Broken Road

I grew up in a good, Christian family. Mom and Dad didn't drink, smoke, or fight. We lived on an air force base in Labrador. I was sheltered, and loved, and I thought everyone was just like us. Nobody ever swore in our house, or yelled, or threw things at each other. My Dad didn't have a temper, and my Mom never had to lock herself in the bedroom. Those were the best days of my life.

My first serious boyfriend at the age of 18, was ten years older, and a drunk. He was terribly jealous, and I couldn't even look at other men. He broke my nose, he knocked out one of my teeth, and choked me unconscious. I knew I was being abused, but I was ashamed and didn't tell anyone. It went on for several years, until I finally broke up with him. Two months later, he tried to kill me. He tied me up, raped me, put a shotgun to my head, and I barely made it out alive. I never got to charge him, or see him held accountable for what he did to me, because the coward hung himself shortly afterwards. I went AWOL after that, moved to Ontario, and started a whole new life where nobody knew me. That's when I picked up a nasty cocaine habit.

Cocaine was the drug of choice in the Toronto suburbs back in the late 90's. I worked as a bartender, booze and drugs were everywhere. I hit the party scene hard, and before long, I was dating a drug dealer. He kept me high all the time, and my life became a blur of strobe lights, loud music, and endless nights. Sometimes I would be awake for days. I knew it was wrong, I knew it was slowly killing me, but I was addicted.

Around that time I became pregnant. I tried to take care of myself, I quit the drugs and alcohol, I was happy and hopeful. That baby died in my womb, and I had to deliver my stillborn son at 28 weeks. His name was Christopher, and I had him cremated. After that, we hit the drugs hard. My boyfriend eventually got busted in a huge drug trafficking ring. They arrested me too, but dropped the charges when he pled guilty. It was a wake up call for me, and I quit cocaine for good. I tried to change my life, I got a day job and found some new friends. For a while, I was happy.

Then I met my children's father. I fell all in love, and two months later, I was pregnant. It wasn't until we bought a house and moved in together, that I realized he was also abusive. His temper was a wildcat, I never knew when it was safe to open my mouth. Once, he threw me down the stairs when I was 6 months pregnant, he didn't even care if he killed his own unborn son. He was a sexual deviant as well, he forced me to do dirty, kinky things, and if I didn't, he flew into a fit of rage. He was addicted to gambling, sex, and criminal activity. He told me he was going to work every day for years, later, I found out he didn't even have a job. He stole credit cards, and gambled online, betting on sports. He was out having sex, watching porn, stealing and gambling all day long. I eventually got up the courage to call the police and charge him with assault. He was furious, and for a while, I thought for sure he was going to kill me. He stalked me, and vandalized my property. For years afterwards, I slept with one eye open, always wondering if he was skulking around my house, always wondering if he were waiting for me behind some dark corner. What a terrible way to live, and to this day I have flashbacks, and nightmares.

I was determined to live a peaceful, happy life. I dated for a few years, never felt serious about anyone until I met Larry. He's something else alright. For the third time in my life, I have chosen an abusive partner. For the third time, I am trapped in a dangerous place, and there is no one to help me.

To be continued...