My Survivor Story

June 13th 2020 

This will be the hardest thing I have ever done, however not saying anything
is putting my life and health in danger and I can’t in any good conscious
remain silent. I fear getting this out there and fear for the life of loved
ones and friends and family as I have been warned should I ever cross him the
consequences would be severe, fatal and never proven. This will be very vulgar,
graphic and unsettling for some, but hopefully eye-opening as well. I believe
now that evil does exist and is put into our lives every day. I still want the
best for him and to get help, but he refuses, others have seen the patterns too
and I know I am not the only one, he tries to fool, but by saying nothing we
are all condoning these actions. How long do we accept it and let it consume us
before we act on it? For me, that time has to be now. Over the last 2 years my
relationship with Joe has changed drastically he is truly an evil soul with
nothing but hateful emotion and contempt toward all he knows. Everyone in his
own words has done something to bring him down and they will all suffer his
wraith in due time. I was warned by many people he was a criminal, manipulator,
a cocaine addict, alcoholic, pot smoker, an asshole, stalking creepy jerk, and an
abuse vengeful person, but I did not see it, and when I did, I was trapped.

Escape, according to him, was futile. I was not his girlfriend, but a temporary
contract, subject to changes of it during anytime according to him. I had
better get used to it because I am in his words the best, I can ever hope to
have interested in me, I needed to conform, honor and obey his commands. I
should feel lucky that he even gives me any attention and that he can rid me of
my existence in the snap of a finger. At least once a week he threatened to
void the contract if I continued to be a disobedient bitch. What started off as
great relationship and experience has become a nightmare. He has become someone
I loved to one I loathe. Something I swore I would not ever let happen to me
again, but I have been duped again, mind controlled and abused emotionally,
verbally and physically to the point I want to return the abuse, but I know
nothing I could do would ever make a difference. It wasn’t always this way, but
I am realizing that this pattern is just the way an alcoholic cocaine drug
freak controlling egotistical person works their magic. First, he gains trust
through compliments and trying to be a gentleman, then once I was fooled, the
cycle began. He has no morals or manners or respect for anyone, he is above us
all. He is a sick perverted sexual sadist and shares personal and intimate
details with whomever listens, and he continues even when you ask him to stop.
He began by subjecting me to every single past sexual act he did, proud to
shove his conquers down my throat in order to remind me that I was easily
replaceable. I even said I did not wish to hear about his past girlfriends or
fuck friends as he called them. Well, he said tough, I was going to hear it. Every
time we would go anywhere, I would have to hear the explicit sexual rantings of
each woman he saw, ogled, blatantly flirted with and asked for their numbers
just to put me in my place. All the while saying they would be better than me. From
his bosses’ children to young teenagers walking by, co-workers and even his own
nieces, cousins and friends, my family and friends, there was nothing I was not
subjected to by a so called 50-year-old man, more like sick sexual predator.
How they all turned him on, what he would do with them sexually was downright
revolting to hear. To listen to such filth and depravity was repulsive, again I
asked him to stop but he would not. Claiming they all wanted his cock and were
parading around their pussies and tits for him became so disgusting that he
took joy in constantly repeating them just because he knew they provoked a
reaction from me. Every female to him is a whore that just wants to experience
the Joe May cock, his own words. No age limit matters, they are all sexual
desires to him, his sick perverted fantasies are stomach turning, and he
actually believes all females from 4-80 want him, he can have them, and I
should be lucky. Then came personal attacks on me both mental and physically.
Who really likes being called ugly fat lard ass, fat ass, slob, or hearing I
wish you were such and such? You will just lay there and take it; I am raping
you. He got off on the pain while claiming it was my fantasy. Being slapped and
punched all over and choked while his anger grew had me shaking in fear, yet I
did nothing, thus condoning it in his mind. He insists on being called MASTER
and tells me I am the slave and I better know my role. If I resisted, he only
was rougher and more violent, then the biting started. My breasts bore the
scars, my face the bruises, they were love bites according to him. He also
subjects his poor dog to bites, kicks, hard wrestles and slaps her as a way to
toughen her up and show her who is king, I interject and try and take the abuse
instead, wow what a man. He sprained my hand while I was trying to defend myself
from one of his cocaine induced violent rages. Again, it was to toughen me up.
Hit me with a cane and his fists numerous times while high saying I must learn
to obey. Shot me with a BB gun in the chest breaking the skin and said my fat
tits could take it, again in another cocaine rage, but said he doesn’t have a
problem with alcohol or drugs. He has no real friends or work relations because
he cannot get along with people, but it is ALWAYS their fault, he does nothing
wrong in his mind. He has in his own words said he is untouchable, no one will
fuck with Joe May, his boss allegedly built him his own shop and fears him as
do his co-workers and his so-called friends. He claims if they don’t obey his
commands, they will regret it. He needs to instill that fear and thrives on it.
He doesn’t work for his boss; he gives him the privilege of his services. I
even balked at him and said it is his bosses shop not his, to which he replied
this is MY shop and no one fucks with me at my own shop, he won’t get rid of me
because I am better than everyone else he has working for him, I run the show
he pays for my health insurance because he knows I am the king and I make the
rules. I have told him I have no fear of him, he gets mad, and threatens to
throw me out, cancel our contract, hurt my family or friends until I give him
that fear he craves. He is a racist to all colors of people including his own,
he says he doesn’t have friends of color they are his slaves and only serve as
means to his drug habit. I have many friends and family from all colors, and I
don’t like the name calling, but he says he is better than everyone else, and
only can wish that they were on Joe Mays level. He degrades people all the time
for no reason, if only to try and feel he is superior to others. Even his
family is not spared, they have never done anything but be kind to me, and yet
he bad mouths every one of them about everything they do, post, say, feel or
believe out of some warped sense of jealousy. I know better and feel sorry that
they get subjected to his blatant remarks for no apparent reason other than
maybe he knows they are better than him and he can’t stand the idea that the
world really does not revolve around him. His friends are not really his
friends, he says he doesn’t have friends, they are just a means to get what he
wants, as they too are all as he puts it strokes, dumbasses, stupid jabronies
that he allows to be under his control. He just uses them to get his desired
results and are inferior to him. His own reality is a fantasy world of WWE
catch phrases and actions, movie quotes that he lives by as if they are all
about his life. You must obey him and do immediately what he says without
question, however, he can do as he pleases and that is okay. He makes me post
how grateful and honored I should feel about him, and I comply as he says it is
a test and will know if I defy his wishes. I will pay if I do not give in. He
tests my trust by trying to set me up at things to see how I react or answer, I
know better and say what he wants to hear.

The fact that he says everyone is below him and even the cops won’t “fuck with him” has become a daily threat, call them he dares me, saying with this bullshit bail reform he will be
out and delivering Joe May Justice to all who cross him. They can’t protect me
and will not oppose him. He claims to have had a hand in the death of my
brother, he actually died from complications to cancer, however Joe says he had
to die for what he did to my father and I and justice has been served and that
was all I needed to know. I doubt he did anything, it was just another tactic
to make me fear him even more and keep me on edge should I ever disobey him.
The nail in the coffin to my realization that no matter how much I prayed and
hoped things would change came Sunday while at his place. I had been feeling
terrible since the cat bit me a few days before, but I went over for dinner and
date night. Most of the night he wasn’t around as usual because for some reason
he likes to have me there while he takes off and ignores me instead. I kept
falling asleep and felt ill and out of it all day. 9 o’clock or so I just
wanted to go home and go to sleep, but he said I needed to take him to store
because he was out of booze. He said I told him he still had plenty of shots, told
him and I wasn’t feeling well and just wanted to go home. He didn’t like that,
said are you going to let me drive drunk? He said I told him that would be his
choice if he did, not mine. I do not even remember the conversation really and
left, went home and text him I made it. Apparently, I was having an allergic
reaction to meds and broke out in hives and went to ER next morning with fever
and confusion. This apparently did not excuse my behavior in his mind and said
I fucked things up by not obeying him, it was my fault he had to drive drunk,
and I was now paying the consequences for it. Yet everyday he begins drinking
and smoking pot at work early in the morning is high and wasted by the
afternoon before he leaves and drives himself home. No one said he HAD to go
and drive he choose that on his own, but again nothing is ever his fault. He
believes he is punishing me and teaching me a lesson and I will come back to
him being more subservient than I was. I will be begging for his forgiveness. Yes,
I still did the apologizing to smooth things over, but he said I was on
suspension until further notice, said to go back to my trailer trash life and
think things over. Trailer trash, really, he has lived in quite a few himself
and so do many people we know, but we are all just trash?

But yet he claims he cares about me and my health. I have no idea why I have let myself be subjected to this again and have sat idly by allowing myself to be controlled and abused
for so long. Most likely plain stupidity. I deserve it I am told and need to
shape up fast. Yet again I am the only one whose behavior has to change. I
don’t think I really have done anything so that I deserve this treatment, but I
must be according to the holier than thou highness Joe. I have never given him
the satisfaction of crying, tears just do not come easy for me, and I truly
think that this is something that infuriates him to no end. I endure all the
abuse and pain but have not shed a tear. He tries to preach the gospel and
verses and bible quotes, however they only pertain to me and others who do
wrong and sin, but he does not have to abide by the rules or guidelines, as he
is above them and we are there to serve his purposes. He constantly claims he
can bring anyone to their knees and begging for mercy, why? What is so
important as being thought of feared and as a Bad Ass? Why does he feel he
needs to instill fear in others? There is no respect, yet he feels everyone
should cater to his whim, honor and obey him. He says he was abused as a child,
and he claims now it is time to teach others that he is in charge now and it
his way and no other. Know thy role and follow my rules or face my judgment.
Isn’t that the sign of a weak shallow sorry excuse for an individual instead of
a man? Why do I fear this sad sack of crap so much? He has everyone fooled, but
I do think some others may actually be on to his act. My father adores him, and
I have so much guilt inside not being able to tell him the truth. I am in all
respects an enabler. No matter my reasoning and thoughts to try and get him to
understand the type of abusive person he is, he turns it on me and makes me
believe I am the one who has the problem, not him. Do others see it too and are
also afraid to confront or poke the bear? Tonight, I caught him cheating on me
and having a date with someone else. Drives a Captiva. I had been suspecting
for some time he has been, but he lied and convinced me I was imagining it.
Drove by as they were embracing, should have had the balls to confront him, but
of course I did not. He has me convinced saying something will not achieve
anything, who is going to believe a fat ass ugly broad claiming to be abused, you’re
lucky to get any attention he says. I believe him, he has all the power, pulls
the strings and no one is going to question or defy him.


My Survivor Story

In March 2019, I began dating a man with whom I lived with in the back of a refrigerated truck. The first 24 hours we were together, he held an axe over my head, and tried to convince me he was my boyfriend I had dated long-term reciting details of our personal life, with whom I was “on a break”. When I believed him instantaneously in a feat of Stockholm Syndrome, he then proceeded to perform a reverse exorcism on me, smash a cane over the head of a man who came to protect me, and throw the axe at me, the door and other people multiple times. When I attempted to run from him he grabbed me by the face and held me down on the ground.

I attempted to call the police, but he instead called in a false drug possession charge. The police, when I attempted to call for domestic violence arrested me, screamed at me, put a mask over my face, and called me an “it” because of my gender-orientation. They later released me with little to no charges.

Out of desperation, I went back to the man in the refrigerator truck. He had all of my belongings and I had no other place to go. After just a few days, he beat me, smashing my head and splintering my elbows against the inside of the truck in front of my current boyfriend’s teenage son, who came to my rescue. He smashed his guitar over my head, claiming I owed him $800 for it, and threw a radio at my head because it was playing Whitney Houston’s cover of “I Will Always Love You”. Blood spurted out of my head like in a Quentin Tarentino movie just above my eye.

While he was screaming in front of my current boyfriend’s son, “I don’t know if I’m going to marry you, kill you, or kidnap you and take you up in here,” I performed first aid on the wound, shouting at him to “get a towel”, “get some water”, and “get a long sleeved tee-shirt”, while comforting my current boyfriend’s son. I escaped by hiding in the bathroom for hours pretending to be using drugs while formulating an escape plan.

I snuck out when the coast was clear and made my way to a gas station where his boss attempted to get me to the ER with a nurse I knew. I declined and called the local domestic violence agency for help from a gas station where I cleaned the wound with my bandana I was given by a stranger. When domestic violence arrived they took me to the ER where they cleaned the wound and gave me stiches, kicking and screaming. I then left behind all of my things and received treatment for six months at a hospital where my friend and my current boyfriend came to visit me. I have been with my boyfriend, the one that my ex impersonated, for a year and a half today. I have a permanent scar on my face, and I still deal with stalking incidents to this day from that man. The police attempted to get me to press charges, and in fact, the policeman who pushed for my story was the partner of the cop that arrested me before, but for my own reasons, I chose to forgive and move on. I am thankful for my boyfriend and thankful to be alive. Respect.

Attachments area

My Story Erikah Ojaniemi, Survivor

I’d like to share my story with everyone.

Let me start off here, my name is Erikah, I’m 28 years old and domestic violence ultimately ruined the rest of my life. And it all started when I met my children’s father in February 2006 when I was 15 years old. A couple of months before we met, I was raped at my “best friends” house. I closed off from everyone until I met my kid’s dad. We were together maybe 6 months the first time he slapped me in the face. Well, I left and went home. But sob I’m sorry it won’t happen again blah blah… He wasn’t physical with me for a while in, but physiological abuse was there. Fast forward to November 2007 I turned 17 and moved out of my parents and we got an apartment. This is when it really started. From then on, I had multiple black eyes, he head butted me in the face and it broke the skin on the bridge of my nose. he literally kicked the shit out of me in his stepdad front yard in the middle of winter in Michigan.

Let me tell you, this guy is a psycho! So, couple years go by, every form of abuse he was present. Whipping steel toe boots at me, smashing everything that I valued. The verbal abuse was incredible! Well forward to 2009. I got pregnant with our first son. At one point I was sitting on the couch, and he was whipping DVDs at me like frisbees… Another time (still pregnant) I. Trying to carry a tote of laundry inside, and he kicks this fucking tote, where? My stomach. I couldn’t believe it. Fast forward to July 2010 LJ is 2 months old. The only time he ever went to jail, he’s out of control shooting me with an air soft gun, throwing shit at me, destroying ten houses. Well, I tried to get away because he’s a nut job. We lived in a trailer park, and I had a friend 3 trailers down. Well, he’s coming after me, and when he gets to me, the Cole cocks me right in my left jaw chin area and someone seen him do it. Called him in. Out the next day, court ordered protection thing automatically. I’m 19, 2-month-old baby I’m freaking out. Well dumb ass me let’s him come back. Forward a couple of years for the best of the story.

We moved to Alaska March 2013 and our 2nd not April 30th. Mental and emotional and financial abuse to the max. 2016 we buy a house… Well from May 2016 to December 2016 he pulled a gun on me 6 times, almost stabbed me in the stomach in our driveway, tried to put a rope around my throat and was gonna yank me out of the truck I was sitting in. Final straw, it’s December of 2016, cold as shit in Alaska. He tells me to get out of his house, pulls a gun on me. I walked outside and *BANG* he fires a shot. I was done I couldn’t take it anymore. Found somewhere to stay. Because my family is giving no shits about me. I had to leave the kids with him. No other choice. He never hurt the kids, ever. Well, I guess he started using meth, and freaks out, thinking people are trying to get him…and he come the best part. He takes our 4 and 7 at the time and runs off in the woods and they fuckin disappear for 3 fucking days. in the middle of May. OCS takes custody of them, and they go to stay at my parents. Their dad has already turned my parents on me.

Well, he moved back to Michigan, and I had to move back in our house. January thru May of last year I was stranded 20 miles from town. No friends, no family. never got any notification of any of the court proceedings for the fight to get my kids back. My parents are telling OCS they will pick me up for visiting the kids…. NOT ONE TIME did they ever pick me up. To shorten the story, they terminated my rights to the kids. Because I had absolutely no support system, and they said I willingly didn’t go to see my kids… This was All last year. Now here we are I’m still living in the house we started buying, there hasn’t been any payment made since April of 2017. No electricity, no water, ok plastic for my upstairs windows because dumbass broke them out… Can’t find a job because I can’t keep my cell phone service paid… No money. for ten last 17 months I have survived off of going to the local transfer site (or dump) for everything I needed, including all my food. It’s not as bad as it sounds. A dumpster diving is a huge thing here. But it’s now been 23 MONTHS since my parents got my kids, AND I’ve been allowed to see my babies 2 times. My oldest just turned 9 today (the 9th) and my youngest turns 6 on the 30th… Since I’ve been exiled from my family I’ve missed/ get to miss last year and this year’s birthdays. Because my mom has some Lifelong hate for me. And what the dad doing? He’s with some new chick with 2 kids, while I can’t even talk to my kids. my will to live and, purpose to my life gone…

People NEVER CHANGE. I don’t care what anyone (abusers) say. They are all worthless nothing’s. I’ve had depression since I first had my oldest… Like to the max! Most days I don’t even get out if bed… I find myself crying at least 7-10 times a day… I’m so lost in this shit life I’m forced to live… I really don’t even know what to do anymore… I can’t say don’t ever go back to your abuser because I did for 11 years. But my suggestion to everyone, don’t take this kind of shit… If I wouldn’t have left that December, I can almost guarantee that I would not be alive to type this half assed story. and ladies keep a close eye on your teenage daughter’s relationship with boyfriends. Because there could be abuse and you might not even know it. My parents didn’t know anything. Until I tried to tell them last year, but my Ex already made me look like the bad person for leaving. Blamed my leaving on drugs which are so far from the truth. since drugs cost money which k never had any of.

**If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, there is help. You can visit the Break the Silence website at, chat with one of our helpline advocates at 855-287-1777, or send a private message through our Facebook page.


What’s YOUR Raw Truth?

Sharing our stories can be incredibly empowering while also helping others connect with survivors who have similar experiences. If you are inspired to share your story with us, complete the form below. You can choose to remain anonymous.

My Survivor Story; Danielle Tyra

abuse, trauma, domestic violence, anxiety, PTSD

How does one go from confident, successful, and living her best life to
being homeless, unemployed, ashamed, and wondering how did this happen? Let me
start with saying this is just a snippet of what I endured over 3 years of

In 2016, I met the man of my dreams. He was caring, selfless, financially
stable, a business owner, educated, charismatic and the stars aligned…or so I
thought. Shortly after meeting him, I started to see red flags that at the time
I ignored. He had a few different names he went by, he always blamed everyone
else for what has happened to him, he didn’t have any friends and had an
extremely volatile relationship with his ex-wife even after 7 years of divorce.

I knew he had been to prison for violating a protection order (and lying about
it) with his first wife but he made sure I knew that he was “wrongly convicted.”
That it was all “her” fault. I believed him. I mean he told me in advance, he
didn’t try to hide that he went to prison, and he had a successful business and
appeared to be back on his feet and doing well. The signs kept coming and I
kept ignoring them. The mental, emotional, and intellectual abuse began and
then lead to physical and financial abuse. He “supported” me leaving
my 15-year career to pursue my own dreams as well as working within his
business. What I did not know is that this was the control he would later have
over me.

He would accuse me of hiding things and stealing from him. I recall one
event where he yelled at me for hiding the stapler and when I said I did not he
started banging on the kitchen table telling me I did. I walked into the room
he was in, and the stapler was sitting in front of him. If I ever question him
or he thought I was against him, he will become very angry and yell, cuss, or
slam/throw things. He would get up in the middle of the night and turn lights
on and do things that were loud or disrupt those sleeping. Originally, I
thought it was just him not being able to sleep until I question it. It then
would turn into a fight, and he would keep me up all night yelling and trying
to keep me awake. I later learned this was a form of abuse. Sleep deprivation to
wear me down mentally. The lies continued and became so ridiculous that he had
me question if he was lying or not, because why would someone lie about that.

For example, he said he was at the store getting milk and he would be right
home. A few hours later he came home and did not have milk. When I asked about
the milk, he would dismiss me and tell me to get it. I learned not to ask where
he was. The ending was never good. He would lie about anything and everything
and for no reason. Even his name. He went as far as telling me about his
current name on his driver’s license was what he was born with, and his birth
certificate was wrong.

Again, one would think why lie about this? And did I really care what his
name was exactly, no I did not but the act of him lying was what was so
disturbing? One day while I was working from home, I started to clean up the
living room and went to find the tv remote to put it where it belonged and
texted him asking where it was and he said, “I caught you.” He purposely hid
the remote so I would not watch tv. What I did not realize then that I do now,
is that he was hard at work to break me down. Attempting to distort my reality to
make me believe I was crazy. Break me down to make me feel worthless. I
couldn’t tell you how many times he called me a whore, cunt, bitch, and other
words I cannot bring myself to even repeat. Early on I would argue back, try to
disprove his lies, and question him. This eventually led to physical abuse.

He already mentally wore me down so that when he physically hurt me, I would
be less likely to fight back. He would tell me that if I called the police, he
would just tell them I hit him first and they will believe him. In fact, he
even threatened to call the police and let them know I went crazy again and he
was defending himself. I was so broken, that I let him spit in my face, punch
me in the face, kick me while I was on the ground, slam my head into the
console of our car, put a pillow over my face, and throw the kitchen garbage on
me. I was ashamed, worn out, tired, and feared what he would do next. It became
so bad that I could not function daily – I was mentally and physically paralyzed.

I stayed home so no one would see the black eye, swollen lip, the gash in my
forehead, and the trouble I had sitting because he kicked me in my tailbone so
hard. I started trying to figure out what was wrong with me. How did I go from
confident, successful, and happy to being depressed, tired, exhausted, and
crazy! How can the outside world think I am still that confident person but at
home, I am not?? I did a great job of hiding it and no one knew except for the
neighbors who would have heard his yells and thrown stuff out the windows and
doors. I lied to him to hide the abuse. I would tell people how great of a
business owner he was. How honest and caring he was. It was all a lie. I was
afraid of how he would turn the truth and what he could do if I didn’t support
him. Once I started trying to figure out why I was crazy is when I started to
see what was really going on. I started opening about little things and doing
research on my own. It led me to read stories like the one you are reading

On 11/13/2019 I left my husband for the first and last time. It wasn’t easy
and still isn’t, but I know that I am safe and so are my doggies. Since leaving
I have continued to endure abuse. He has broken into my car, abused my dogs,
not followed court orders, and continues shaming me to others. I was able to
obtain a protection order, however as any domestic violence survivor knows,
that while this might deter them or slow them down, this does not stop them. He
has continued to violate the orders and make attempts to shame me by speaking
out against him.

Through the help of local domestic violence organizations and amazing
friends/family, I have been able to continue to have a voice, stand up for
myself and not be afraid to speak up no matter how big or small it is. The
worst abuse that I endured was mental abuse. I still struggle with what is real
or not real. I still check the back of my car each time I get in to see if he
is hiding in there. I still cringe when someone raises their voice, or I hear
loud noises and struggle to sleep at night. I still struggle to believe
anything anyone says. I still wonder what he will do next. The journey to
healing will be just if the abuse or longer but what I do know is that I am not
crazy and that I will recover.

My Survivor Story

I never thought that I would be in an abusive relationship.

I told myself over and over that I would never stay with a man that hurt me. But, in fact I was a very typical victim because of my age I was 18, and in the United States, women ages 16 to 24 are three times as likely to be a domestic violence victim as women of other ages, and over 500 women and girls this age are killed every year by abusive Partners, boyfriends, and husbands in the United States. Over 85% of abusers are men and domestic abuse happens only in Intimate, interdependent, long-term relationships; in other words families the last place we will want or expect to find violence which is one of the reasons why domestic violence can be so confusing. I was also a typical domestic violence Victim because I didn’t know the warning signs or the stages of domestic violence. 

The first stage in any domestic violence relationship is to seduce and charmed the victim. The second step is to isolate the victim. The third, introduced the threat of violence and see how they reacts. I never thought of myself as a battered girlfriend until after. Instead I was a very strong woman in love with a very deeply troubled man and I was the only person who could help him be better. 

Why didn’t you just leave? To me this is the saddest and most painful question that people ask because we the victims know something others usually don’t; it is incredibly dangerous to leave an abuser. The final step in the domestic violence pattern is kill to her. Over 70% of domestic violence murders happen after the victim has ended the relationship, after she is gotten out. Because then the abuser has nothing left to lose. Other outcomes include long-term stalking, even after the abuser has remarried. 

So to understand everything I have to start at the Tipping Point which is surprising because there are so many. It starts off that we are at the brick getting food; at the time we were homeless living out of his car and a tent during very bad summer storms and floods. I had the option of living with my grandparents but Vance and our dog weren’t welcome so at the time I didn’t want to lose him and couldn’t think of any other way but to just stay with him.

I’m inside the brick getting our boxes of food when he comes in with an officer behind him, he hands me his phone and his car keys; he’s being arrested for unpaid fines. I didn’t know what to do; I had no idea. I’ve never been in a situation like this. I had a dog in a hot car, a box full of food, and I needed to be at a job interview. I drove over to one of our old roommates house where he had said he would watch the dog and I could store the food and sleep until I figured out what was going on. 

Two three days went by with little to no word from him or his mom but plenty from his friend. I didn’t know what to believe at that point. Was he actually really back on drugs? He knew how I felt about things like that; it would explain a lot though was he really lying to me again? At that time with so much on my mind and a broken heart I decided I couldn’t do this no more I was done with him. 

Later on the next day I got a call from him saying that he was out and how much he missed me and that we needed to be picked up from the jail. I was on my way to work so I turned around and headed towards the jail to find him standing smiling on the sidewalk. He got into the car and his first question was as I started to drive towards work I was already late. “Where have I’ve been staying?” When I told him that I was staying at his friends house he snapped from Jekyll and Hyde. Slamming his fists into the dash and the window yelling as loud as he could. I thought he was going to hit me,I didn’t what to do. I slammed the car in the park and it immediately turn the car off throwing the keys into the passenger side floor. He’s already slamming his door closed and heading to my side when I got to the back door and started throwing my work bag amd my other duffle bag across the parking lot along with my shoes. I knew if hr drove off I might not get my stuff back and that was all I had other than one more bag of clothes at his friends. He grabbed me hard yelling in my face “Where’s my dog?” “Where are my clothes?” He tried to rip my phone from my hands but I managed to get it back, then he shoved me to the ground. By this time he caught the attention of a woman exiting her car and one of my co-workers who starting to walk over. He got in his car and floored it in reverse. I could see in his eyes when you put it in drive that he was going to hit me. I jump backwards just in time as he hit and ran over the Walgreens bag I had dropped in the fight. 

As my co-workers help me inside I called his friend and told him not to give him my clothes. He could have his dog, his clothes, his car, that I was just done with him. Later that night he showed back up at my work to profess his love and asked me to marry him when I told him he needed to leave he tried to jump over the counter. One of my co-workers had to tell him to leave otherwise he was going to call the cops. The next morning he broke into his friends house by pushing the AC out and standing on a chair climbing through the window and knocking over a TV. I left it up to his friend on whether or not he was going to press charges, he did end up calling the cops. We give our statements after that I packed up my things I knew I wasn’t safe there. 

After that, I got a restraining order with help from the women shelter but like he told me even before he laid a hand on me it was only a piece of paper. He proved that by approached multiple times after that telling me I had nothing to be afraid of that he “,just wanted to be my friend,” or when he saw me walking he asked if I wanted a ride each time I told him know that if he didn’t leave at call the cops. It was about 2 months after this when I unblocked him for some reason and sent him a message. I don’t know what made me think that he would have changed. But he invited me over to see his house that he was renting that had plenty of room for a family. He told me that the dog miss me too. All those things, it just sucked me right back in. From then on it was his goal two break me and isolate me from my friends and family. Don’t get me wrong the first month I was back it was great we made that house our home, we went out and did fun things but as time got closer to his court date things began getting worse. He would destroy one room at a time throwing me through and against furniture, trying to burn my clothes in the closet; but still I stayed I didn’t ask for help. I was literally brainwashed. I hope that I could help change him or he would stop because he really did love me but instead the punches kept coming. It didn’t matter when I got home from work and was exhausted he said,” you’re mine I do what I want at things that are mine”, as he held me down and forced himself on me. The following days consisted of him saying that he was going to leave and “go end it all”. He always came back though.

Now it’s October 17th …..

I still remember it like it was yesterday and probably always will. I’m in a sports bra, teal T-shirt, blue basketball shorts and fuzzy slipper socks. I was in bed that morning from just getting home from work. He had left to go cut wood with his friend. I was awoken by very loud frantic bangs on the front door as soon as I open the door he pinned me against the porch wall. Something is pressed to my neck he was screaming spit flying in rage “What did you do? Tell me what you did? I Know What You Did!” Over and over. By this time my chest is starting to get wet and I’m screaming that I had no idea what he was talking about. He grabbed me by my hair dragging me into the living room; that looked like nothing had happened the night before. I always cleaned up and tried to fix what I could but this was different there was something in his eyes. He pushed me into the chair and told me to shut my mouth. I remember touching my neck and feeling something warm and sticky on my hand blood. How bad is it? What am I going to do? I tried to get up to get something to stop the bleeding but he he grabs me and throws me through a glass top coffee table, he picks me up by the collar of my shirt and this time through the matching glass top end table. 

Now I’m lying on the floor there’s glass all around us he grabs a big shard of the broken table. I immediately grabbed his hand knowing his intentions. That’s when it really hit me. He was going to kill me and I needed to fight or I was going to die. After finally knocking the piece of glass away from his grasp, I couldn’t believe it, like a rabid dog he latched on my lower jaw biting down so hard I thought he was going to tear flesh. He stood up over top of me with this Twisted look on his face and with his new boots I got him he began to stomp and stomp on my chest. Then he said, “I’m sure glad these are waterproof because well what is whatever percent water,” and then Wham the boot with what felt like the force of a train behind it hit me right in the face. “Now maybe that’ll keep you down,” he said as he walked over to the chair and sat down. What felt like hours was possibly 20-30 minutes long I don’t know all concept of time was gone at that point. I could feel in each and every piece of glass that was underneath me but I didn’t dare to move. Then the friend he was with earlier that day came through the door he saw what was going on the blood, the glass, the destruction. He tried to talk to him saying things like “,it will work out that there were other ways”. But even a childhood friend, a man like a brother to him was not getting through to this man I no longer even recognized. He got back on top of me grabbing me by the collar of my shirt slamming me against the floor into the piece of glass even more. In a collision of bodies his friend was on top of him yelling “,you have to stop let’s talk,” Vance’s reply was this “none of you are leaving today I’ll make sure of that,” in that moment I didn’t know where the strength came from I couldn’t see the whites of either of their eyes. I ran through the dining room, into the kitchen, to the back door. It’s locked! My hands felt like spaghetti and all I could think of was he was right behind me. I finally got it and started running I didn’t even stop to open the screen door. I just had to keep going one more block no… that’s not far enough two blocks. I’ve got to hide! I ran up the alley to the second house, the odds of picking this house. 

The back door was unlocked I ran in so fast and duct below the window as I slammed it shut. I started clenching my neck from behind I heard a women’s voice, “What are you doing in my house get out!” I turned to see this woman and the color fade from her face. She puts her arms around me guiding me to the kitchen. “Who did this to you?” As I caught my breath I explained that my boyfriend had just attacked me but he tried to kill me. They insisted on bringing me to the ER right away I pleaded with them a few more minutes. She took me into the bathroom to clean up my face and assess the situation. 

In that moment, looking in the mirror I didn’t even recognize the person looking back. My hair was in gobs mangled from the sticky blood, my shirt was torn down the middle almost in half and covered in blood, on my face a dark purple bruise was already forming where he bit me, my eyes are black and blue and a nearly perfect boot print covered the side of my face. My lips are split and then I really saw it. It was like a Nike Swoosh across my neck still bleeding we held the damp paper towel to it before I finally let them drive me to the ER. Still in my fuzzy slipper socks and blue shorts I walked into the ER. From there I went to a safe house for the night with 12 stitches in my neck ….2 more centimeters is what I was told just two more .. He was taken into custody by law enforcement the same day. Initially charged with attempted first-degree homicide, use of a dangerous weapon, domestic abuse, false imprisonment, Mayhem, strangulation and Suffocation, and bail jumping. He was found guilty of attempted first-degree intentional homicide, use of a dangerous weapon, and domestic abuse. It took a year for the finally go to court. A year since I’ve seen the man I thought cared about me but then tried to take my life. Most of the things said in court are mostly just a blur now. He made me feel pathetic scum-of-the-earth, he stripped Away my self-worth layer by layer until there was nothing left of the person I used to be. I felt the weight of the world was bearing down on me and suffocated me to the point that I’d disappear and no one would even know that I was gone or that I was to blame for what was happening to me. But I realized you must not hate people who have done wrong to us for as soon as we begin to hate them we become just like them; pathetic, bitter, and untrue. Most people know me as the girl who got her throat slit; concerned with why I stayed in abusive relationship, rather than all the terrible things that happened. 

Now I am focused on my family and my finance who is the sweetest man I’ve ever meet. Abuse only thrives in silence so I change you and others around you to be silent no more talk to your significant other, family members coworkers, children, even strangers about the effects of domestic violence. If you hear someone even joking about domestic violence speak up tell them that that’s not okay and if they want a joke about that they should do it somewhere else. Together we can do something.

**If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, there is help. You can visit the Break the Silence website at, chat with one of our helpline advocates at 855-287-1777, or send a private message through our Facebook page.


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Brutal Love

September 21st 2019 

I sit alone in my perfectly organized house, immaculate due to an abundance of idle time. I glance at the clock which reads 3am I force myself to get up off the couch. I rinse my ice cream bowl. I wonder to myself what mood will he be in if he chooses to return from this bender on this morning. I start my bedtime routine by going upstairs and washing my face, getting into pajamas and tucking myself into bed. My only company, our loyal dog Waylen who nestles on my feet at the base of the bed. I feel anxious, worried he is dead. But then part of me feels relieved because I don’t have to deal with anything crazy this morning before work.

As I drift off to sleep I am awoken by the muffled sound of a loud exhaust through the dense falling snow. I get up and run to the bedroom window. I see Andy’s truck. Oh no! Trent’s home. I rush downstairs while wrapping my heavy fleece rob around myself. I put on my ugg boots so I can walk onto the front porch.

I stand by in dismay as Andy gets out of his truck. I don’t see anyone in the passenger seat. Then Andy comes around the back of his truck and drops the tailgate. He tugs at something to dislodge it from the deep snow on the bed of his truck. A body comes sliding off the truck and lands with a thud in the snowbank at the end of my driveway. I recognize Trent’s lifeless body. Andy looks at me with a long drawn face. “He’s all yours, I can’t take anymore tonight.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” I yearn for answers. Trent has been gone for over 24 hours and I have had no contact. I had sent a million text messages with no response.

Andy replies “We’ve been at hunting camp. He got into an argument with another guy at camp. So I decided I would offer him a ride home. But in the truck he started pointing his loaded gun out the window and threatening to shoot into random houses as we drove by. Then I wrestled him into the back of the truck which wasn’t much of a fight. His gun is in my truck I’m taking it with me. Tell him he can call me in the morning for it. When he’s sober.”

I look at Trent’s frozen body. His lips are purple. “What am I supposed to do with him? I can’t leave him here and I sure as hell can’t carry him in the house.”

“I will get him in the house. Then I’m done.” Andy states. He then grabs him by the ankles as if he were a dead deer being dragged ready for hanging and butchering. Trent’s body leaves a trail through the fresh fallen snow. Andy doesn’t even hesitate when he reaches the front steps swiftly he drags Trent’s body his head bouncing off each step. He pulls him far enough into the entry way to close the door.

“Andy, I need more information. Who did he get into the fight with? Why was he trying to hurt innocent people on the drive home?”

Andy simply asks “You got a joint?” I quickly retrieve one. We sit together and smoke while Trent’s body thaws on the floor. As he slowly exhales a big cloud of smoke he looks at me with his giant dark eyes and says “I’m just so exhausted. I will tell you more tomorrow. I need to get home to bed.” As Andy pulls away I watch his truck lights disappear in the thick falling snow. Then I kneel down beside Trent and lay my head on his chest. He is breathing and his heart is beating. I decide it’s best to leave him where he lies for the night.

I once again climb into my comfy bed with Waylen at my side. When suddenly I am awoken to a hard cold object pressing on my forehead. I gasp. I open my eyes and there is Trent standing beside our bed with a riffle between my eyes. I slide to the other side of the bed as I sit up. He then points the gun at Waylen and says “I will kill him, then you and then myself.”

My mind starts racing. Where did he get the gun? Andy said he took his gun with him. Then I remember there was another behind the freezer in the laundry room. Fuck. Why is he so mad? Waylen is crouching in fear and shivering. The only thing I know to do is to be normal. So I say “Are you hungry? Can I make you something to eat?”

He screams like there is a demon inside of him. “Fuuuuuck you, you will never understand me!”

“I want to try so please just let me make you something to eat and we can talk about it.” I then get out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen. He follows close on my heels with the gun tucked under his forearm. He is so drunk he needs to lean against the wall as he stubbles down the stairs. I fumble around the kitchen trying to prepare a grilled cheese but I’m shaking so bad and my mind is spinning. He stands in the doorway to the kitchen swaying trying to focus his eyes. I decide this is my moment I lunge toward him to grab the gun. I get a firm hold with both hands and being twisting and pulling. I rip it free. I run for the front door and throw it into the deep snow.

“You stupid bitch” he slurs. He then tries to push me aside to retrieve the gun. I run ahead of him and try to bury it in the snow. I am in my pajamas and the snow is so cold it burns my finger tips as I vigorously continue to dig. Suddenly I feel the weight of his body on top of me. He presses my face into the freezing snow. It feels like needles are ripping away my skin. Then I feel his fingers dig into my side as he flip me onto my back. He pins my hands down over my head and his face is inches from mine. “Come on honey, let’s go to bed, I want to hold your sexy body.” His breath reeks of alcohol. He gets off me and takes my hand to help me up out of the snow. I take his hand grateful he has stopped trying to find the gun.

We climb into our bed and he spoons me from behind. He falls asleep quickly and I feel his breath on the back of my neck and it sends shivers down my spine with every exhale. I can’t even close my eyes. I just wait for an hour till I have to get up for work.

My alarm sounds at 6am. I get up like any other day and shower, do my hair, do my make-up. I check on him before I leave and he is peacefully snoring under the covers in our bed. As I drive into the clear morning after the storm I blare my music in my shit box 1986 Jetta and I begin to cry. Tears which carry so much pain. Pained not from the traumatic experience of the night before. But rather pained because this is not the first time an incident like this has happened but this is the worst experience thus far. I cry because I know this is the beginning of the end. I cry because I know I must muster up unimaginable strength. I cry because I’m scared of what’s to come if I don’t. And worst of all I cry because I love him.