Monday, October 26, 2009
As a victim of domestic violence you never think that the people around you know what's going on in your life. You try so hard all the time to keep it secret that when it finally comes out no matter how bad it is there is a sense of relief on your part.
We moved to Baltimore in July 2000 and our daughter, Kiah was born in February 2001. They say that when a victim becomes pregnant that the violence becomes worse and I'm not sure that is true in my instance. I think he remained pretty much consistent throughout our whole relationship. It was the end of February and I remember getting to go out for the first time with out the kids to the local mall. I remember I had bought this dress that was a little form fitting and it had this chain belt. I couldn't wait to try it on for him thinking that after being pregnant for the last nine month he would find me attractive again. I returned to the apartment to find it empty so I went upstairs to his parents apartment to find his mother watching the kids. I was a little disappointed because I had been impressed that he had offered to stay home with the kids while I went out. Now I found out he took the kids to his parents and had went somewhere. I picked up the kids and took them home just waiting for him to return so I could show him what I had bought.
As soon as he walked in the door I could tell that he wasn't himself. He just walked throughout the apartment and was very silent as if he was looking for something. Thinking I could cheer him up I decided to put on the dress. This only made matter worse. He started to question where I had been and who I had been with. I proceeded to tell him every little thing I had done in the past few hours, even showing him receipts from the store and my bus pass. I learned very quickly to be able to account for my wear about down to the minute. I don't know why I did this cuz he never believed me. I could have receipts, witnesses but as far as he was concerned I was a liar and a cheat.
He started to tell me how I looked like a whore in the dress and proceeded to rip the dress off of me. I remember being crouched down in the fetal position in the corner as he would come and go from the room hitting and kicking me each time he would return. He then took a pair of scissors and cut up my favorite boots and most of my cloths. This lasted what seemed like hours all the while my 2 year old boy was in the next room and my newborn daughter lay in her crib. Things would die down for periods at a time but I dared not move as it might spark something in him to start up again. At some point my daughter began to cry and still I froze and did not move until he told me to. I was allowed to get up and fix her a bottle. I decided to hold her and try to feed her thinking that as long as I had her in my arms I would be safe from his attacks. Oh was I so wrong. He decided then as I sat there holding our 1 month old daughter to take the scissors and cut off my hair stating "IF YOUR GONNA ACT LIKE A WHORE THEN I'M GONNA MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE ONE!" I could not do anything I had to just sit there and let him do it. I had my daughter in my arms and I dared not try and fight him when he had scissors in his hands.
He then took our daughter out of my arms and put her back in her crib so that he could resume his attack on me. This time ordering me to strip down and give him oral sex. It was at this time while he lay in the bed that I started to undress in the doorway and saw my chance to escape.
I was able to get out the door with just a t-shirt on and make my way upstairs to his parents apartment.
Knocking on their door was a hard thing for me to do because now my secret would no longer be a secret. Truth is they already knew but as long as we never talked out about it I could pretend it was a secret.
I thought knocking on their door was hard, but the truth is what came next would mean breaking my silence to my family. The same week this all happened my mother had planned a trip to come visit me and I now know that this is what sparked some of William's rage. He knew with my mother coming our situation would become public and his secret would be out. Calling and telling my mother what had happened was hard but having to meet her at the airport with a bruised face and my new hair cut was humiliating. I hated that I had to let my mother see me in this condition. My secret would now be out in the open and everyone would know.