One time is too many

***Warning graphic descriptions of domestic violence***

I’ve debated on writing this for a long time and today I’m finally going to talk about something that I’ve almost never talked about. From about 15 to about 22 I was in a very volatile and all around unhealthy relationship plagued with substance abuse and violence. I’ve never really talked about it for quite a few reasons; it makes me uncomfortable, it makes me feel stupid and weak, and it almost makes me physically sick because thinking about it brings back vivid flashbacks. I’m going to talk about two very specific instances of violence; the first time he hit me and the last time he hit me. So, we started dating when I was about 15 and I moved in with him on my 18th birthday. My birthday was in October and his 19th birthday was in January. We decided to have a huge celebration for his 19th birthday and we got beyond fucked up. We each dropped 5 tabs of acid, he had a handle of Jim Beam and I had a handle of vodka and we had been popping pain killers most of the day. We started the evening at one friend’s house party and he wanted to go to another friend’s place so I decided to call his buddy and ask him to come get us because I figured we were way past the ability to drive ourselves anywhere. That was a mistake. From the moment his friend showed up his whole energy shifted. He was furious and I still don’t exactly understand why. His friend was driving us over to his place and my boyfriend at the time actually tried to jump out of the car on highway and was restrained. When we got to his buddy’s place he refused to go inside and was wandering around in the dark muttering to himself. I had been inside the house just drinking and partying waiting for him to come in and when he never did I went to go see what was up. As soon as I went up to him he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into a tree over and over again, calling me a whore and telling me he should kill me. A few of his friends came out and intervened. I hid in a back bedroom for the rest of the night. The next morning he had sobered up, drove us home, crying, apologizing profusely, saying he was just fucked up and that it would never happen again. And I believed him because he had never been violent before, I mean I had been with him three years before this and I’d had never any indication that he was capable of hurting me. I forgave, but the violence continued to happen more and more frequently and he became less and less apologetic, it became my fault. The last and very worst incident happened just a few months before I ended up going to jail for an extended period of time and he caught a federal case. We were both using quite a bit of heroin at this time and we’re at his parents house. He had been drinking Jag bombs and was trashed. I refused to drink because I was scared of how he got when he was drunk. It was late and he wanted to go home. He had a friend with us that needed a ride home too. My boyfriend at the time wanted to drive and refused to let anyone else. His friend just hopped in the back without a word, but the two of us stood in the driveway loudly arguing about it for quite a while until I finally gave in and got in the passenger seat. It was pouring rain and his driving was absolutely terrifying and I kept voicing my concern until he reach over and backhanded me in the mouth splitting my lip open. We were in town at this point and I swung my door open while he was driving in an attempt to get out. He slammed on the breaks and I tried to run for it and call for a ride. He hopped out of the car quicker than I ever thought he could and he grabbed me by the hair throwing me to the ground, took my phone from me and stomped on it all the while screaming that I wasn’t going anywhere. We’re in the middle of the road parked at this point outside the car fist fighting over my shattered phone in the pouring rain and his friend just sat quietly in the back seat of the car. I’m not sure how long we were out there fighting and screaming and he finally decided to just let me drive. He got in the passenger seat and the entire time I was driving he would pretend to punch me and then make fun of me for being stupid and flinching. We got on the freeway and were almost to our exit when a highway patrol got behind us and turned on the lights. I pulled over. I was getting daggers from the passenger seat. The cop came up to my window, which was weird because I was driving and he asked me to come back to his car. I had no idea how awful I looked until I got home and looked in the mirror. In his car he said he initially pulled us over because we had a headlight out, but that our car matched a description from several calls for a domestic disturbance. I looked the cop in the eye, with a straight face and told him that was ridiculous, I was fine, we weren’t fighting and I just wanted to go home. He looked so sad and handed me a card and said to call if I needed help and walked me back to my car and we left. When we got off the exit his friend asked if I could just let him out. I wanted him to stay because I was terrified. I let him out and when we got home I waited for my boyfriend at the time to get out of the car and my plan was to drive away, but he must’ve know because he went to get out and then turned around, grabbed the keys out of the ignition and fucking threw them into the abyss of trees in our neighbors lawn. I sobbed in the drivers seat. My phone was shattered useless and now my car keys were gone. He pulled me out of the car and again told me I wasn’t going anywhere and that if I said anything to the cops he’d fuck me up. We went up to the front door of our house before I realized our house keys were on my car keys, I told him this and he just kicked the front door in. When we went inside he teed off on me again and said if I ever tried to leave again he’d kill me and then he casually walked off to bed. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was dripping wet, I had clumps of hair that had been torn out, a bruise on one cheek under my eye, and my lip was split and bleeding. The next morning he even laughed about the situation. He said that when I went back to the cop car he told his buddy “this bitch is gonna send me to jail” and was proud of me for not saying anything to the cop. I wasn’t going to send him to jail because I knew I would just end up paying his bond to get him out. Why, because I was scared of him, but at the time I really did love him. I never took pictures of anything. I never told anyone anything. I got good at applying makeup to not only cover track marks but bruises. I felt like I somehow deserved what was happening to me. I felt stupid and weak that I keep letting it happen and I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to ask for help. I was the girl that got beat up for 4 years and just took it in silence. I didn’t know how things went so wrong I thought maybe things would go back to how they were our first three years of dating, but after that first time it just got worse. Moral of my story is if he hits you once, he’ll do it again and again and again. It never gets better, only worse.