I was 17-years-old when we met at a political event in the summer of 2016. He was 38 and the Vice-Chair of a prominent political party in the state of Utah.
Within the first few minutes of us meeting, he made it very clear that he found me attractive. We quickly exchanged numbers and hung out for the remainder of the event. We shared food, drinks, and became very close. He was aware of the fact that I was a minor. The night we met, he texted me later and asked, “Do you really want to see me in November?”, which was when I would be turning 18. I was giddy and eager, but he was an adult. He knew better.
Despite him knowing I was a minor, he and I began to hang out regularly before I turned eighteen. He invited me to political events, offered me rides to and from, and paid for my food and drinks regularly at these events. Our first sexual encounter happened the October before I turned eighteen. He provided me with alcohol. Right beforehand, he held an ornate, decorative sword to my throat and joked about raping me. We had sex two or three times before I turned 18.
When I turned 18 in November of 2016, he and I began “officially” dating. Our friends within the political party pretended to act surprised. We were flooded with congratulatory messages. What they didn’t know, however, is that our relationship was already highly abusive and toxic. On my 18th birthday, he fractured my wrist after revealing the fact that he had been cheating on me with a subordinate at work.
The ways in which I was forced to cover up his abuse were elaborate and inhumane. I was isolated from my family and friends.
During the time I lived with him (I was still in high school when I moved in with him in February of 2017), I witnessed him view child pornography. To me, this was the most alarming aspect of his personality. Despite all of the abuse I endured, his predatory nature, the comments he made about his friend’s underaged daughters, and the images he stored on his phone and computer terrified me the most… but I stayed silent. At times, I feared for my life. Sex became infrequent, but when we did have it, it was violent. He began strangling me. At one point, he locked me in the trunk of his car.
I had to leave my job after seven months and drop out of college. I was so deep in my depression that it felt like I would never be able to climb out. I stopped sleeping at night out of fear and would only sleep after he went to work. Survival mode was the only state in which I was able to function.
But in 2018, I got out.
I finally gained the courage to leave after a phone call with my grandfather, just weeks before he died. He practically begged me to leave, to do something more with my life. Why I listened to him and not anyone else, I’ll never know, but it was the best decision I’ve ever made.
Today, I am married to an incredible man who treats me with love and kindness. Together, we are working through our trauma and bonding over the experiences that shaped us. We are planning for the future and picking out baby names. I recently started my business as a photographer and am in the process of writing my second and third books.
I am proof that there is life after abuse. There is peace and strength in saying it out loud.
