Victim (Work in Progress)

Thinking about the past few years is almost like a blur. So much shit happened in such a short period of time that I had to fall back. A lot of my friends won't understand it. Hell I'm sure some of them don't even consider themselves friends anymore and for that I'm truly apologetic. For a while I lost myself but to be honest, holding myself accountable for the mistakes I made wouldn't solve anything. I'm a victim of deciept; a victim of human greed. My good nature and kindness merely taken advantage of the people I put myself in contact with. I've always craved a sense of belonging and I guess I was in search of a reason to love myself and a way reclaim my confidence again. At a young age I was a victim of teenage love gone wrong. Regreting it would be foolish as I honestly don't think I would be the person I am today or the person I'm going to be in the future without experiencing the things I've been through. Do I think it was neccessary or deserved? No. Am I stronger because of it? Yes.



I always desired to live in the fast lane, but my sheltered childhood and up bringing made it close to impossible. As a teenager I always resented my lack of indpendence, but I also lacked the basic understanding of my parents love. Naturally however, I found the need to rebel and break the rules. I found myself attracted to the typical bad boy persona not realizing what I could get myself into. My niavety always managed to get me into trouble in spite of my efforts to prove everyone wrong. I've always liked a challenge and sometimes I'd let that spill into my romantic relationships. I spent the majority of my high school years with one boy. He was the kid everyone thought was off. The kid who was cool but he always made you wonder how long it was going to be before he snapped. I spent my years with him on the tip of my toes ready for something to happen and sooner than later it did. As we were introduced to recreational activities that were anything but acceptable to our parents let alone society at our age, I realized that I had definately accessed the situation wrong. I've never been the kind of person to turn my back on someone who I've invested time and feelings in so I stuck around telling myself that love would see me through and fix everything. When recreational use transitioned to hard core habits for him, I started to see that I was in way over my head. Being immature my pride held in any cry for help and so I stuck it out. As he realized he had a problem and his family was noticing things, he blamed me. He was convinced that I was the one out to get him. It slowly matured into an obsession and when he finally lost control he took it out on me.



I remember the night before it happened. I was babysitting his nephews and feeling tired from all the running around. As the clock struck 11:15 the phone rang and it was him on the line. As soon as I picked up the phone I had sensed something was wrong but I was stuck in Streamwood miles from Elmhurst and I had to stay with the kids. I couldn't really understand he was saying but managed to calm him down enough to where he hung the phone up and fall asleep. The next morning I managed to wake up and immediately I found myself driving to his house. The day felt exactly how I felt. I always found that ironic. It was pouring rain and the clouds were gray. They do say when it rains it pours, but they never said anything about being struck by lightening.



Waking him up was hard, I assumed this was because of whatever drugs he did the night before. I promised myself not to get mad at him because he had a serious problem and he needed help. My anger wouldn't help him and it sure as hell wouldn't help my situation. I woke him up and bribed him with breakfast and took myself to the living room to watch cartoons and wait while he got ready. To my surprise I didn't sit long as he was standing over me with his winter coat on muttering something that sounded angry and mumbled. At that point I had asked him what was wrong and he expressed that he didn't want to go out for breakfast and told me that he was mad I woke him up. I wasn't about to force him to do something he didn't want to and I sure wasn't about it take someone ungrateful out for a breakfast they didn't deserve so I told him to just go back to bed. Unfortunately since he was up he explained that there was no way he was going back to sleep and it was all my fault. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments before he spoke up and accused me of having a threesome with his brother and friend. I couldn't help but laugh because at that point, he was the only man I had ever been with and my self confidence was at an all time low because the weight I gained from birth control and depression. I guess he saw this as a slap in the face because it was only a matter of seconds before he managed to have me on my back on the couch. With his hand against my throught he snarled in my face that I was trying to kill him from the inside out, poluting his mind with telepathic messages. Nothing I could say would convince him otherwise and so I began to pray. I think part of me really thought that I was going to die that day. To some extent I think I almost expected it.



He sat on my chest and I couldn't breath. Between my chest being crushed and the tears coming out of my eyes I couldn't breath. I managed to grasp onto the lanyard that held my keys and made a half ass attempt to stab him with the sharpest key I could find but the lack of oxygen to my brain made it next to impossible to utitlize my reflexes. It managed to distract him long enough to grab my keys and run outside to my car to move it in the back where no one would see it. Instinct told me to run and so I bolted for the back door into the pouring rain. I made it to the fence and started to climb over only to twist my ankle and fall. Flip flops definately prevented a speedy get away. I speed limped back to the door where he spotted me as he was getting out of the car. At that point it's like everything started to go into slow motion. I ran to the neighbors house and started banging on the door and screaming hoping someone would hear me but got no answer. As he made his way toward me I panicked and started messing with the door handle only to discover that the door was unlocked. I immediately ran into their house hoping someone would hear me but when I received no answer I ran out the patio door and grabbed a ceramic pot. All of the sudden it felt like my ankle was on fire and I collapsed. I willed myself to get up but at this point it was too late he caught up with me. I threw the pot at him only to miss.



As I tried to get away screaming for help he grabbed my by the roots of my hair and yanked me with him all the way back into the house and threw me on the couch. I was crying so hard now I couldn't breath and out of no where he started hitting me with his belt. Each hit stronger than the last I cried in agony wondering how anyone could do this to someone they loved. He grabbed me by the hair again and told me that hopefully I've learned my lesson and commanded me to go take a shower. I refused and so he preceded to drag me up the stairs and throw me in the bathroom. I got myself up and ran full speed at him hoping maybe I'd push him down the stairs. I rushed past him as he lost his balance but he got a hold of me and laid punch after punch into my skull. As his last punch hit the room started spinning. I remember seeing the tile floor of the bathroom come into sight and slamming into it like a brick wall and then it went black.



I'm still not sure at this point how long I was blacked out. I remember hearing thuds on the front door like someone was knocking down and almost immediately there after I heard sirens and police screaming outside. I struggled to get up and clumsily made my way to the noise at the front door only to fall into the arms of a police officer. From there I faded in and out flashes of police and paremedics wirring around like a tilt-a-whirl. They say I'm lucky to be alive and to come out of a beating like that with only a minor concussion, small abrassions and a few contusions. I don't think luck had anything to do with it. If I was lucky I would have won the lottery and my prince charming would have been waiting at the alter for me. I prefer to say that I'm blessed by God to be on this earth.



For months I couldn't think about anything but what happened. I hid myself away from everyone and stayed with my mother in Downers Grove. Many nights I cried myself to sleep because I felt that I had failed myself and for a while I had felt like I had failed him.