality was, I was having a baby and whether I was ready or not she was on her way. In the long run, without Marcus, how was I going to support her? Eventually the money I had stashed would run out. And then what?
We never said a word to each other. Once I finished eating, he put lotion on my body and tucked me in. I just couldn’t stop myself from crying. I was so overwhelmed; I was so miserable.
He asked if he could join me in the bed and when I didn’t respond he made himself comfortable on the couch across the room.
My dreams that night were of us, the old us. When we were, when I was happy. He used to make me so happy.
Could we ever get back to that place? Where did things go wrong? I tried to figure out how things had gotten to be so bad and I concluded that they were what they were and in my opinion they were broken beyond repair.
Somehow my mind cut my dreams short as I remembered that he hadn’t handcuffed me that night and for just a split second and though against my better judgment, I decided that I was going to make a run for it, only to wake up to a rude awakening. He was sitting right beside me and already awake.
~ ******************~
*~Unfortunately things aren’t always what they seem. But bad or good they are always what they are supposed to be. Some things are meant to break you and others are meant to make you. The good thing is that the things that break you tend to contribute to the very thing that will make you a better, smarter, brighter you*~
~*Anonymous
*Chapter Seven*
Though the baby shower was full of laughter and love, in the inside, my mind, heart and soul were drowning in the sea of sorrows. I watched Marcus as he mingled with the guests. He seemed to be his charming, bubbly old self. But I knew the truth about him. I knew his secret. And that man was none other than Satan himself.
For the past month, he had spent most of his time at home with me. He even worked from home. My guess was to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn’t try to leave him. Even when I would go out he never seemed to say anything but would be waiting at the front door for my return. He would simply look at me, let out a deep sigh and walk away. It was almost as if he didn’t expect me to return. I was crazy as hell for always coming back, but I was pregnant, and to leave him right now just didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do.
Being pregnant was enough in itself, and trying to find a place to live, and trying to keep Marcus off my back was just too much stress to take on at the moment. So my best option, for the time being, was for my pregnant ass to stay put.
We hadn’t said much to each other since the last incident. Though there hadn’t been another, I didn’t know what he wanted from me. I was still so angry with him. But he didn’t seem to care or maybe it was that he wanted to pretend as though none of it had ever happened because every day he did something sweet for me in attempt to win my back my heart and love.
Literally, every single day, he didn’t miss a beat. It had been a month full of good deeds and gestures.
Everyday had begun with or ended with a surprise, something that would have made me smile or glow, or fall in love with him all over again but I just wouldn’t allow myself to forgive him or give in. At least I tried not to.
Two weeks ago was my birthday. I knew he was going to do something for me, that was a given, but never did I think that he would have planned this big Cinderella Ball, just for me.
The house was decorated wonderfully and everyone was pleasantly dressed in their gowns and tuxes. It was such an elegant affair and he had prepared it all by himself. Even the sky blue dress that he had picked out especially for me complemented my curves and my baby bump perfectly. He placed a crown full of diamonds and rubies on my head and told me that I would always be the queen of his heart. I have to admit, it made me feel good in the inside. It made me feel like there was hope for us after all.
On that day, hope was the one thing I felt the most. I felt like we could work it out, make amends. But I was only kidding myself.
At the baby shower, I tried my best to wear a fake smile and for the sake of the presence of his colleagues and family, I even gave him fake affection. He knew that it was hard for me and had even mouth the words "Thank You" in the distance.
I just couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what had to happen for him to act out the way he did. He really was a good man and I think my biggest problem was that that's what I kept telling myself.
Remembering how he used to be was what kept me hanging on. He was genuinely a good person but maybe he just had some split personalities that he had failed to tell me about, or show. I really didn’t know what it was but I didn’t like it and I was sure that I couldn’t live or deal with it too much long. My plan was to have our daughter and then work on getting out. I just had to get out.
Once everyone rubbed my belly and said their goodbyes, I was almost sad to see them go. At least with everyone there I felt safe. Whenever we were all alone, I was so uncomfortable, scared even. I felt like I never knew what he was up to or what he was going to do.
I showered and prepared myself for bed. He came in and sat beside of me.
He touched my stomach. He had known that I had been contracting so he began to gently rub it. For the first time in a while, I allowed it. I couldn’t believe that we were to the point where he was considered lucky to even touch me and were we hardly ever spoke.
It was almost as if he was scared to say anything and well, I, just didn’t have anything to say. What was I supposed to say?
> I for damn sure didn’t want to say the wrong thing so I said nothing at all most of the time. More so I kept my silence and distance because I knew he was the worst kind of crazy, and pregnant, I was defenseless.
All of a sudden, surprisingly, he spoke.
“I can't wait to meet her." he whispered.
I smiled. A fake smile of course. He couldn’t tell the difference.
"I'll have my queen and my princess. That’s all I ever wanted."
I kept the smile plastered on my face but my heart was laughing at him. I don’t know what the hell he was talking about, as sure as a bear took a dump in the woods, as soon as the baby was born; I was taking my daughter and getting the hell out of there.
~***~
The next morning I woke up in unbearable pain. I screamed at the top of my lungs from the pain that I felt. Not from contractions... but from Marcus.
He was ramming something up my ass, and with all of his might. I knew it wasn’t his penis from his position but whatever it was, it was hard, sharp and it was piercing the inside of my rectal with unbelievable pain. In the midst of my screams, Marcus was going on and on about how I was ungrateful and how I always treated him like a dog, when all he tried to do was make me happy.
What the hell was he talking about? We had gone to bed just fine.
I had even let him hold me last night and all of a sudden I have to wake up to this?
“Please, Marcus, you’re hurting me." I was crying and screaming all at the same time. He was pushing whatever it was so far up my ass that I could almost feel it in my stomach. My butthole felt as though it was ripping and as though it was on fire. My whole body was on fire. I was sure that I was about to faint.
"Marcus please, please. You're hurting me and the baby please." I begged.
At the word baby he halted. It must have triggered his 'sane' side to take over. He jumped off the bed and looked at me as though I was doing something strange. I screamed so loud that if we had had neighbors close enough, I know they would have heard me. But unfortunately, we didn’t.
“Baby oh, god, what’s wrong what happened to you" he asked and dropped whatever it was he was holding in his hand and ran to the bathroom.
I looked, quickly, eagerly at the object on the floor.
Can you believe that he had been ramming the end of a broken broomstick up my ass? A broomstick...really? It was covered in so much blood that I could only imagine the damage that he had done to me. How could he do this to me?
This was crazy! He was crazy! I couldn’t take this anymore!
Marcus returned with a wet towel.
“Get the hell away from me!” I screamed.
He stared at me and then continued to try to help.
“Get away from me!”
“No." he said bluntly. And continued wiping me off.
He was a nut sack. A true mental case. He was going to kill me if I didn’t get away from him and soon.
Lord, I know I asked for stability and a better life but no amount of money was worth this.
I would rather be still waiting tables than to be going through this. God, please help me, please.
Out of nowhere and without my permission, my hand smacked him across the face. And then it smacked him again and again. I was in so much pain, that him hitting me back was the least of my problems, but he didn’t. I snatched away from him and tried to stand but I was so, so sore.
He tried to help me to the bathroom but I kept swatting him away like the psycho-fly that he was. I had to tell someone. Someone had to help me.
In the bathroom I wiped my bottom and I immediately became disturbed by the amount of blood that came from it.
I needed to get out of here was all I could say to myself. I said it loud enough were he could here because I knew he was somewhere close, listening. I just wanted out.
I was in so much pain that when I tried to stand the pain forced me to retake my seat. Fluids started to run down my legs and I realized that I was going to have to leave the bathroom sooner than I wanted to. My water broke.
~***~
I looked at him as he kissed our daughter. As far as I was concerned he could have her, if that meant getting away from him. Yes, it was an awful thing to think or say but no matter what he did, I was going to get away from him one way or another.
“Here baby, hold her."
I shook my head and turned over. I could hardly look at her because she looked so much like him. And I hated the sight of him. Throughout all the hurt and anger, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to change now that we had her.
No, I doubt it. He had mental issues that only medicine was going to help him fix. And personally, I was tired of trying to figure out how to help him. He or his craziness was his problem, not mine.
Lying there, I also wondered why the doctor failed to say anything about the blood coming from my bottom. He didn’t say one word about it. I remembered Marcus pulling him to the side when we first arrived. My guess was he probably fed him one of his lies or paid him off one.
“Bitch, I asked you nicely to hold your daughter, and that's what I meant." he growled, gripping my hair, stealing me away from my thoughts.
I guess that answered my question.
I cried and reached for her in despair and disappointment. I didn’t want to hold her, I didn’t want to be around her or him, I just wanted to go, and get as far away from him as possible. I scowled myself for feeling that way I did toward the baby, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t change the way I felt.
Marcus continued to curse and verbally abuse me. I attempted to tune him out but he only got louder and louder. Suddenly, it hit me. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. I was in a public place and I had help.
As if he had read my mind he tried to snatch the remote with the help button, but he was too late.
“Yes, would you like me to take the baby to the nursery?"
“No, I would like you to call security and get them to make my husband to leave. Now!"
~***~
Tell me something, who beats up a woman who had just had a baby? I had succeeded with getting him removed from the hospital. I had actually enjoyed the remaining time with my precious angel. With Marcus gone, I realized that Kimbrella was the most precious thing in the world to me and I thanked God for her. I enjoyed every minute with her but as soon as those two days were up, I knew I had to go home. And he was outside waiting for me. I had also called in one of my sisters in, all the way from Alabama. I was going to get on that plane that very day and fly me and my baby far, far away from him. Health wise, it wasn’t the brightest idea, but it sure as hell seemed like the best one to me. But he was already there when the nurse rolled us outside and stated unless I wanted to make a scene, I'd better get my ass in the car. I never even saw my sister.
I was sure she was there because my cell went off maybe a hundred times but he held my purse tight between his inner thighs as he drove.
Since he was a lawyer in all, he threatened to take our daughter from me. Though I had said the words about him having her before, of course I hadn’t meant them. I loved her and she was my daughter. I couldn’t imagine my life without her now that she was here. He would have to kill me before I let him have her.
All the way home, I endured blow after blow to my face and my head. I was too weak to fight back so he took advantage of the situation. He spat on me, called me names, threatened to make me pay for having him leave the hospital.
Wasn’t I already paying for it? Why the hell else was he pounding on me?
Luckily, by the time we had gotten home he was through with his fit because he didn’t touch me once we were out the car.
He got our daughter and headed toward the crowd of his family that was waiting outside of the house. He locked the gate behind us, assuming he wanted to make sure my sister couldn’t get in if she was following.
I walked right past the crowd, with my head hung low so they couldn’t see my swelling eye or
my bloody nose.
Lord, what was I going to do?
~*************~
~* Women go through so much, just to have someone say that they love them. Learn to love yourself, put yourself first, and everything else will follow.*~
~*Anonymous
*Chapter Eight*
Baby Kimbrella, was growing so fast, like a weed, every single day. She was almost two months now, and I was getting more than excited as it grew closer and closer to her first Christmas.
Now more than anything, I just wanted her to have the best life possible, even if it meant that mine wasn’t going to be so good.
Marcus and I still were not on the best of terms. The ass whoopings’ were more frequent now, mostly because I would refuse to have sex with him. He would make himself believe that I was giving it to someone else and everything would go downward from there. It was weird that he would even go there, being that I hardly ever even left the house. I guessed in his mind I was ordering dick in a basket and having it delivered to the front door. Who knew just what he was thinking...and who cares.
I had gotten so tired of the fighting that I barely even tried to fight back. Ain’t it a sad, sad thing when you welcome the ass whoopings? When you get to a point where you're just ready for it to start so it can be over because you had other, better things to do?
That's what my life had become. Sure, it would have been easier to simply just give myself to him, but I just didn’t want to. I wouldn’t have cared if he had cheated as long as I didn’t have to please him. I was already doing him a favor by staying with him, and that’s all he was getting out of me.
We hadn’t even been married a year yet but I had the scars and bruises to last a lifetime. Inside and out. This was hands down the worst decision I had ever made. But now that I had a daughter, it wasn’t just about me. I had to make some sacrifices. I had to make sure that she would be well taken care of. Although he was awful to me, of course his daughter had his heart. He had her spoiled rotten. Some nights as I cleaned up from a beat down, I would hear him singing to her, and telling her stories.