| It was March, 2017. I was 19, in my first and last semester at the college of my dreams. I had started late and the reason will be explained in this story. At 19, I thought I was already with the guy I knew I’d marry, and I was so deeply in love with him. We were even engaged. Everyone around me was telling me not to marry him. Literally my parents, my friends, my extended family, everyone. I never knew why though. Until March 2017. My ex ended up convincing me to elope. So that’s what we did. About 2 months later we get a call from his estranged father who had just found out we got married, said he wanted to make things right between his son and him. 2 days after that visit. His father moved in with us because he had no where to go. I ended up having 2 work 2 jobs to take care of my ex, myself and his 40 something father who had no job. One night I came home(at like midnight) and our apartment was a disaster. So I got mad and asked why they didn’t do any cleaning. His father says “that’s the woman’s job” so I said well this woman works from sun up to way after sundown and she doesn’t feel like coming home to cleanup after 2 grown men. And I went to bed. That was the last day before my confidence, my natural happiness, and my laid back self died. Woke up to the same mess. I said it again I wasn’t coming home and cleaning at all. His dad looked at my ex, held up his hand and said this is how you keep a woman in line. My ex started to reason with me and I said either clean it up or it’ll sit until you do. My ex slapped me. And from there it escalated, every argument for the next 4 years was physical. Everything I did, resulted in a slap or punch or kick. There was one time I was sitting in the passenger seat and had said I was glad to go home because I didn’t wanna be around anyone because I was sick. And when I tried to get out of the car, my ex grabbed me by my hair and forced me back in the car and made me go to his friends, otherwise he’d be embarrassed without his woman there. Fast forward to November 21 2018, 3 days before thanksgiving. I had walked across the street to my ex’s grandmas to feed her dog while she was out of town. I got finished, walked back to my street where I found my ex husband all over another woman. Basically in a make out session. Once again it was my fault. I ended up leaving him for a few months. We got back together and at first it was fine until the first big fight. From then on, I knew how to act, but it didn’t matter if I did because he wanted to hurt me by then. It slowly turned into every single day. Fast forward to April 2021, I noticed our tax check in my bank account(I had a chime account because I was tired of him overdrawing the joint bank accounts we had) and I told him let’s use this to get our own place, we had been living with his boss. He said okay. I found an apartment for $500 a month. It was huge but it was just the two of us so I didn’t think we needed anything big. He didn’t like it because he wanted to bring project cars that he had gone into debt with his boss for. But the landlord wouldn’t let us keep that many cars parked, which is understandable he didn’t want his property to look like a junkyard. My ex threw a fit. Beat the hell out of me for agreeing with the landlord. I managed to get away that night. And the next day I went with my friend to get my things while he was at work. Then I found out, he forfeited all rights to our tax check because he willingly agreed to have it deposited into MY account, that his name was no where on. So the money was mine. I used it to get that apartment. I wanted to be independent. But then…On June 8th 2021, I was driving home from my 3-11 shift at the nursing home where I had taken my CNA class. I didn’t notice his truck parked up the street from my apartment. He had broken in. He was drunk(like always) and he was sitting there telling me he was moving in and he was sorry. The same “I’m sorry” speech all of us probably have memorized. I told him no. He ended up chasing me outside, and beating me in front of my neighbors. He had choked me, slapped me, the absolute worst. And they called the cops. My plan to get attention that time worked. He went to jail, our divorce was ugly. I had an order of protection that lasted a year. And in that year I moved to an entirely different state. And now I’m loving life. I have a man that is very kind, and the exact opposite of what I had before. So ladies, don’t be afraid. Get someone’s attention. Someone is listening I promise. |
A Letter to My Rapist: From a Survivor” by Graciella P
A Letter to my Rapist; From a survivor… Every year, the month of April is dedicated to those who survived sexual assault, domestic abuse and rape. One month is given to the survivors; a so-called safe place to raise awareness and speak our truth. Now to you, this mere month...
