"I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then."

My life is whole, it's complete, it's everything I never knew I always wanted. Most days I go about my routine, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks along the way, laundry, maybe some reading with the girls, baths, bed. The usual. I love my husband, I love my kids, life is good.

Then there are days, once in a blue moon, I like to say, that he creeps into my mind. It's like a tiny tug at my stomach, my brain, and my heart. He doesn't belong there, he doesn't deserve to be there, he has no right. He hurt me in ways unimaginable. There are things I went through I am embarrassed to even speak of. So, why on Earth do I think of him? I wonder where he is, did he ever meet someone, did he ever get the help he desperately needs? I cannot fix him, his problems are far deeper than the love I had to offer. They're worse than any medication can control. Lord only knows what excuses he's used on the girls he's dated since me. Believe me, I've heard them all. He was molested as a child, he was abused as a teenager, he had an awful first marriage, his mom treats him like garbage, his baby momma is a whore, you name it, he used it. So why did I ever give in? I know now, but then was a different story.

There are points in your life, highs and lows, that you will always remember. After my mom died I felt like I would never, ever get back up, brush the dirt off, and keep going. I struggled inside with the questions that will forever go unanswered. I dated guys, girls, and found a new friendship in drugs and alcohol. I tried to fit in, and everywhere I looked I felt as if another door was being shut in my face. Then one day, I met him. He looked at me just the right way, said just the words I needed to hear, and touched me in ways I never knew a woman could be touched. He showed me what it was like to be an adult, something I never thought I'd ever achieve. Living on our own, paying our own bills, coming and going as we please, it was a lifestyle everyone was jealous of. If they only knew what went on behind closed doors. He drained my bank account, depleated my life of friends, and controlled every move I made. He checked my phone bills, e-mail accounts, mileage on my car, all to make sure I did things his way. All for nothing.

He never worked, never made an effort on most days to even get out of bed. I cooked, cleaned, and raised his daughter as if she were my own. There were so many nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering how I ended up in that life, and how in the world I would ever be free again. As long as I had drugs, I didn't need friends. I would smoke, drink, snort crank, whatever I could get my hands on. Anything to rid my mind of the present danger. I had him, and in the blind eye of the outside world, we were happy. The one day, it happened. He snatched me up by my throat, hit me in the face, and treated me like I was nothing but trash to be tossed to the curb when he was through. I never fought him back, maybe that's where I went wrong. I wasn't like the other girls he was used to, I didn't fight. I may have ran away a few times, but I always went back to his empty, broken promises that he would never do it again, that was the last time. I was so niave, I believed he was filling in the gap in my heart, he was the missing pieces to the puzzle, and if I could just figure out the way they all fit, we would be so happy together. He was far from the missing pieces, more like a sledge hammer breaking my heart a little more each day, to the point not even a band-aid could fix.

We had big plans-what couple doesn't? We wanted to move from Indiana up to Michigan. I was supposed to finish school, and I landed a pretty decent job at a hotel in St. Joseph, so things looked good. More money coming in meant more money to save and put toward our future together. I thank God every day we didn't have kids together, but that doesn't mean we didn't try. He thought I was acting "too good for him" with my new job, new clothes, and new attitude. It had been so long since I felt I had something to be proud of, and this job made me feel good, accomplished. Obviously the commute wasn't pleasant, on a good day I could make it in just under an hour, but in his mind I must have been doing everyone I work with. Why on Earth would he consider the 45 mile drive on a 2 lane highway that was crawling with cops? No, never that.

In combination with the multiple medications he took, drinking was a favorite pass-time of his. One night, things got out of hand. I guess turning over to go to sleep at 2am when I had to be at work at 7am the following morning just sent him through the roof. I have never seen a rage in someone so fierce as I saw in him that night. I was sure I wasn't getting out of there alive, and he reassured me of that a number of times. With a roll of trash bags, duct tape, and a knife bigger than any butcher needs to own, he sat there and tormented me. He smoked all my cigarettes, and used the lighter to burn me. He left bruises on my neck, legs, arms, face, you get the idea. The old building we lived in was cement, we were on the top floor, and that night, he used it to his advantage. No one could hear my head banging against the wall, or him screaming at me to breathe since he knocked me unconscious. He called my dad a number of times and put me on the phone, just to reassure him I was okay. After brusing my cheekbone, ear drum, throat, arms, and legs, he took advantage of my body in ways that are unjust. He demanded I tell him I enjoyed it, and when I did, he said I was lying and proceeded with further torture. He is such a demon, he told me, even at my worst hour, that I was beautiful and I was such a gift to him. Unfortunately for him, my inner "beauty" finally took control.

Sneaking out was terrifying, the doors were old and creaked so loudly they could wake the dead. Once I managed to get out of the bedroom, I took things one step at a time. Each lock I unbolted, and checked for his snoring from the bedroom. I grabbed my Coca-Cola bear, my tooth brush, and my phone. I didn't even put my shoes on, I shut the door and left all the locks open, and tore off down those 4 flights of stairs like I was competing for a gold medal. I put the keys in the ignition, and once I turned out of that apartment complex, I have never looked back. I went to my dad's work, and from there, to the ER. Because the police weren't called to the scene, even with photos and evidence of his repeated attacks, there was nothing they could do. To this day, I still cannot believe the justice system. Had I called the police from that apartment, I would have left in a body bag. I guess this is the next best thing.

Just because I never looked back doesn't mean I haven't seen him, he has come looking for me. He knew my car, he knew my address, and he knew where I worked. He called, and even threatened to come to the divorce hearing, just to see me. Thankfully, in most all aspects of my life, I have moved on. We sold my car, leased something he would never look for me in. I moved out, and moved in with Dustin. I quit my job, and eventually moved away. Almost 6 years later, I still scan the parking lot at the grocery store, double check my locks and windows, and never leave home without my cell phone. I never dreamed of living in fear, and I don't now, but the constant nagging inside me tells me this isn't over. "A lot of holes in the desert, and a lot of problems are buried in those holes." (Casino-1995) Maybe, one day, my problem will be resolved, out here in the desert. Until then, I will put on a happy face, and live the life I never knew I always wanted.

**Let me make mention here, there is NO excuse, none what-so-ever, for a man to hit a woman. And even less of an excuse for a woman to stick around and deal with it. I was in an abusive relationship with this man, who I thought I loved. As it turns out, at the end of the day I not only failed myself, but my family and friends as well. I have burned some bridges to the point of non-repair. I am so fortunate to have family and friends that have stuck it out, have had the faith in me and the strength to push me forward in the right direction. Those of you, you know who you are, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for a second chance at life.