Broken: An Abuse Survivor's Tale💜Part 2

Ch 2: Then Came Control and Obsession

The night of our wedding still lingered in my mind to this day. For him to have treated me so harshly for something so innocuous was beyond me. Nothing up to that point led me to believe he would be so... possessive and jealous.

Occasionally, there were moments where he would stop men from flirting or buying me drinks at the casino, but I never thought any of it. Figured we were in an exclusive sexual relationship, and he did not want to share. An act of endearment, nothing else. Fast-forward to now, and I realized I should have stood up for myself.

Our honeymoon was bittersweet. Yes, the Bahamas were gorgeous. Lush greenery, sparkling sandy beaches, and a luxurious five-star resort with all the amenities I could ever want. All with employees who would attend to our every need. However, the excitement was overshadowed by Michael's behavior. It became worse as the trip went on.

The first two days were mostly us lounging around, drinking cocktails, and screwing like animals in the suite's hot tub. Day three is when the problems started. Because of the irritated bite mark, I couldn't wear any of my dresses, halter tops, or bikinis. Leaving me with cut-off jean shorts and a few modest frilly tops. When I heard I would be honeymooning in the Bahamas, I bought every cute, skimpy thing I could find.

Thanks to Michael, I couldn't wear any of them.

Wearing the only things I could, Michael and I explored the resort. It was mostly pools, lounging areas, restaurants, bars, and a few dance club areas. The second tour guide gave us a map of the hotspots we should see before leaving. Michael refused to be assisted by the first one. He was a young, attractive male with a relaxed nature. I ignored that strange request and followed him loyally. How stupid I was back then.

Olana, our guide, took us all over the resort area on a golf cart. While all of it was impressive, I wanted to see something... different. So I asked to go do something fun. Michael rolled his eyes at me like a petulant child. How horribly immature for a grown man, I thought to myself in secret. Never daring to speak it out loud.

God knows what he would do to me if I did.

She led us to Deadman's Reef. It's a popular area for snorkeling and diving because it has the largest collection of natural coral reefs. Some articles say portions of it are man-made balls of synthetic reef. I don't know about all of that, but I desperately wanted to have fun, so I didn't care.

Thankfully, we had to wear wetsuits for snorkeling. Nobody needed to see the awful things my 'loving' husband did to me behind closed doors.

Olana provided us each with an underwater camera, so that we could 'capture the magic'. Giddy with excitement, I took photos of the gorgeous beach area, myself, Michael, and Olana. Before we got into the water. My husband didn't like this at all. In fact, he tore the camera away from me, then slammed it onto the ground, and finally, stomped it until it was shattered into pieces.

He growled an explanation, "You'll get plenty of photos in the water! Stop being so childish, Lyda!"

Tears threatened to fall, but I forced them back. Forcing myself to smile, I replied in my most sincere voice, "Yes, dear, whatever you say."

Olana gave me a sympathetic smile.

Michael stared at me as I said it. Trying to assess whether I was being a smartass. He decided I wasn't and grinned in triumph. I shouldn't have said it because that phrase became my undoing for almost the next decade.

The snorkeling tour continued without incident, and without my dignity intact.

For the rest of our trip, I followed everything Michael wanted. Even if it made me feel awful. The most mortifying moment happened at a dance club. We went out drinking and dancing, actually enjoying ourselves for once. Felix, the bartender, announced they were doing a 'shot line up'. This meant that all the men and women willing to do so would line up and have tequila poured into their navels. Men, women, or both would slurp the drink up, lick the salt along their stomach, then kiss the lime out of their mouth.

A very naughty celebration in my opinion. It's something I would never do back at home.

Michael whispered in my ear, breath reeking of whiskey, "Go up there. Only let girls drink from you." He pressed my hand into his pants, showing me the idea turned him on. "Put on a show for your husband."

Being the loyal, obedient wife I was, I hopped onto the bar and had Felix set me up for the lineup. Soon after, men and women arrived at the bar in hopes of taking a shot. As requested by my 'beloved' husband, I only let women drink from my navel, and I French kissed them each time they took the lime. Michael made eye contact with me and squeezed his groin, meaning it made him very happy. Thankfully, it only lasted about ten minutes. After that, we left.

Once we got back to our room, we started frantically making out. Finally, something that will make us both feel connected. Like a real married couple.

Michael ripped my clothes off in chunks as a woman appeared behind us. She grabbed my breast firmly.

He whispered in my ear, firmly covering his bite mark, "She enjoyed the kiss earlier. I invited her to be our toy for the night."

Bile rose in my throat. I wanted to turn around and projectile vomit all over Michael. I knew what he was doing. He was using a piece of information I gave him in confidence as leverage. I hooked up with a girl I knew in high school. She was curious, so was I, we both felt weird afterward, and then never spoke again. While it did feel good, I didn't enjoy it like I do men. Strictly dickly, I told Michael. Evidently, he only heard 'oh, I'm sooo down for a threesome on our honeymoon!'.

The woman slid her hand down my stomach, then Michael stopped her.

"No touching my wife there. She's going to touch you, while I fuck her." Michael explained, intense lust filled his eyes. He pointed at a chair in the corner. "Sit there and watch us. We'll come to you when it's time."

Michael then pushed me onto our bed, propped my hips up, and fucked me deeply. He was moving so fast I thought he would rip my vagina to pieces. When he came, he brought me over to the other woman and winked.

The rest of the night... was a horrible blur of betrayal, disgust, and shame. Something I prayed would never happen again.

But it did, multiple times. Over and over for years.

Always another woman, me... playing with her, and Michael fucking me while watching. It made me feel so dirty, used, and betrayed. Honestly, after the first time, I threw up everywhere. After the nausea subsided, I contemplated taking myself out of the equation. Permanently. Because how was I going to live with myself knowing that I let my husband use me like that? That I tolerated it for so long?

The answer was, with great difficulty.

If anyone you know is being abused, suspected of being abused, or are a victim yourself, there is help available. Local shelters and organizations are a good way to start. However, if more in-depth help is needed, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233.

And remember, love shouldn't hurt.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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