Prisoner

I always felt like a prisoner in my abusive relationship, starting from the moment I found it impossible to break free after everything changed on the ninth day of our being together.

Two years had now passed, and my head had been bashed into the wall only a week earlier.  Here I was back with him even though we now technically lived apart.  I did not recognize my own self then and how I could remain with the man who had so violently hurt me just seven days earlier.  My life was surreal ~ the abuse was surreal ~ and the ability to break free seemed infinitely out of reach.

It suddenly hit me ~ how much I was truly a prisoner of my own life with him ~ as we headed toward a shady park one late summer night ~ with our junk food from Jack in the Box, his new puppy Jack, and his now nearly 15-year-old son in tow.  The evening was abuse-free ~ but as I entered that dimly lit park after hours ~ planted myself at a picnic table ~ watched Little Jack run playfully through the grass ~ as I started to eat my greasy tacos, I suddenly felt like Elizabeth Smart with the ability to physically run away from her captor but without the mindset to even try. 

The park was scary at night, and I remember seeing evidence of homeless living in the bushes.  The park was next to an apartment housing complex known for drug dealing.   I was more scared of the park than of him in that moment.  Why did he bring us here this late summer night?  Could we have not just eaten in the restaurant or even in the car?  Why had we driven 7 miles from Felton in the first place just for fast food?

Over and over in my head, I kept remembering young kidnap victim Elizabeth Smart going from park to park with her captors ~ shrouded under a veil ~ only mine was imaginary ~ my veil was my ability to be a good actress in public ~ to keep my secret hidden ~ so the abuse stayed hidden from family and from strangers.

I wanted to leave in that moment ~ knowing how viciously this man had attacked me just seven days earlier ~ how I had just spent three days recovering in a motel in Watsonville ~ how he chose where to move me down the alley to Bob's house ~ just so he could know where I lived ~ and still have his way with me ~ all while seemingly following "the rules" of the restraining order put on him by the sheriff ~as we began our journey together to get the case dropped.

Where was the little girl who ran for school president? Who sang in the choir? Who starred in the school play? Where was the little girl who dreamed of becoming a writer just like Jo did in "Little Women"?  Where did she go?

Why was she here in this park late at night with her captor and his son? Watching the most beautiful minature dachshund prance around so happily.  She could not find happiness in that moment because any shred of happiness was destroyed with every bashing to her head just seven days earlier.

She was lost along the way, but no one knew she was missing.