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Warning: This story contains adult content, disturbing discriptions, sexual content, and is not recommended for the faint of heart.
I opened my eyes and felt like I had been sleeping for an eternity. My body was drained and I felt like I had been hit by a car. I felt groggy and slowly began looking around. I realized that I still had an I.V. in my arm. I hate these things, I thought as I tried to position my arm so that I was somewhat comfortable.
I shifted myself up and looked out the window. The sky was a solid deep black sheet and it must have been around 3 in the morning. I had no clock in my hospital room and no one thought to bring my cell phone when we rushed over here in frenzy.
I pressed the button for the nurse to see if I could get more pain killers. I couldn't believe how much my body hurt and I could barely move. I must have been in the hospital more than any "healthy" person I ever knew. There were times that I could remember being embarrassed as I could hear the nurses whispering about me, or maybe it was just in my head. Either way the thought of being here again was making me sick.
On the bright side, I was happy to have a private hospital room this time. My TV worked, and aside from the pain, things could have been worse. I had been through a lot in the last 7 years and if I could remember correctly over that period of time, this would be the 12th time I was a patient in this hospital. I wasn't dying, I wasn't elderly, and I didn't have any illness. I was actually 100% healthy. My only sickness was being too weak to take control of my path in life, subjecting me to the horrors that I have been through.
The drugs were making me groggy and I almost forgot what I was in the hospital for this time. I tried to fight the tired feeling that possessed my body, but eventually I slowly drifted into an uncomfortable slumber. A night that I had tucked into my subconscious resurfaced in my dream.
I've always considered my marriage to be difficult; however there was one night that I knew my marriage officially ended in my heart as something dark and evil began.
Frank and I had what I would have called a regular marriage. We were young and both trying to provide for our family. He was very distant at times, but I always figured that it was because of horrific, unspeakable, and inhumane situations that was he exposed to at his work.
We were both exhausted one night and he was in the shower as I crawled into my bed. I noticed something lacy against my leg and reached down to grab the object. I pulled it out from under the covers and just stared at it in disbelief for a minute. At the same time, my husband, Frank was just getting out of the bathroom and came out with a towel wrapped around his waist.
I had tears of anger forming in my eyes as I approached him. I was furious and I knew better than to battle with Frank, but I had limits as to what I could deal with as a wife and this was far beyond what I was willing to tolerate. I tried to control my anger but I couldn't.
"What the hell is this?" I asked throwing a pink leopard thong at him.
"Not now Victoria," he said brushing me off as if it was a small inconvenience to him that I was upset.
Not now? I was floored as he continued about his routine. I had just found physical evidence that he was cheating on me and he didn't even feel the need to deny it or explain himself. I always had the gut feeling that something wasn't right, but being that this was my first and only relationship I didn't know how to follow my instincts.
"How could you bring some whore into our house? Into OUR bed?" All of my anger towards him was so strong and couldn't believe it. I tried to control my voice but I was yelling at him and woke up our 3 year old son, Nick. He started crying and I went over to try to soothe him until he fell asleep again.
Frank was annoyed that I had the nerve to question anything he was doing.
"What difference does it make if I screw them here, in my car, or at the club, I'm the man of the house… you have no right to question what I do."
"Frank you know how disgusting you sound? I'm your wife."
"So what? I take care of you. I don't see you complaining when you drive off in the Beamer that I bought you. But you're quick to bitch about what I'm doing."
"You're not even sorry," I said hurt. "I would give up the car and everything else for you to respect me. You can't even see how much it hurts me for you to bring someone into our bed," I waited again hoping for an apology, or some sign or remorse, but when he just shrugged with nothing else to say I could feel my face burning red with anger. I hated him for making me miserable and treating me this way. Rage took over my pain and I threw myself at him and started hitting him uncontrollably.
"How could you do this to me? I'll never forgive you…" I yelled as my little fists landed into his chest and arms not even causing an ounce of damage. I knew I couldn't actually physically hurt him, but I didn't care. I was infuriated that despite the amount of disrespect he has already shown towards me, this was the lowest blow so far. I thought this was the worst thing that a husband could do to his wife, but little did I know. At that time I was only 24 and was very wrong.
I knew he had a lot of pride and I would anger him by getting physical with him, but I thought I knew him and would have never expected him to get physical back. He lifted his hand high and with one quick motion the back of his hand met with my face. My body was easily thrown to the ground. I lifted my hand to my stinging cheek and stared at him in shock.
I was surprised at his behavior and thought this was as far as he would go, but he was apparently only beginning. He punched me twice in the faced causing me to scream out in pain. Our son woke up again and was crying as he watched his father repeatedly punch his mother.
My face was throbbing and my lip was bleeding as he continued to assault me. I wanted to fight back but I knew there was no point. I tried to curl up into a ball to shield myself and continued to feel blows into my arms, head, and upper body.
I begged him to stop as I continued to hear Nick crying in the background. Every part of my body felt bruised as he didn't hold back, all of his 255lbs of force beating against my 125 pound body. He cursed at me calling me every filthy degrading name that existed. He spit on me and pulled my hair telling me I deserved everything I had coming to me.
I felt tears stream down my face and couldn't understand how I became the one who was wrong. I was such a good wife, and mother to his 3 children, and I didn't deserve it.
It happened really fast but I was in a daze from receiving so many blows to the head and couldn't fight back any more. My body just lay there limp on the cold floor as I felt him tear at my clothes. He removed his towel and roughly forced himself onto me. Again I screamed and begged for him to stop, knowing that the baby was watching everything, but he didn't care. I never believed that it was actually possible for a husband to rape his wife until that night.
I couldn't understand why or how he could do that to me. Sex was supposed to be something that we should be sharing intimately; instead he was violently taking it from me and used it as a weapon and a sick reminder of his power over me.
After the ordeal I was never able to look at him the same. My physical evidence of the beating was the least of the pain that I was feeling. I was emotionally scarred forever after that night, and I unleashed a demon in him that never went away afterwards. It only became unimaginably worse over time, and once he began drinking the beatings were more severe and more often. I thought I was doomed to be miserable and trapped for the rest of my life, until a glimmer of hope showed up 5 years later.