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And then there were walls.

Domestic violence can be sudden, and unexpected. What happens after?

By: Elle Alexander


Not all of us are able to be with people that mean something to us during the holidays. And although it’s just another day, it still hurts to be alone sometimes.

There’s a little bit of vulnerability there that exposes the core of us to anyone who is willing to give us warmth in the cold. Because you almost feel lost, as though you can’t find your way home… when everyone else has found their way and it’s right in your face on social media. And here you are, just sitting alone, wishing you had someone special to share it with, or that you could be with your loved ones… but you can’t.

This was, hands down, the worst holiday i’ve ever experienced. I spent it with someone that I thought I could trust. Someone who was supposed to be making me feel better, not worse. And the night initially started out beautifully.

“You look extraordinarily breathtaking tonight,” they said. I felt good. I felt so damn good about myself. And I did, I felt beautiful and appreciated in that moment.

“I really want to work things out with you. I’ve missed you so much. If there was ever anyone I’d marry, it’d be you.”

This was of course, before he had drank a bottle of fireball and threw me into a wall.

A week later, my ribs are still hurting. It hurts to breathe in and it hurts to breathe out. I had bruises on my lower back for a few days, but the ones that hurt the most were the ones inside. Because those don’t go away.

Why? Why did this happen?

Because I had a gut instinct he was lying and went through his phone. And I was right.

“Get out of my house. You’re a cancer to me. I wish you were dead right now. If I could kill you myself right now, I would, but I can’t,” he said.

“You fucking bitch. You’re such a fucking bitch,” he said.

“I should call the police on you right now. Get the FUCK out of my house,” he said. I didn’t want to drive home after I’d been drinking. I told him that but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t shut the hell up.

I grabbed his fireball and started to dump it down the sink. And that’s when he came charging at me, broke a glass in the sink trying to grab his whiskey out of my hand and took my wrist and threw me into a wall like a linebacker.

It was at that moment that I knew…

I felt stupid.

Everything I thought meant something meant nothing. This was someone I trusted. Someone I looked up to. Someone I would have done anything for in the world. And this person just threw me into a fucking wall as hard as they could…

In that moment, I was in survival mode. I puffed up my ego and my chest. I stood up for myself and started defending myself. He took his hands off of me and kept ranting about what a bitch I was all night. Then proceeded to apologize and ask me if I’d sleep upstairs with him.

I tried to sleep on the stairwell. I had my purse next to me, ready to go. I had tried to get an Uber home but it was the holiday so there weren’t any running. So I was stuck. It was risk getting a DUI or stay there in that horrible situation until I was sober enough to drive home.

He asked me to go sleep upstairs next to him. I resented him and I hated him at that moment. But I also wanted to be held. So I agreed. He had said he was sorry and we fell asleep next to each other. But when the sun came up, it was back to the same bullshit.

“You FUCKING bitch. Why the fuck are you here? Why won’t you just LEAVE!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

This was two hours after falling asleep. I wasn’t up for driving. I went down and slept on the couch and he obliged, thank God. And a couple hours later, I grabbed my bag and left.

I cried the whole way home. I had hardly any gas in my car and wasn’t even sure if I would make it. But I did.

He called me the next day to ask me if I knew how he had scratched his Breitling watch. The watch was worth 10k. My response was that yeah, I had an idea. It was probably from him throwing me into a wall. He said, “Are we really going there, again? You act like I beat you.”

I didn’t press charges and I didn’t go to the ER because I have kids. This would all be public record. I can’t have that. So as I sit here with pain during inspiration and expiration, I tell you this. That moment was my “Ut oh,” moment. I knew then, that he only gave a fuck about his belongings and treated people as though they were disposable.

He wasn’t calling to see if I was okay, he was calling about his watch. His 10k watch… That had value. But my life, my feelings? Those meant nothing. He kept trying to diminish what had happened. So I told him it was time to say goodbye, and we did so accordingly. That was the first and last time he would ever put his hands on me.

For the next few days, I laid in bed thinking to myself…wondering what I had done so wrong to deserve this. I know that it’s never the victim’s fault, but I couldn’t help but wonder why it’s always me. Why is it that I am so good to people and I’m always the one that gets treated like shit? What have I done to deserve this?

Then I started trying to analyze what it is exactly about me that would cause me to be the victim. I hate using that word, but in this case, it’s true. I was a silent victim. I didn’t report it. I kept it to myself. But what the hell? What did I do that was so bad to be thrown into a wall?

Some questions will never be answered. I spent the night later that week driving up the coast line crying on my way home. Because I just don’t get it. I cried in my car the whole way home from my friend’s house.

Will I always be the one that chooses the wrong guy? How will I ever be able to trust anyone else? Is this what I have to look forward to? When the person I thought would be the last one to do this ended up being just like everyone else?
I didn’t hit him. I didn’t call him names. So why? Why me?

Domestic violence doesn’t always leave bruises. In this circumstance, it did. But the part that hurt the most was the emotional bruises that nobody else got to see. The part that injures you as a human being, not just your skin. The part that makes you question your worth… That’s the part that hurts.

Sometimes I just want to run away. I want to be free and not have to deal with anything or anyone. But I can’t. And I can’t tell people about this because they’ll judge me. Because people suck and they judge you for things that are out of your control, that you couldn’t have predicted or prevented. That’s how people are. And I’m starting to lose faith in humanity because of it.Because you know what they’d say?

Somehow, this was my fault. I should have known better, right?

What a joke.

We said Goodbye. I told him thank you for the memories, that I couldn’t continue things. But I also wasn’t going to stick around for the chance for things to get worse. And here I am…

Walls upon walls.

I can’t sit here and blame myself, because nothing excuses abuse. I might never know why it occurred, but one thing is for sure… it wasn’t my fault.Nobody asks to be hurt. And if I would have stayed, it would have only have gotten worse.

Abuse isn’t always getting your ass beat. But abuse is abuse. Don’t try to downplay it into something that it isn’t. If it happened once, it will happen again. Staying only apologizes it and allows it to reoccur.

So do yourself a favor… if someone mistreats you, leave. Don’t make excuses. Just leave. Because if you don’t, it will only get worse.












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