The day that stays engraved in my brain. The day my fear was intensified, my trust in local law enforcement was broken, and the day I learned exactly the type of crazy I was dealing with.
It started as an argument, like it always did. I have no idea what is was about this time. I just remember going out into the garage as ____ was leaving for work. I remember trying to open his car door and him kicking me, full force. I remember running back into the house, and him chasing me filled with rage.
I remember him grabbing my laptop off the kitchen table and my phone flying across the room, and then I watched him stomp up and down on my laptop and shatter it into pieces. Of course at this point I was enraged, my blood boiling, my pulse a million beats per minute. I think I may have yelled at him which only got me thrown into the wall behind me. I grabbed my phone and I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. He was pounding on the door and yelling at me to open it because he was only going to break it down if I didn't. Full of fear, I reluctantly unlocked the door and he looks at me, sitting with my phone in hand. He tells me if I am going to call the cops and get him in trouble that he will take me down with him. He begins to punch himself in face, breaking his glasses and cutting his face. He smears his own blood along the door frame of the bathroom. I try to make a run for the front door and am pulled back and thrown onto the stairs. I then tried to make a run for the back door and was pushed into the kitchen. He then punched me in the eye with such force that my head hit the wall behind me. I grabbed the first thing that I could which was a cookie sheet and I swung and hit him in the upper arm.
I can't remember how I managed to get my phone back from him, but I did. He fled to the garage and I did what most people do in a crisis, I called my mom. I told her everything that was going on. She called the police for me, and in a few short moments I had police and an ambulance at my front door. I told them that I thought he was in the garage. I watched as they put him in handcuffs, and I was taken into the house with an officer. The officer walked me outside and down the street to his patrol car. I walked right past the place I was trying to get to when this all happened. My now husband's house. I glanced at him and his friend standing in the driveway but I said nothing. The officer put me in the back of the car and I filled out an incident report. The officer drove me back to my house and I had a paramedic take me into the ambulance where they checked my vitals. I told them I had a massive headache but that I thought I was fine. The officers told me they were sending ____ to work and that nothing could be done because it was his word against mine. No witnesses to the attack, not to mention his self inflicted bruised forehead, to which he blamed me.
To this day I think back on all the things I should have done. How things could have gone differently, how I could have saved myself. How unfair it was that the officers didn't take into account my size versus his, my wounds versus his. I should have pressed charges. I should have stayed away. I should have packed up all my stuff and ran as far away from this monster as I possibly could. I left for a few days, only to stupidly return back to my abuser and endure another year and a half of his abuse.
About the author
I am a 27 year old mother, wife, and student. I love to write. Sharing my stories and experiences to bring awareness and show support for mental illness and domestic violence. I also do some food writing for fun.