End

Part one: The end

Dina had been begging for help this whole time but no one cared enough to do anything. She was in an extremely abusive relationship for too long. He beat her black and blue, tore up her belongings, broke gifts she received, broke her heart by trying to be with other women. All of that and so much more. She was fiery and sweet but always spoke up for herself.

She had tried to trickle in secrets and small truths to her family about the dangers and abuse that she had been going through with this longtime boyfriend since the beginning. She had tried to leave hundreds of times. He would tear up physical money and dump household groceries, like flour, honey, hot sauce and oil over her whole body and hair. He tore into her trusting confidence and loving, caring heart with cutting insults and demands that were inhumane.

Her tried to tear down her spirit too but had not managed to do this.

The last straw came when he was starting to get aggressive with their children and being emotionally abusive to them. She decided to finally start working on telling the truth of what was really going on. Terrified he would get violent if she told someone everything, it was only a matter of time until she felt she would end up dead from the extreme physical abuse.

Dead. That’s how she really felt. Especially now knowing how cold her own mother was during the most difficult time of her life.

“Mom, I don’t feel safe. The kids aren’t safe. Can we please live with you back at the house?”

“No we’re selling the house. Dad doesn’t want you there. I can’t live with you,” her mother says.

“Mom I’ll do anything. I’ll live my life and you’ll live yours. I’ll cook and clean. I will do everything and anything to make this work.”

“We can’t do it. I can’t do that. I need to sell the house.”

“Mom, I can’t go back there. It’s not safe for your grandchildren. Please,” Dina cries.

“We just can’t do it. Can’t you resolve it with him?” The mother responds.

Dina gives her mom an incredulous look, “Mom I’ve been trying to fix things without any tangible solutions. I’ve tried to leave this whole sixteen year relationship since the beginning. I’ve told you of our issues before. But it’s not safe for my kids. It’s not safe for me.”

The answer is a dull no. The laundry is washed and dried at the laundromat.

“Me and your father have to go to a festival. I’m driving you home,” The mother says calmly.

She drives her daughter and grandchildren off at the apartment with the boyfriend.

“Aww, did she say no?” The boyfriend mocks with a fake concern.

The end.

———

Extra bonus end

Another unrelated scenario after the fact that Dina is abused by her boyfriend again and is at her mom’s house:

Dina has a terrible migraine. She is sleeping on her mother’s bed next to her two year old. The other child that’s five is in the living room. This is Dina’s childhood home where she grew up. Her parents are divorcing and her mother is still dead set on selling the house.

“GET UP! You need to leave!” The mother screams at the daughter and sleeping child.

“Mom, please, I’m sick. I feel so dizzy and nauseated and I’m in pain, please let us stay here…” Dina weakly pleads, crying.

“No. You need to all leave. I need to take a shower, eat dinner and watch tv and relax,” the mother tells her daughter matter-of-factly.

“Relax? What? Mom, I need help, I can’t go back there. Please,” Dina cries.

They negotiate the mom buying the other child a cheap pizza and then leaving. Her child eats dinner and is dropped off at the boyfriend’s apartment again.

Cementing the painful reality that even her own mother refuses to help her during this process of being severely abused…

It’s not until years later when she finally tells everyone that she’s been abused by the boyfriend that she acts caring and wants to let her daughter and grandchildren move in now.

“It’s too late. It is too late now,” Dina says.

“What did you think it meant when I said we were not safe living with him?” Dina cries to her mom. “Isn’t it common sense? Even my boyfriend told you on the phone several times he wasn’t treating me right, you knew more than you pretend you say to others and to me. You insult my intelligence by pretending that you had no idea. I gave you more than clues, I gave you more than hints.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” she echoes carelessly as she goes to bars, dancing and drinking and talking to men.