Chapter 6 Josie #2
I feel the bile rising. Too many nights, no matter how much I tried not to engage, tried to do all the things to keep his anger at bay, and how many nights I lost the battle.
He relished an argument, the more riled he got, the more it turned him on.
How can hurting someone you claim to love turn you on? I’ll never understand it.
That is Brett. Everything was a fight including sex.
Early on, he could be gentle. Although, I must admit the memories of those times fade with every bruise he leaves on my flesh.
The kind, giving lover didn’t last, though, and soon the only way for him to finish was to inflict some kind of pain to my body.
The sweet man wanting to be my rock was nothing more than a facade.
A mirage of his creation, I must admit he played it well.
The slow stoking of the fire in time was a blazing inferno of Hell.
My personal Hell.
From moment to moment, I don’t know what will come next.
Even now, I don’t live with him, but I still can’t predict what may come.
When we shared a residence, the only place I felt safe was here at work especially towards the end.
Except with every phone call he’s robbing me of this too.
No place is safe, I have to accept it. The cops can’t keep me safe, the judge, the paperwork, it means nothing to him.
I can’t keep me safe; he finds me and hurts me every time.
“This line is monitored, Brett. You aren’t supposed to be calling me,” I attempt reminding him of our court order of protection while also hoping to diffuse the entire situation. “You don’t want to have to go in front of the judge again. I don’t want that for you either.”
“Puppet, you don’t understand. I love you. I love JJ and we are a family.”
The frustration builds inside me, “we were for a time, but Brett it didn’t work.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. “You have some demons you need to face. I can’t help you and neither can my son. You have to get healthy.”
Instantly, his tone is sharp. “Oh this is my fault! I told you my expectations. It’s not hard, Josie.
You failed to meet my needs. I didn’t give up on us, you did.
I simply punished you. A consequence for disobedience.
That’s life. Like a child, they fail to do something they are instructed to do there is a punishment. You got what you deserved.”
I push back the tears. I failed. He’s right I did, but not like he means. I failed to pick up the pieces after losing Jonah. I failed to remain clearheaded as I navigated life as a widow. I absolutely failed to see the red flags and run the other way.
“You made a vow to me forever. I didn’t walk out on you. I didn’t change the rules between us, you did. I didn’t do anything but love you, embrace you, and take care of our family. You broke your vows; you brought this pain on us both.”
The guilt consumes me. I have to silently talk myself down. His words don’t have power anymore. I’m not a child; I’m not his child. It is not his responsibility to give me expectations, commands, orders, or any fucking thing! More than that it isn’t his place to punish me!
“You didn’t punish me, Brett. You beat me.” I say the words letting them sink in. It has taken me months to admit this is how bad things were between us. Even now, I can only manage to whisper it. “You abused me, Brett. No one should live in fear of their spouse.”
“You’re afraid of me?” he asks softening his tone. How can he not see it?
As much as it kills me to admit, “yes, I am.”
I want to be the superhero mom who isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. To do that would be to lie, not only to Brett, the world, but most importantly I would be lying to myself.
I am done doing that.
I am done explaining it away.
I am done justifying his behaviors.
I am done accepting his actions.
I am done trying to tell myself, more importantly my son, that this is some type of love.
Love doesn’t hurt.
Full stop. Do not move. Do not pass go. This isn’t a board game of life.
Love does not hurt.
Jonah loved me, his love didn’t hurt. The loss of it, though, destroyed me.
My love for my son doesn’t hurt, I would move mountains for him.
Brett, his love hurts.
It kills emotions.
It crushes my confidence.
It hurts physically.
From all sides, every direction, Brett harms me.
That is not the way to live my life. Most importantly, it is not the life to raise my son in.
I have never experienced domestic violence before.
My parents have checked out and lost their minds, sure, but not once did either of them put their hands on me or my sister.
I didn’t grow up being talked down to, belittled.
I have never once encountered anyone who took pleasure in bringing hurt to another soul. Not like Brett.
He loves my pain. He gets off on it.
After every attack, when the adrenaline slowed, he had to have a release.
Whether I wanted to or not.
He had to feel our connection, his words, not mine.
Even when I said no, he took what he wanted from my body.
By the end, I became numb.
Numb to his words.
Numb to his actions.
Numb to his form of love.
Piece by piece he took every good emotion from me. Leaving me empty, devoid of anything for him but pain and sadness.
Now, I want out. There is no way to fix this. I can never trust him with my mind, body, spirit, or heart. Now, my fear is he won’t let me go.
Beyond that, what if he won’t let Justice go?
What can I do? How do I move on? How do I get myself out of this when everything I have tried has failed over and over again?
“You’re afraid of me?” he repeats with a stunned tone.
“Yes,” the word comes out in a whisper as it kills me to admit.
I am afraid.
For my son, for my future, and for my peace, yes, where Brett is concerned, I am afraid. I have no other words to describe it. Fear consumes me.
There is this awkward silence. I should hang up. Why I don’t is beyond me. Obviously, there is nothing else to say between us. Yet, here I sit holding the phone with him on the line waiting for the next bomb to drop. The beep comes through making me jump. It’s my cell phone text alert.
Sara: Come to my office at your earliest convenience today.
He must have heard the noise as suddenly he begins to laugh. The laugh I know too well. The one that means he’s angry.
“Very well, Puppet. It’s best you fear me.”
The line goes dead at the same time my blood runs cold. With a trembling hand I manage to get the receiver back on its base.
Time stands still as I sit in my office chair wondering how bad it will be this time.
I know it in my gut, he’s going to kill me. It’s only a matter of time.
The next message to come through on my cell is from an unknown number.
I’ll see you soon, Puppet.
Once again, my world crashes around me.