A Toxic Kind of Love

I'm laying in a hospital bed, spilling my guts. I'm telling my family everything about Ben. Things I was never able to tell them due to being kept away from everyone. I share about the drugs, I share about the abuse, I share about the forced shoplifting (I'll get into that more here soon). My mind was a literal melted bowl of ice cream at this time. I thought I had almost died via OD like a week prior and that a demon jumped into my body while I was at the brink of death to save me and inhabit my soul. I remember even telling my grandmother that I am bisexual. Something I swore to never tell her because I was afraid she would stop loving me. I told all of my deepest secrets, about how I've needed help for a long time. I shared about how I was raped at 15, and how I was kidnapped and sexually abused by a "boy-friend" at 17. The look of shock and sadness in my grandmothers eyes will never leave me. I will forever have the look of my mothers serious yet saddened eyes as she tells me to never do something like this again. I knew she was frightened, and I knew she was hurt. I knew that I caused that by my selfish actions. I was eventually whisked away to a mental rehabilitation hospital, Hickory Trail.

I'll be brief about my stay at Hickory Trail. I only stayed 3 days. I should have stayed for 2 weeks at the least. I hate to admit this, but the entire time I was there, all I could think about was Ben. How I missed Ben, how I loved Ben. How I was upset he would treat me this way, but if I could just talk to Ben, I could make him understand or change. It sickens me to look back at how I acted. Once I was admitted and in my wing, I decided I would call the house phone. It was the only number I had memorized. Susan picked up and sounded very concerned. She told me she missed me and that she hoped I was okay. I asked her how Ben was doing. Very somberly she informed me that he was not well. That after my grandma picked me up he went ape shit. He thought I left, like broke up and left and went to my friend Amy's house. He took a butcher knife to most of my clothes, broke my smart phone that I had for when I was able to afford service on it, destroyed most of my possessions and threatened a few of my friends and family on Facebook. He destroyed the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. Ripped the shower head out of the wall, broke the cabinet under the sink. Just ripped it up. Susan told me Ben was sleeping at the moment but she would let him know I called.

I think it was the next day that I called back and spoke with Ben. He was sober and confused. I explained what happened and he said he didn't remember any of it. He sounded concerned. He was worried about me, but he also denied putting his hands on me. We spoke for a few minutes. He said he missed me, and that he would get clean. He wanted me to come home. He kept telling me he needed me and that he loved me. I was skeptical, but I enjoyed hearing him tell me he loved me.

While in the mental rehab I learned quite a few things about myself and about others. I made connections and I should have stayed longer. On day 3 I left and had Susan and Ben pick me up. My family was devastated. They wanted me to stay and get the help I so desperately needed and then move in with my grandmother after. I think it broke them the most when I didn't call them to come pick me up, and I instead had Ben and Susan come get me. After they picked me up, we went to a grocery store. While there, Susan shop lifted a few beers and Ben shop lifted a box of triple c's. He had promised me he would quit, but once he had my back into his possession, he just kept doing what he wanted to do. He framed it as he needed to ween himself off. That quitting cold turkey could kill him or seriously damage his body. A load of shit if I ever heard one.

I get back to the house and I just feel uneasy. I am not happy. I know things need to change, and I am willing to make the changes necessary. The first night back was nice. I don't remember there being any fighting, or any sadness. Things were okay for about a week. Ben did not stop consuming the DXM. We fought more and more frequently and I began having my mom pick me up so I could get away for a while. Ben hated that. He wanted to go everywhere with me. He would not let me out of his sight. It was like I was bound to a human shadow. So we would fight about that. After I was discharged from the mental rehab I decided that I needed to see a therapist. So I enrolled with a free clinic in my town. Ben would not let me go to therapy alone. In fact, while in office waiting to be seen one day, we got into an argument and he just decided he would leave. Walked out and just left. Said he was going to walk to a store to go get some cough syrup. I was livid. I was so angry. I went into my therapy session and vented my frustrations to which my therapist said very adamantly that I needed to remove myself from my relationship and living situation. I mean I knew I needed to, I just couldn't physically do it. Anyway, something ended up happening, he came back and tried to hug me or kiss me or something and I told him no. He got angry and began to try and force me to kiss him. I began yelling, we were in an elevator at this point and I just would not shut up. I wanted everyone in that entire building to know that something bad was happening to me and that it was not okay. Well we get to the car, and we always sat in the back seat together. We kept fighting and Ben decided that while the car was in motion, that he would fling open the back door and try to jump out. I should have let him do it. But instead I grabbed him by the collar of his tee shit and pulled him back into the car.

I should have let him do it. Maybe then what happened to me next would never have had to happen. Not even two weeks after I tried to commit suicide, Ben got violent again. I had woke up one morning and he was already high. We argued and I went to take a shower. I was severely depressed again and while in the shower, I broke apart my leg razor and took one of the blades. I began to cut my legs. Not to try and kill myself this time, but to just feel pain, to see blood. As I can never have any type of alone time, Ben comes in there, see's me and makes me get out of the shower to talk to him. I do not remember exactly what was said, but I remember what happened. We we're arguing bad, I told him I wanted to break up. That I needed to call my mom and tell her to come get me. He told me no, he wouldn't let me do that. I tried to settle and say that I was just going to go over there to cool down and get some space. He would not let me do that either. So I "calmed" down and walked into our room. I remembered that I had an old iPod touch that had my Facebook on it. I would causally go in the room, grab it and ask a friend to come pick me up. Just as I get the iPod on, and start to open Facebook, Ben comes flying into the room. He practically tackles me on the bed and wrestles me until he gets the iPod free. At this point I am yelling and screaming and pleading for him to get off of me. He then grabs me, with my arms locked by my side and squeezes me so tight. I beg him to let me go and he would not. I was starting to not be able to breathe. His mom finally decides she will interrupt and walks by his door and yells at him to leave me alone. She is in tears, and she tells Ben "you're just like your father." Meanwhile he's repeatedly trying to shush me, by telling me he's just trying to help.

I get out of his lock and run into the living room. He chases me and so does Susan. Susan is scared. She has seen Ben like this before, but only toward his father. I grab a bag, and walk out the back door. I was prepared to walk miles into town. I just wanted out. Well apparently while I was outside, Ben and Susan got into an altercation in which Susan ended up on the ground, her ankle was swollen and she was just screaming for help. Ben put his hands around her mouth and told her to shut up and he ran outside to get me. Ben came around the corner of the house, grabbed me by my arm and told me to get inside. I know a lot of you may be wondering why I didn't fight back. A little insight into my life: I have always been over weight. I've always been curvy and thick but at this point in time, I was UNDER weight. I was under weight due to stress, and due to the drugs. I had no strength to fight back. I just could not do it. So he escorted me into the house and at that time his mom was sitting on the couch. I sat down on the couch and did not make a peep. He stood there and talked down to us both. Telling each of us that we needed to calm down, and that we were crazy. I didn't engage. All I could think about was grabbing the house phone and calling someone, anyone, to get away.

Please read part 5 for the phone call and how I ended up getting to the police station.