The Cost of Freedom

Freedom comes in many different shapes and forms, either way, freedom is something we all want and thrive for. Some have freedom without even trying, freedom is just there. Then there are some that must fight for it and fight hard just to never get it. Men and women fight in wars for our country to have freedom for all of us. Parents fight for just an hour of freedom for themselves. Some of us fight for freedom in a different way, my fight for freedom is different than most but all too familiar to some.

I was eighteen years old when I met my son’s father. It wasn’t love at first sight, but in my young immature eyes, it turned into what I thought was love. He was quiet and to himself, but that’s just what he wanted me to see. After about a month of being together, he raped me but said it was okay because he loved me. I sadly believed him. Sometime later and still with him, it was revealed to me that he was a very bad man. I say man because I was eighteen and he was twenty-seven, he was not only selling drugs but using them as well. This type of lifestyle was all too new to me and one I didn’t really like, at all. Again, I stayed because at this point I thought it was real love. It was around this time that I would see all different types of people coming and going from his house where I had lived as well. It was a small ugly house also known as a trap house. Well known to drug addicts and prostitutes. Also very known to those affiliated with the mafia. After a little over a year, he continued to do with me as he pleased even if I said no. I got pregnant after one of those times when no meant it was okay for him to have his way with me. As miserable as I was, I was happy about being pregnant, scared but happy. Sadly after one of his alcoholic and drug-induced rampages he beat me so bad it killed my baby which I would later find out was dead inside of me.

A few months after my miscarriage I got pregnant again, this time I was able to give birth to my son. This one he didn’t get the chance to take away from me. And so begins my fight for my freedom. The abuse got worse, the beatings more and more on a regular basis. I tried many times to leave him but my life and my family's lives were immediately threatened by him. He also threatened to steal my son and take him so far into Mexico that I would never see him again. So I was forced to stay with him. I was miserable but I knew as long as I stayed with him and let him claim me as his property, my son and family would be safe. He had connections in Mexico and Texas because of his affiliation with the Mexican Mafia. So I feared and knew his threats weren’t just words.

I feared daily for my life as well as my son’s life. I stayed with this man for years and I took every beating, every broken bone, every threat just to make sure he wouldn’t take my son away from me.

One night when my son was only two years old I witnessed him performing unthinkable acts on a toy. Acts that only grown adults do in the privacy of their own homes. I was in shock! I quickly grabbed my son as I cried and drove to my parents' house. Where he was asked where he learned that from. I called the police and made a report where CPS got involved as well. However, they never did anything helpful at all. My son eventually said his dad did things to him and touched him in his private area. I was broken and felt defeated. I had no idea what to do. When I got myself together I went to my son’s father’s house to let him know that someone had done things to my son. His reaction was one of those of a guilty person. He slammed his fists on the counter and yelled, “how could you do this to me?” I stood in shock. That was a confession. He had just admitted to hurting my son, his son. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it! No one listened, not the police, not child protective services, no one. I was stuck.

I was angry, scared, and hurt, I knew I had to do something but what? I needed our freedom away from this horrible so-called man. Being with someone that has affiliations as he did, it wasn’t that simple. I couldn’t just take my son and drive away. He would find us and kill me and take my son. I couldn’t let him take away more than he already had. I needed to fight and fight hard for the freedom of not only my son but myself.

One day his cousin, which at the time was above my son’s father in rank with their affiliation, was at his house, so I pulled him to the side and spoke to him about what was happening. He looked at me then got up and walked out of the room. He left me there sitting with no word as to what was going to happen. I sat there and cried silently. He returned to the room I was in and handed me a phone. I slowly grabbed the phone and listened. The voice of a man I had never heard before spoke to me. He spoke gently but sternly to me and said words that I will never forget. Words that rang through my ears and straight to my heart. I felt numb as I listened. My body began shaking as tears fell from my eyes. At that moment I knew that the day I had been waiting for, for so many years had finally arrived. The day my son and I got our freedom. Freedom that came at a very high price. The freedom that I fought for and begged for was finally here. The man on the phone said to me, “get your son and don’t ever come back. We’ll take care of him.” Him being my son’s father, the man that not only took everything from me but also took from my son.

I wished every day that I could have made different choices in life and would have never looked twice at that so-called man. Then I think if I hadn’t I would have never had my son. So as hard as it is for people to imagine, I am glad and happy for the son I have despite the hell I went through to keep him.

Freedom is a privilege and should never be taken for granted. We must all thank those that fight for our freedom and those that fight for the freedom of others that cannot fight for themselves. My prayers go out to everyone that is in a hard situation. Just keep on fighting and know you can also have the freedom that we all thrive for.