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A blank screen is so intimidating, but
every time I remind myself no one else can create the world inside my
head and the wondrous story it tells, I am forced to sit back down at
this laptop and try to transcend a broken story of drugs, alcohol,
domestic violence, and a victim's transformation into a survivor on
to the page.
The victim always has everything
against her, at least in her world. She sees everyone as selfish
beings until they dry her of everything she can give them. She has
fought hard to get through a traumatic childhood to get where she is:
with an addict who demeans her and pushes her to every limit
imaginable. Standing in her childhood basement, pretending to teach
her baby-dolls their alphabet, Tiffany didn't know she'd ever snort
cocaine, smoke meth, or have her boyfriend break down the bathroom
door, so he could try and beat her to death.
What forced her from a middle class
childhood to that kind of filth infested world, you ask? No one ever
loved her. Affection was scarce in her household. She grew up knowing
only a hand full of things: with sex comes power and with power comes
dominance.
He had never met a girl not willing to
have sex. The chase enticed him, and what he thought would be a one
night stand became a three month waiting game that he wasn't willing
to commit to. She had no idea his intentions were short term. His
charm was slim at best, and from an experienced outsider's
point-of-view, you could easily tell he was just using her, but to
her that was love.
She bought his cigarettes and coffee.
She took him to recovery meetings. Their dates consisted of her
wandering around a library alone while he talked to others online and
filled out job applications. She thought she was helping him build
for his future, and therefore helping their future. He knew they'd
never had a future to look forward too to began with. She couldn't
get enough of his menthol caramel kisses, and he endured her lip
biting just until she could be kicked to the curb.
Life throws curveballs dunked in sour
lemons, and for once his mind tricked him into having an ounce of
compassion for a human he had spent everyday with for the last three
months. He uncle was murdered, so she tried to cancel their date. She
had made a homemade gift and bought him chocolate, and he kissed her.
She wasn't use to ever having a date for valentines day, so the lack
of a gift from him wasn't something she even cared to mention. She
pulled into the church parking lot to go to the recovery meeting, and
this time she turned around at the doorway of the chapel and sprinted
back to the car. This time she wanted to be selfish and it was going
to cost her everything she thought she was working towards.
She wanted to drop him off at his sober
living house. She wanted to go home and get drunk and go to sleep by
herself. His soft tone of voice and gentle hands reminded her she
didn't have to be alone this time. They took a detour to her favorite
park, and when their attempt at sex was interrupted by innocent
bystanders, she drove to his mom's house under his instruction
because his mom would be drunk and passed out on the couch that late
at night anyway.
They downed a bottle of tequila, a
bottle of rum, and a bottle of crown. She couldn't keep her eyes open
and definitely couldn't keep her balance. He had years of built up
tolerance, and coerced her to his mother's unused bedroom. Having sex
with a drunk twenty-five virgin should have been his first clue, he
was in the wrong, but not even after he finished inside of her twice
and left her to sleep, did he second think his actions. Taking her
car for a spin with her wallet and coming back with more alcohol
still didn't seem too bad of a choice for him.
His entrance into the small apartment
woke her up, and she went to the bathroom. As she finished and walked
out, he trapped her between his 5'11 stocky build and the bathroom
door. As far as he was concerned, she had four options: let him buy
drugs and not say anything, buy drugs with him and not say anything,
dump him and he was still going to get drugs, or do the drugs with
him and then dump him. Someone was going to relapse and their
relationship was forever going to be changed.
After the multiple red flags his
personalty threw out that night, it would still take her seven
months, a move across the country, and him trying to kill her to
force her to leave, and her heart definitely still stayed with him.
This page is no longer blank, but have
we gotten any further into the crazy world that exist in my head? I'm
not sure. I just know that the flashbacks and the memories sink me in
every time I go to type, and they claw at the back of my eyelids at
night because they want you to know they exists.
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