I will not hurt you

It was a typical October day. Halloween decorations have gone up all over the neighborhood. Maybe this year I could get my son to go trick or treating, I thought. My son and I piled into the car to go to the grocery store. The one outing he would go with me on without too many anxiety issues. It was going to be a wonderful day. I had plans to buy a pumpkin for each of us and let him win in a pumpkin carving contest, and other festive weekend plans. Just my son and myself. Seemed weird, yet blissful to think. It was my first weekend off work, and being single in our new home. Having escaped an abusive relationship a few months back. I finally felt free even though I had guilt over my son having to see all that happened; I still blamed myself for his condition. I still hated myself for what he endured.

I was free, finally. Aaron was gone, yet I still caught myself reacting to certain sounds and watching to see if anything was out of place. I was driving myself crazy. Subconsciously I reach up to the bulge on my temple. It was still there even 8 months later. It was from the last time he attacked. (I continually have flashbacks of what he put me through, of how I could not keep my own child safe.)

He told me he loved me, yet nearly beat me to death. He loved me, yet He held me as his prisoner. He loved me yet he raped me over and over. He loved me, yet he --

I shuddered remembering my unborn baby being beaten out of my uterus in one of his fits of rage.

-- yet he killed our baby! I wonder would I have had a little girl or a little boy? What would she or he look like? I think it was a little girl. She would have been 2 years old now. I failed her too.

Stop it! I am free. I cannot go back. Stop thinking about it. I seem to have to remind myself of this often. Gah, when will that end? Maybe the memories will fade when the memories that I lost begin to return, or when I finally fully physically heal. My therapist calls this Severe post-traumatic stress disorder. All I know is that I want to forget everything. Start fresh.

Today, I was determined for it to be an amazing day. Get out of your head, I tell myself. I put my seat belt on, making sure Jason is belted in, I turn the key ---

A bright light engulfs the entire car, and suddenly my son and I find ourselves someplace else. A cage. We were both in a cage, others were with us. What was this place? How did we get here? The others seemed just as confused. As if they also just arrived. A man bellowed and grabbed the bars holding us in, only to receive such a huge electric shock that it flew him across the room. Landing unnaturally on his neck. I didn’t have to get close to know he was dead. A screech came from what one can only assume was his wife. “No no no no no, Sean, baby, get up. Get up! Oh my God… someone, help me! Someone help!” she screamed, sobbing. No one came. A silence fell upon the cage, an eerie silence with only the sobs and occasional wail of the woman and in the distance, the faint sound of chains rattling. People began to sit up against the wall, carefully avoiding Sean and the woman now lying over him as if her warmth will somehow bring him back. I determined that she was in fact his wife as I saw the ring sparkling from her perfectly manicured finger. My heart broke for her but I needed to protect my son, though I was not sure from what yet. No one spoke as we all thought of our worst fear. But nothing prepared us for what happened next.

A shadow came down the dimly lit hallway, so slowly that at first, I thought my eyes were just messing with me from the darkness. Then suddenly a very tall slender dark figure approached and unlocked the cage. He was shaped somewhat human, yet somehow he was not. His arms seemed to be way too long, his head oddly shaped. Was that a hat on his head? Wait- Did I see something move from the top of his head? “This one” I heard him say.. Though ‘say’ is not the correct term as his mouth didn’t move- Um, did he even have a mouth? I could not make out one. I heard it like a sharp pain in my head… and suddenly a lady screamed. It was Sean’s wife; she fought, and to her credit, she fought hard. It was like fighting an invisible entity as we could not see what she was fighting...She was talking to it, though we could not hear what it was saying to her, just her responses. “The hell you won’t, you lying son of a bitch” Eventually, she is lifted out, floating above us. But what lifted her? I never saw hands. I never even saw anyone enter. The dark figure had remained outside the cage. What was going on? Whatever it was, it seemed to tear at her. We witnessed as invisible forces caused three deep scratches to open up on her legs and her arms. Her flesh ripped from her bone. In patterns of three. Blood pooling on the floor. Right before she disappeared around the corner we saw her body go limp. Everyone else screamed and cried, huddling together as if the masses would somehow protect them. Behind them, Sean still lay slumped over where he landed. I stood in shock... What did I just see? I shielded my son… as if that would somehow protect him. I knew it was futile but it was all I had. The dark figure locked the cage and lingered a bit before he slithered back down the hall.

Later many chatted about it and agreed that she had died, though we all had hoped we saw it differently. “No, she is still alive, I am sure.” People kept arguing to reassure themselves. No one could agree on what the tall slender being was. No one slept that night.

It had been almost 48 hours with no events except the smell of urine and feces that started to fill the room as people relieved themselves in the corner we designated as the bathroom area. No way to avoid the smell, or properly clean ourselves but it was all we had and at this point, no one was worried about privacy. Sean was beginning to take on a noticeable smell and weak stomachs spilled what remained in their bodies all over the floors. Hungry, dirty, cold, and tired, I tried to keep my best brave face as I attempted to rock my son to sleep holding his head in my lap.

My son was diagnosed with autism a few months back and all this was just way too much for him. Not that it was honestly much better for the rest of us. He always went deep inside himself in a sort of catatonic state when he was overwhelmed and it would take weeks to come back out. Something of which I blamed myself even though the therapist told me otherwise. The abuse he witnessed caused this. I was sure of it. I knew that if we survived this I would not hear my son’s sweet voice for a few weeks, and oh I longed to hear his voice again. We must find a way to survive. I try to sleep.

I woke to a sudden bang noise. I heard a loud scraping sound next. Where was it coming from? It sounded like it was all around us. Then a blood-curdling scream! Then another. The group all jumped alert and in response some cried, some hollered. One, in particular, a man that others called Willy went into full panic mode. “Get me out of here! Oh my God, they are going to kill us all, get me out of here!” he screamed and ran back and forth causing others to begin to panic. Some other man started yelling “shut up!” and a few other derogatory remarks. It didn’t phase or even slow down Willy. Until the man finally slapped Willy hard on the face causing blood to spew from his mouth. Willy hit the floor and looked up at him surprised. It worked though because he did finally settle down going to one side to rub his now swollen face. The scraping sound still going on in the background had faded away some but no way I was going back to sleep now. My son had covered his ears from the commotion and whimpered but said nothing. I felt so helpless for him. I am his mother, I am supposed to protect him, but how? Seems that was always my failure. I began to sing “Amazing grace” quietly to him hoping it would calm him down. My mind was racing. What was that? What do they want with us? Where are we? What was going on? Tears betray me as they fall down my cheeks. I felt so helpless, again. Just sleep dammit.

He was on top of me, pinning my arms and legs down. He used one hand to grab my throat, lifting me up by my neck and smashing my head into the concrete floor, while with his other arm he managed to repeatedly punch me and use his elbow for an extra blow. A repeat pattern of punch and elbowed. He was fast. Blood was splattering on his face as he hit me. I tried to get my legs up high enough to pull him off me but it was futile. I could not swallow the blood down fast enough and I was beginning to drown. I knew I would be dead soon if I did not do something soon. I heard the bones crack in my face but that would have to wait, I was drowning. I was suffocating from his hand on my throat. I wondered what would the autopsy report say? Would it say I died from drowning or asphyxiation? He paused for a brief minute. I suppose he needed to catch his breath and I whispered to him. I told him he was killing me. He came closer to hear what I said. I used the opportunity to gather up any kind of strength I had to headbutt him. I decided that if I was going to die, I was going to at least hurt him. I told him that he may kill me but I’d never be scared of him. I don’t know what came over me at that point, but it was a lie. I was terrified.

I woke up and found that I had been crying in my sleep. As people began to wake, we noticed that Willy was gone! No one saw him leave, no one heard a sound. Only a piece of his shirt was left. A piece of shredded cloth drenched in blood dried to the cage wires. Sean was also gone, which we all were grateful for. But- What in the hell is going on? Suddenly a stream of water came down on the back wall. Finally! At least we could drink and wash up. But was it safe? No one moved towards it at first. As a mother, I needed to make sure my son would be okay, and I was the closest, so I slowly reached a shaking hand into the stream. Nothing happened. I took a small drink. Everyone held their breath waiting to see what would happen to me. Minutes felt like hours. Nothing. A sigh of relief was heard around the room. Eventually one by one, people came to gulp up the water and wash up. I made sure my son had plenty to drink and saw him start to rock as he does when he is trying to cope. I prayed. What else was I to do? Feeling odd talking to GOD since me and the big guy hasn’t vibed since the first time Aaron kicked my ribs in and I begged GOD to make it stop, only to have it continue for 3 more years getting worse each time, despite me running away over and over again. Suddenly I found myself distracted by the memory of Aaron’s first attack on me.

It had been dinner time and I had worked a 16- hour shift at the nursing home because there was a call-in for the day shift so I had to stay over. I was exhausted. I spaced out and the food was overcooked- slightly. Aaron was pissed. He threw it on the floor and called me a 'worthless cunt'. I was shocked. He had called me names before when he was mad at me but never in front of my son and it had started as little things, he never called me a 'cunt' before. I was hurt and angry. I guess I must have gotten rude with my response. I asked him what his problem was and he jumped up and punched me hard in the face, knocking me out of my chair and into the wall behind me, smashing a decorative lamp I had in the corner. I heard my son scream but I couldn’t do anything. Aaron towered over me and kicked me in my ribs, using the wall to brace himself so he could get better blows in. I must have blacked out because the next thing I knew it was dark and I was alone in the room, lying still huddled in the corner with the debris of the broken lamp. The wasted food is still laying on the floor. In the distance, I could hear the faint sound of my son’s small hiccuping sounds from hard crying. I picked myself up slowly, coughing and clutching my guts. I didn’t understand why? What did I do wrong? Did I deserve this? I felt like a failure and it was the first time I felt helpless and that I failed my son… but it was not the last.

Ugh, snap out of it, remembering that is not going to help with the situation now. I couldn’t stop the tears from coming down now. How can I again be failing my son?

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More days went by, and people disappeared one by one, some at night when no one saw, some right in front of us. Our captures never offered any explanation or any comfort. They did provide us some, well I suppose we could call it food. Took us to the brink of starvation before anyone would eat it without losing their stomachs. That one meal a day became our favorite part of the day. We all started to casually talk though we never knew who would be next. However, I did notice a pattern or thought I did. It seemed they took those they decided was the most trouble, or weak. As I looked at my son that no longer responded to any stimulus outside of me. He ate, he drank, his big brown eyes were glassed over, the sweet spark was no longer there. It broke my heart to see him this way. Dirty, and mangled up hair, cold, scared and it was evident already that he had lost too much weight. I knew he was weak, but each day, thank GOD he was missed. Each day I lay holding him for warmth, security and so I could feel it if someone or something tried to take him. I knew I would fight to my death. I knew I would never live to let them take my little boy.

It didn’t take long for a couple of men to start plotting a plan to jump the being. One named Nathaniel, whom in any other circumstances I would have found attractive, with his long jet black hair, tattoos, and ice blue eyes- but here, now. His looks didn’t matter to me. The other, whose name escaped me, had short sandy blonde hair and dressed in what was probably a very expensive dress shirt and slacks. He was one of those pretty-boy types that normally would remind me of Freddy from Scooby-Doo but right now he just looked like a homeless man with an outgrown scruffy beard and filth. His expensive shirt tore in places and his slacks stained up. I suppose we all looked pretty bad, I know we smelled bad. I listened to their plan and I knew it would not work since the forces we were dealing with were invisible. We cannot kill what we cannot see. But I said nothing. At least they were trying something. Maybe I should have spoken up.

When our daily rations were brought to us, they tried and failed. Miserably. “Freddy” was shredded right in front of us. Blood splattered, covering us all. It was like his body was a well-cooked brisket. His skin and meat came apart with no resistance. Nathaniel was carried away by invisible forces. I sucked in a breath. I was terrified but I knew I had to maintain my composure. No amount of panic has helped anyone so far, and my son looked to me. Rations did not come for several days. One lady died, I guess she must have been diabetic, and her body was moved to the side. Her soulless eyes stayed open and seemed to follow you around the room. Another man killed himself, running straight into the electric fencing, just like Sean. He muttered something about he was tired of waiting to die and that they were not going to get the pleasure of doing it. He did not fly across the room as Sean did though, he was sort of stuck there, shaking until the contents of his stomach, colon, bladder and even some of his teeth came out. Blood came out of his eyes, ears, and nose. When he was finally all done, his tongue hung out like overcooked dried beef jerky and his eyes looked like 2 charred gizzards. The smell of his burned flesh overpowered even the stench of the “bathroom” area. No one spoke for hours and I do not believe anyone would ever forget that image.

A teenage boy sat with his girlfriend, whom I realized was deaf and I watched them frantically signing. It looked like they were arguing yet he was holding her and trying to comfort her.

Comfort- now that is a new thing. I thought sarcastically.

Aaron did bring me flowers, gifts, and be incredibly loving after he beat me then promise me he would never do it again. He seemed so sincere. He told me he didn’t know what came over him and he wouldn’t hurt me again. He told me he loved me and begged me not to leave. He told me that I was special. In truth, it felt good to hear those words because as a child raised in abuse, then in foster homes, I always felt unlovable. I believed him, the first time. Later on, he promised he would get help- right after this big project at his job was done, right after he visits his family, right after his time off- 'Did I really expect him to deal with the stress of seeing a therapist when he was trying to relax? I needed to get off his back, didn't he say he would do it?' It was always gonna happen, right after something. Right. As time went on the beatings not only became more frequent and more violent, they also came with less aftermath comfort. In fact, it got so bad that I was not even allowed to be sick or be not in the mood for sex. That didn’t matter. I belonged to him. He took what he wanted. Violently.

Dammit, Tori! Stop this! I rebuke myself.

Finally, I saw why the conversation was taking place as the young man stood up, puffed up his chest some, and began calling out to our captures.

“Hey, what do you want from us? My dad has a lot of money, if you just let me make a call, I can make you very rich... Just let us go… "

I held my breath. The young girl was tugging at his shirt, begging him to sit down. He shouted a couple more times to an empty hall. In the distance, we all heard chains rattling loudly, seemingly responding to his inquiries. The next morning, he had disappeared, leaving the deaf girl to silently cry, sitting in shock with tears rolling down her face, she was now covered in his blood. She must have witnessed the whole thing. I didn't hear anything!

Just three of us were left. The young deaf girl, myself, and my son. We remained quiet. Huddled together, I did my best to comfort them at first but days went by. Food daily, water daily. But no one disappeared, no one shredded. That was a relief, but not knowing what is going on was driving us crazy. Or at least it was driving me crazy. The wait was almost worse. We never knew what was coming or when. We never spoke. It seemed pointless at that point. My son was gone in his mind, the young girl was deaf and I only knew an elementary amount of signing. So we sat, waiting. Night after night we heard the chains, we heard the screeching, we heard the other noises that we began to slowly get used to. What were they waiting for? Why hadn’t they come for us?

I wasn’t sure what was worse, the waiting or my mind betraying me over and over again with memories of Aaron.

Aaron had started cooking dinner because he decided I was too stupid to cook and at first I thought it's okay, at least he did something, right? But things started getting weird. I should have known. I would eat the food he provided and suddenly the room would begin to spin. I became weak, I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't move. I felt trapped in my own body. What was he doing to me? When the drugs wore off, I tried to run away but he would find me, bring me back and punish me for leaving. After my second time trying to escape he kept close tabs on me. My phone was taken so he could control who I was allowed to talk to. He would take me to work and pick me up so I could go nowhere else and when his temper got the best of him, He would call off my work for me and keep me chained in my room. He threatened to harm my friends and my son if I attempted to leave again. He said he couldn’t live without me, that he loved me too much. I belonged to him and he wasn't going to let me go. I couldn’t even see my son unless he monitored it. I had to trust that he would take care of my son and not hurt him. I begged him not to. I prayed he wouldn't. But if he had, I couldn't have done anything to protect my little boy. (I am grateful that he seemed to not have an interest in hurting my boy.) But he could have and there would have been nothing I could have done about it. That will haunt me forever. I failed my son so badly. How did it get so bad so quickly?

And now...

Suddenly before I could get mad at myself for remembering Aaron again, the waiting was over. The tall slender man-like creature came and opened the gate. I sucked in my breath. He spoke to us all in our mind “come, I will not hurt you”. No one moved. Again his words invaded our minds. “ COME, I will not hurt you” We slowly rose, Our legs weak from lack of use. We shuffled out. We knew we did not have a choice. We either did as he said, or we would float away like the others. We followed as he slithered down the hall. We passed cages of several different animal/human-type experiments. All looked like they were Frankenstein's experiments. A humanoid with a wolf leg, and a chicken wing, with a head of a lion. And other atrocities. They didn’t look scary as much as they looked sad and scared. They looked broken and in pain. Their cages were hardly big enough to keep them in it. They were covered in filth, puss, and feces. How are they even still alive? My heart broke for them. Had I seen this on day one I know I would have lost my stomach but now, it was like I was calloused to whatever was around me. Well, that is until I got to the cage marked F213. This one had what I could have sworn was the beautifully manicured hand of Sean’s wife. It stretched it out to me as if it recognized me. I paused for a minute and looked closer. There was not much that would suggest it was human anymore at all except the hand and her sad eyes. Was that? No, it couldn’t be. I dismissed the thought that it was Sean's wife and I kept walking wanting to put some distance between me and the cages. I knew I couldn’t help them. Feeling helpless and useless again I tried to shield my son in some feeble attempt to protect him, though if I am honest. I did it more for myself, wanting to, for once, actually protect my son since I failed him so often.

It was the middle of the night when I finally was able to leave. I had been slowly putting little things aside, (clothing and money), on the rare occasions that Aaron got busy with his friend Mike. I loved when Mike came over because Aaron treated me great and eventually would leave me alone. It took me months to sneak enough stuff off to my hiding place in my son’s room. But finally, we were ready. We just needed to wait for the right timing. It took a few weeks for the timing to be right but finally, Aaron, spending time with his friend Mike, got super drunk and he passed out. I took advantage of the opportunity and left. Getting myself into the women’s domestic abuse shelter that had been waiting for me now for a couple of weeks. I was so terrified as I put my car in neutral and rolled it off; starting it once I got it out to the road. I took one last look at the house I had worked so hard for and my eyes teared up knowing I was leaving everything behind and would have to start over again. My head was still heavy from the whiplash he caused from his latest attack, and my vision still blurred. My eyes were swollen so much that one was closed all but a sliver. My arm was limp and my shoulder was out of place. It had been that way for a few days now. The pain was excruciating, but I was not allowed to see a doctor. He only kept me doped up with whatever drug cocktail he gave me. I actually would allow him to do so at this point because it numbed the pain. Now, still having that in my system I knew I shouldn’t be driving but it was my only chance. He would eventually kill me, I knew that. This time he nearly did.

We went down several other corridors that had other rooms and cages for what seemed like forever. Where was he taking us? As if to answer me, the being ‘spoke’ in my thoughts. “You are special. You will be part of our family.” He escorted us to seats at a table. Giving us all a meal. It actually smelled like chicken! My hunger was so powerful that I didn’t give it much thought and I dove in. We all did. We ate and drank the odd liquid they gave us. We ate hard and fast without really thinking much of what it was. Until suddenly the deaf girl jumped up so hard that her chair tipped with a loud bang to the floor causing my son and myself to startle in response.

A quick flash of the first beating attempted to invade my mind but before it could fully form, the deaf girl made the first noise I ever heard her make and pointed… I looked where she pointed and realized that the skin on the chicken wore the same tattoo as Nathaniel. I spit, and gagged and pushed the food away from me… but it was too late, something was happening to all of us. Within a few minutes, I watched in horror as the deaf girl and my son’s mouth began disappearing, and they began to change shape right before me. I could see them writhing in pain and hear their ear-piercing screams until the screams would suddenly stop. I attempted to help my son, not knowing what to do. I must have been screaming too at first as the pain was taking me over, and watching helplessly as they changed. Then suddenly I couldn’t speak, I couldn't scream. My hands went up to where my mouth was supposed to be, It was gone! I tried to scream again, there was no sound. As I clawed at my face. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I watched in horror as my son and the girl fell to the floor and their bodies were tossed about as the process continued. My bones cracked and stretched, the pain was anguishing, a burning sensation came over me. My head felt like it would explode. As if something was pushing its way through the top. I wanted to pass out but I couldn't. Why couldn't I? There was something coming out of our heads; I could see it from my son's head. A long arm-like thing came out the top with sharp razor teeth. Then suddenly my son and the deaf girl stopped moving. I was terrified they were dead at first until I saw the deaf girl panting. But what about my son? The change was over for them and I was nearly finished myself. Not having time to check to see if my son was alive, I writhed in agony, convulsing, and fell backward, screaming in my head. A loud sound was heard everywhere as if the fire alarm had been pulled...

Then I woke up…

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A week later...the dream was a distant memory. I had happily gotten my son ready for Halloween. He wanted to pass out candy this year. It was definitely progress for him. I was thrilled for him and he seemed excited himself!

“Ding dong” The first of the trick or treaters were here. I put on my mask and grab the candy, my son beaming in his superman costume. We were ready. I open the door getting ready to give my best witch’s cackle. “Happy Hallow-" I froze in mid-sentence. At the door, was the tall slender being! “I will not hurt you”.

Aaron!?

If you are in a domestic violence situation, get out. It will not get better. The National Domestic Violence Hotline is 1(800)799-7233. It is a 24/7 number and completely confidential. You deserve better.