A Voice Out of Darkness

 A broken nose and 4 black eyes later returning for more lies and reasons for being there, only to have the same doctor give me medicines for the pain, stitches for the cuts and return me to the nightmare that had become life. I never told anyone at that time what was happening to me for fear of my boyfriend finding out that I had stepped out of the house to even breath fresh air, let alone talk to anyone about the issues I was going through. (Every single phone call to my mother was listened in on by Taylor.)
I know the neighbors had to have heard the fights and my screams for him to stop but no one ever called it in (the beatings would have been worse I am sure.) I would have been punished for them calling.  I was punished for not being whom he was messing around with. He always cheated on me, but I never had the guts to point that out until years after I had escaped him. I stood face to face with the demon that became the hardest thing in my life to face, in the same apartment I was beaten so many times in. And yes, I know he will never openly admit to beating me for in his eyes it was my fault he did it; which is never the case.
Here is a simple fact to remember:
That was something I wish I had known and I wish I did not have to learn the hard way. My boyfriend’s favorite thing after beating me was giving me flowers to say he was sorry. He was sorry alright; sorry he didn't get the chance to beat me to death, like his grandfather almost did to his grandmother in front of him when he was a child. I did not know these things until his younger brother (a police officer) told me years after I got free and clear of him. His brother told me his father beat his mother and grandfather beat his grandmother, a violent chain that could not be broken if nothing was ever done to make it stop (that is why he became a police officer) but he did in fact make it stop, on the last day I was about to be beaten into nothing; the last day I stood toe to toe with my boyfriend. But that is yet to be told....
Through all the years of tears and lies that I had thought I needed to use to hide from my abuse. My little sister told me one day about the song that plays on the main page here in this place, called Concrete Angel. She told me, "This song reminds me of you." I never listened to the song until a few minutes ago. I watched the video and see what she meant by me, “the concrete angel”.... I am a survivor of many years of domestic violence. It has left scars that I cannot hide, and no longer lie about, to save the fact it happened to me.... It started at age 14 from a man that I was dating that was 24; yes I know I was too young, but love it is blind and stupid, as was I at the time. As in most young romance you never see the abuser for what they really are, abusers of one type or another, be it drugs, drinking, sex, or whatever they abuse. In most cases these things should have been the red flags that I could have seen, but alas none where there for me to see (most likely I did not want to see them). All the flags where indeed there but I thought “n ah not me, it’s not gonna happen, he loves me”, the wrong kind of love I looked for, only to find out after many beatings...and there were many, that have never where spoken of until today.
I was cut off from my family my one and only true female friend, and anything outside of the apartment where most of the abuse happened. I was indeed (what they call) a trophy girlfriend, pretty and young; everyone looked at me when I walked into a room and heads turned;  but that got me in bad trouble. I was not to be seen as a human but a prize to be won, not a human, not an equal, but a trophy. That he so called won, from whom I do not know to this day. It started when I was 14 but the real, so called “dating” (if that is what it was) did not start till the summer that I was 15, but as I have stated love it is blind and stupid as was I at that time in life. My boyfriend and I lived in the same town. He grew up there as I did but years apart. I used to listen to him on the radio before we met. .
Then during the summer of 1985, he was on location for the local radio station, doing a live broadcast for the local public swimming pool. I was there for the sun the fun and free records and cassettes, and I met Taylor He was tall and looked younger than what I guessed might have been 20 (wrong again he as 24.) He had everyone fooled for what seemed forever. At that time I was dating a young man named Henry. Henry was a few months older than me. He saw how I was acting and got upset, but I didn't care; I had an older man paying attention to me! So I blew off the fact Henry saw me flirting with Taylor.
Most of the abuse I suffered was due to brainwashing. I was brainwashed into believing that is was how life was, that no matter what I did it was o k for my boy friend to beat me for things that I never even did, and,  years after running for my life from him, I found out, that I was beat for things that HE did. 
I can remember being in the hospital 4 times after being beaten for things I am not even sure why it happened, but there I sat, telling the doctor (and I am sure he knew better) that I fell down the stairs and tripped or slipped in the shower getting out.

Jenay's World

A voice Out of Darkness