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I met him when I was 16. We started dating in December 2005. I thought that life couldn't get any better. He was handsome, and funny. He cared about me, truly cared about it. It wasn't about sex. Fast Forward to February, things started going down hill, and FAST. At first it started out just pushing, eventually pushing led to pushing off of a 5FT tall porch flat on my back. He apologized, as he had SO many times before. I forgave him, I'm clumsy and I always know how to push his buttons. Soon after he began the hitting. It kept getting harder and harder. Mostly after we talked about "having children". He NEEDED a son. He wanted to be a father. Granted, I was 16, I was an only child, I wanted NO kids. I wasn't even sure if I wanted children down the road. I was young, I wanted more out of life. That's when it started getting REALLY bad. I was used to covering up black eyes and bruises on my body. I was used to covering up busted lips. I was NOT used to going to the emergency room for broken bones and stab wounds. I pulled it off though. No one ever suspected. And those that knew, most his family, told me to stay out of his way when he was angry, that he truly loved me. After all, that's all I wanted. I wanted to be loved. April came around, and the abuse got stronger. We went to a party were we both acted like the children we were and got completely wasted. We were crashing at a friends house afterwards, everyone was gone. He "forced" himself on top of me and made sure that we were gonna have a child. "We were gonna be a family" were his exact words. I was young and stupid. I couldn't report this as rape. We have had sex before. He was my "boyfriend" it was something that I opened myself up to. Or so I thought. 5 months passed and this went on many times. I couldn't break up with him. He actually cared about me. If he didn't care about me he wouldn't get so angry. RIght? Wrong. I found out I was pregnant. 17 years old and here I am, pregnant. I was scared even more now. I definitely couldn't talk myself out of leaving. We had to be a family. He was excited and backed off for a while. Then when I was about 8 months pregnant it started again. This time full force. I wasn't happy, he knew I wasn't happy and I was ready to leave. I had grown emotionally attached to the baby that was growing within me and I KNEW I had to do everything in my power to protect her. I had to be a mother. When he found out I was wanting to leave, he went crazy. He told me he wanted an abortion. He told me either I "took care of it" or he would. I went to his mom crying, she told me she would talk to him that it would all be ok. The next time is when it all went to shit. He pushed me down the stairs at his aunt's house, met me at the bottom of the stairs with this big knife. He held it to my stomach, and was yelling. I couldn't even tell you what he said I zoned out. He then kicked me and walked away. Like nothing happen. I was hysterical. I couldn't stop crying. He's cousin came in and helped me up. He looked at me and told me he would call my mom to come get me. He told me NEVER to come back over here. He was the only one through the whole thing that seemed to understand. I got out and NEVER went back. He came up to the hospital for my daughters birth. I tried to forgive him. I was stupid. I know I was stupid. But it doesn't mean that it was my fault. I was young and naive. I wanted to be loved. I wanted something that I hadn't felt before. I've left out a lot of details and events because it's not important. I was asked by a close friend to help her spread the word. That just because you are a strong person doesn't mean that it won't or can't happen to you. I spoke up. I walked out. I filed for a restraining order. I moved hundreds of miles away. I love my daughter with every ounce of my being and I couldn't bring her into that. I did it because I wanted to live. I wanted my daughter to live.
It only took 7 broken bones. countless bruises and cuts, and a handful of stab wounds to realize that I was better than that.
