Death Row (You ask me why I never left)

On 11/9/10, I posted the opening paragraph to the following story I wrote on July 18, 2005 after my ex's new girlfriend asked me "why I never left." I now have the courage to share the rest of my story.

Death Row

You ask me why I never left.  I recently told my domestic violence advocate that it was safer to remain on death row.  Despite the abuse, I could at least see my family.  I could still take care of my diabetic cat.  I chose to remain on death row until he finally broke up with me.  He needs to feel in control, and every time I spoke of leaving or began to make plans to rent a new place, he got angrier and angrier.  His anger scared me.  His death threats scared me.  Death row prolonged the abuse, but it also prolonged the possibility of death.  At any moment, my number could be called.  My time could be up.  His anger could escalate, and the final blow to my head would be fatal.  There were days when I would think, “I wonder if this will be the day I will die.” 

August 22, 2003:  He bashed my head into the wall causing a closed head injury.  I called 911, and he only spent 4 hours in jail.  He then made me pay him back $5000 for the lawyer and bail money over the next year.  I even wrote a check directly to his lawyer.  I chose not to go to the hospital but recovered at a motel in Watsonville.  I could not turn my head for over three days.  

Since then, he has grabbed my ponytail, dragged me down the hall, and banged my head on the wall.

He has spit on me, thrown water on me, and spent hours chasing me through the house pouring lotion all over my hair and clothes.

He has choked me, causing me to fall back on the dryer and bang my head on the pantry shelf.

He has punched his closed fist onto my head multiple times.

He has socked me in the arm several times while driving.

He has socked me several times on my left shoulder blade while giving me a massage.

He has banged my head with a light bulb multiple times.

He threatened to bash my head in with a rock and throw me over a cliff, making it look like a suicide.  He later denied making the actual threat; instead, he explained that he made the statement since he thought I was suicidal, and he wanted to help me commit suicide.

He later asked, “What am I going to do with you—put you in a hole?”  He later told me to choose what I wanted to have written on my headstone.

He has broken my cell phone (to keep me from calling 911 again), the coffee table, my flashlight, and many other items.  He took a knife to an Easter bunny and tore all of the stuffing out.  He has threatened to hurt my cat.

He has now confessed to being involved with many of his women friends behind my back.  He says that his promiscuity is perfectly O.K. because he was "done" with me two years ago.

He claims he has chosen you over me because you do not provoke him to anger.  But I have been abused for moving the car seat forward, moving a kitchen magnet to a different spot on the refrigerator, removing a price tag from a dog toy, removing a fan from a shelf, gaining 20 lbs on the anti-anxiety drug Paxil, for asking any kind of question, for speaking or for not speaking, and for bringing home Kentucky Fried Chicken (even when I was verbally abused the previous month for not bringing home chicken).

He hated me and everything about me.