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I remember the way he treated me on the way there in the van with our friends.
He wouldn't play the CD I asked him to or put it on a station that I wanted.
It made me so angry I remember.
He just kept ignoring my request completely.
So we went to the bar.
We were all drinking.
Although I wasn't in love with him, and I didn't much care about him, it made me really angry to see him talking to and paying attention to anyone but me.
He always treated me so lowly, but treated everyone else so highly.
He made me feel ugly, unappreciated and lonely.
So I got wasted...
really wasted.
I am not even sure how it happened I kissed one of the girls that went out with us.
Not that I like girls, I just did it.
I can't even tell you the reason why.
It seemed fun at the time I guess.
On the way home, we all decided that we would go swimming and continue the party.
Some of our friends decided to go home.
We were all in the pool and the girl I kissed earlier in the night, obviously she was a little wild, took all of her clothes off in the pool.
My boyfriend at the time kept flirting with her, grabbing her and throwing her in the pool.
It really pissed me off.
After all, this man was living in my house.
He apparently had no respect for me.
We all got out of the pool.
This girl, completely wasted, sat on the steps with her head down.
Her phone was ringing and I remember trying to answer it so this guy she wanted to sleep with would come pick her up.
He wouldn't let me answer the phone.
He took her downstairs to "his room", which was the basement of my house where he decided he would sleep every night after our daughter was born, and was down there for quite awhile.
I told his friend to go check and see what was going on because they were down there for awhile.
I remember thinking I really don't want to go down there.
If I see what I think I may see, I will lose it.
So I'm upstairs with my friends brother and we start kissing.
I thought, this man doesn't care about me, why not.
He is downstairs with some drunk naked girl, why not.
Well my boyfriend came upstairs and caught us when we were just done kissing.
He got in my face and slammed my head off the stove range.
Out of pure reaction, I punched him in the lip.
The punch didn't phase him.
His friend and his brother got their stuff and left me there.
They had to have known what was going to happen.
After they left he dragged me down the hall, slammed me off the wall.
The rest is somewhat a blur.
I remember trying to get to the window so I could open it and scream.
Maybe someone would hear me? I broke the blinds and was unsuccessful.
He was so much stronger than me that he picked me up by my legs and started putting his fingers in me.
It is hard for me to type it and I have never ever told anyone what happened to me in this great of detail.
I was screaming for him to stop.
My five year old son walked into the room and witnessed it.
He stopped.
I remember thinking to myself if I live through this night, I am leaving him.
I am gone.
He beat me all night long.
Harassed me and made me have sex with him.
It was by far the most degrading experience during our whole relationship.
I finally called the police when I couldn't take it any longer.
But when they got to my house, I was too afraid to tell them that he beat me.
I was also afraid because I knew I hit him back at one point.
I thought maybe I would go to jail to.
My whole body hurt the next day.
I had bruises all over me, literally.
My arms, shoulders, legs, neck.
I couldn't stand looking at myself because it was a sickening reminder of what happened to me.
For days after, the harassment was unbearable.
He was so horrible to me.
I just felt so alone, depressed and hopeless.
The following weekend came about and I decided to get out of the house.
I went and had a few drinks with two of my friends.
He was fine all night.
When I came home, he wanted to have sex.
To give you some background, for months prior to our breakup, I was repulsed by him.
He would make me have sex with him, even when I didn't want to.
It got to the point where I never wanted to because he was so mean to me.
And him forcing me too made me not want to even more.
I decided that night I didn't want to have sex, and I wasn't going to.
He went ballistic.
He punched the walls, smashed the DirecTV box.
He grabbed me by my hair and pulled upward, ripping some of my hair out.
He would go downstairs and I thought it was done.
Apparently he wasn't done, because he would start screaming foul words and phrases at me from downstairs.
Then he would come upstairs and start flipping out.
I remember clutching my blankets on the couch.
My heart was beating out of my chest.
I was so afraid of what he was going to do next.
The next morning he was still very angry at me.
He reminded me that I was going to have sex with him that night whether I liked it or not.
He wasn't going to stand for me not having sex with him.
The Sunday before I left him, we made sauce, meatballs and pasta.
He invited a mutual friend over.
I remember him telling me how worthless I was.
And how he was going to go out with his friend and find a real girl.
One that was pretty and liked to, in nicer terms, have sex.
I remember saying to him, thats fine.
But If you want to do all that get your stuff and leave my house.
He told me that he will never leave.
He said if I ever left him and got another boyfriend, he would kill me and my boyfriend.
The following day, I obtained the PFA.
That was the end of my six years of hell.
This is only a tidbit of the pure torture I endured with him.
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