A Letter to My Abuser

Last January I met you at the bar across the street from where I lived. I never saw you there before and by looking at you, I could tell I was interested. You were sitting next to two guys and talking after you ordered a beer.

I wanted to approach you but I did not have the courage. My friend who was with me suggested she go up and talk to you. I was already three Moscow mules deep and the bartender knows that I like them strong. I remember just saying fuck it, I have nothing to lose. She approached him and I soon followed suit. I discovered that you worked as a trader, were seven years older than me, and your name. I was heavily drunk at this point and I decided to take you home.

We saw a lot of each other after that and decided to become exclusive—something I realized I jumped way too quickly into because of my fear of loneliness. I liked the idea of having someone to call mine, no matter who that person was.

It wasn't much longer until I realized I made a mistake with you. You were always drunk and when you were drunk you started fighting with me. We would go out and when I would bring my friends your mood would change, you would visibly act like something was wrong but refuse to tell me.

We went to a bar with several of my friends from work one night. I told you I knew that three people would be coming, but instead, all of my five co-workers arrived and brought plus ones. You acted like a child, you called me a shithead, you thought it would just be you and me when I specifically told you it wouldn't be. I fought with you, I told you never to call me names again and you said, "I didn't think it was that big of a deal." I pulled you outside because I started to cry and I didn't want my friends to think anything was wrong. We began to walk home, you tried to leave the check to all of my friends as if they owed you something. You called me a joke. My friend came outside before we got far and asked if I was okay. She said, "Let him leave, come back to all of us and have a good time." For some reason, I thought it was best to go back to my apartment alone with him.

The first frightening instance I had with you was when my friend stopped by to hang out for a bit. He didn't give me a specific time, he just said he'll see me later. That was fine because I didn't have anything really planned. It was just you and me going to have dinner at home. There was a knock on the door at around 9 PM. You asked me who it was and I said my friend was stopping by. Instantly shit hit the fan. My friend is a very tall guy, about 6'5'' with curly blonde hair but with sweet and loving energy. I instantly felt relieved when he arrived because I was no longer alone with you.

You ran into my room and I told you that we had to run to 7-11 really quick and for him to come with me. All I got from you was a "Fuck you" and two middle fingers. Once outside my apartment, you kept making fun of me for being friends with someone like that. Calling him a douchebag, saying how embarrassed you are of me because I decided to call him my friend. I knew you were just jealous, so I didn't say anything. We got to 7-11 and you bought a pack of cigarettes after you said to me "Look at what you're doing, you're making me smoke."

When we got back, in the hallway I said: "You're really acting unfairly."

I will never forget the way you reacted to that comment. You immediately turned around, the look on your face was feral, your hands went up like you were going to grab me. I backed away. You said before we got back into the apartment "You're going to make him leave." So I did. I told my friend something came up and he needs to leave. He looked at you, and then back at me. He knew something was up, he's not dumb, it was obvious.

I can't believe I let myself be alone with you after that. With my roommate gone. I was really scared. You pulled me into my room and closed the door. We sat on the floor. I let you call me all sorts of names, I let you make fun of my friends because I was afraid of you. I said I wanted you to leave, you would get up and say "Okay. It was nice knowing you" but you wouldn't leave the room. As if you were waiting for me to change my mind. I wasn't going to.

To make myself feel safer I gave you some marijuana. It made you softer, more tolerable, less scary. I decided you could stay.

There was a nice lull in the fighting for a while, a good five days of you being sober. You encouraged me to find my passion, you helped, you looked at things with me, you helped me fill out job applications. I appreciated that.

The last night I ever saw you was the day you really fucked up. I asked you if you wanted to come over after work, I told you to meet me at my place at 9:30. Your phone died and you stopped replying, but you knew when to come over. You did and you walked right into my apartment drunk as shit asking my roommate where I was. I walked into the living room and noticed how drunk you were. You tried to take off your clothes as if we were going to have sex. I thought that I would take care of you, that I would tuck you in and you would go to sleep. That did not happen. I was trying to be nice as I possibly could but you kept saying "No fuck you, I don't like this." Which I really didn't understand. I was trying to care for you.

I don't remember the rest of the conversation because it didn't matter. You were drunk, I was beginning to become afraid because you become violent and angry. You letting let out a small laugh and said "I'll kill you," and almost passed out. I was amazed that you said that to me. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. If I was going to die, it certainly wasn't going to be by your hands. I told you to get up, I threw your pants and your socks at you. I told you to leave. You had the audacity to ask "What did I do?" Hell. No. I pulled you up by the shirt and dragged you out into the hall. I didn't want to be alone in my room with you and I was so unbelievably thankful that my roommate was home and in the vicinity. She put down everything to watch what happened. You put on your pants and I started to shove you toward the door, telling you to get the fuck out. You started grabbing at the back of my neck to hold onto me so I couldn't push you out. I pushed you off me, threw your shoes and socks out the door, and then I pushed you out. I closed the door as fast as I ever did and locked it.

You were gone. I was shaking, you kept knocking on the door over and over again. I hugged my roommate and called my doorman to come to take you away and to never let you back in the building again. I remember a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders. I no longer felt trapped by the fear you made me feel. I felt free.

You called me the next morning. I woke up to six missed calls. I knew you wouldn't remember what happened so I answered:

"Do you even remember what you said to me last night?"

"No! I have no idea!"

"You said you would kill me."

"I didn't mean it! Give me another chance!"

"Absolutely fucking not. You're not allowed in my building again."

"That's okay we can still make it work. Please, I love you."

"No. I do not want to see you. I want you to leave me alone."

You threatened suicide. I told him I didn't care because I really didn't. You wanted to have more of a conversation because this is the last time you were going to hear my voice. I told you never to come near me, never to come to my work, and never to go to that bar again. You agreed. I hung up.

The days after, you sent me two texts. One saying you missed me, and the other saying you were getting psychiatric help and you were five days sober. I never replied to either of them, I blocked your number.

It's now July. I've seen you twice since then, at bars. The first time I had a panic attack and left, the second time...I reclaimed my power. I stayed at that bar and you were the one that saw me and left. I made sure everyone knew who you are and what you did to me. Everyone is here on my side, to protect me. I couldn't be more thankful for that.

I was angry for a while, furious actually. I wanted you to be dead, sincerely and genuinely. I hated the fact that you were breathing my air. I realized recently that you don't deserve that type of energy. It took up too much of my time and you aren't worth anything.

I'm officially moving on. I am finally no longer afraid of you after months of fearing for my safety. I am stronger now because of you, which I guess I can thank you for. I have discovered my self-worth and how much I really do respect myself. There is no way in Hell that I will ever let another man, or woman, treat me as terrible as you did. I am happy I can say that.