Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I push back the tears. I failed. He’s right I did, but not like he means. I failed to pick up the pieces after losing Jonah. I failed to remain clearheaded as I navigated life as a widow. I absolutely failed to see the red flags and run the other way.
“You made a vow to me forever. I didn’t walk out on you. I didn’t change the rules between us, you did. I didn’t do anything but love you, embrace you, and take care of our family. You broke your vows; you brought this pain on us both.”
The guilt consumes me. I have to silently talk myself down. His words don’t have power anymore. I’m not a child; I’m not his child. It is not his responsibility to give me expectations, commands, orders, or any fucking thing! More than that it isn’t his place to punish me!
“You didn’t punish me, Brett. You beat me.” I say the words letting them sink in. It has taken me months to admit this is how bad things were between us. Even now, I can only manage to whisper it. “You abused me, Brett. No one should live in fear of their spouse.”
“You’re afraid of me?” he asks softening his tone. How can he not see it?
As much as it kills me to admit, “yes, I am.”
I want to be the superhero mom who isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. To do that would be to lie, not only to Brett, the world, but most importantly I would be lying to myself.
I am done doing that.
I am done explaining it away.
I am done justifying his behaviors.
I am done accepting his actions.
I am done trying to tell myself, more importantly my son, that this is some type of love.
Love doesn’t hurt.
Full stop. Do not move. Do not pass go. This isn’t a board game of life.
Love does not hurt.
Jonah loved me, his love didn’t hurt. The loss of it, though, destroyed me.
My love for my son doesn’t hurt, I would move mountains for him.
Brett, his love hurts.
It kills emotions.
It crushes my confidence.
It hurts physically.
From all sides, every direction, Brett harms me.
That is not the way to live my life. Most importantly, it is not the life to raise my son in.
I have never experienced domestic violence before. My parents have checked out and lost their minds, sure, but not once did either of them put their hands on me or my sister. I didn’t grow up being talked down to, belittled. I have never once encountered anyone who took pleasure in bringing hurt to another soul. Not like Brett.
He loves my pain. He gets off on it.
After every attack, when the adrenaline slowed, he had to have a release.
Whether I wanted to or not.
He had to feel our connection, his words, not mine.
Even when I said no, he took what he wanted from my body.
By the end, I became numb.
Numb to his words.
Numb to his actions.
Numb to his form of love.
Piece by piece he took every good emotion from me. Leaving me empty, devoid of anything for him but pain and sadness.
Now, I want out. There is no way to fix this. I can never trust him with my mind, body, spirit, or heart. Now, my fear is he won’t let me go.
Beyond that, what if he won’t let Justice go?
What can I do? How do I move on? How do I get myself out of this when everything I have tried has failed over and over again?
“You’re afraid of me?” he repeats with a stunned tone.
“Yes,” the word comes out in a whisper as it kills me to admit.
I am afraid.
For my son, for my future, and for my peace, yes, where Brett is concerned, I am afraid. I have no other words to describe it. Fear consumes me.
There is this awkward silence. I should hang up. Why I don’t is beyond me. Obviously, there is nothing else to say between us. Yet, here I sit holding the phone with him on the line waiting for the next bomb to drop. The beep comes through making me jump. It’s my cell phone text alert.
Sara: Come to my office at your earliest convenience today.
He must have heard the noise as suddenly he begins to laugh. The laugh I know too well. The one that means he’s angry.
“Very well, Puppet. It’s best you fear me.”
The line goes dead at the same time my blood runs cold. With a trembling hand I manage to get the receiver back on its base.
Time stands still as I sit in my office chair wondering how bad it will be this time.
I know it in my gut, he’s going to kill me. It’s only a matter of time.
The next message to come through on my cell is from an unknown number.
I’ll see you soon, Puppet.