Not going home today after all, but they’ve promised me that it’ll be tomorrow. I’ve managed to talk with my boss and I’m out on medical leave for the next two weeks. Last week, well I’m not sure what its being covered under, but my boss promised me that being kidnapped will not be subtracted from my vacation days.

The cops from my area finally found out I was here and came to talk to me yesterday. I’ve told them a watered down version of the truth, namely that my ex kidnapped me. Sage had claimed that they found someone beating me up in alley, I just pretended that he had taken me there after  everything else that had happened. My godchildren’s bodies were found near my house, and if I wasn’t in my current condition, I would probably have been arrested. As it stands, my ex is now wanted for what happened to me and is the main suspect in my godchildren’s murders. I know that they’re not gonna find him and it’s useless to even hope, but still it would be nice if they caught him instead of him staying in whatever hole he crawled back into until he’s ready to come at me again.

I have a story to tell and it’s going to be the first time I’ve ever told it other than bare bones details. The few times I’ve had to talk about it, I’ve said as little as possible. We were engaged, he beat me, and I left him. Never thought I needed to say more, but I guess I’ve been rather like an ostrich. Didn’t want to think about him, so I refused to acknowledge all the little clues I had in the past two months that not only was he coming for me, but that he was working for the monster. Denial is a very powerful thing, and I have been full of it. So time to try and put this whole mess down on paper. Or in this case the internet. 

Seven years ago, I was a pretty normal person. A little shy and geeky, but not enough to impede having a social life, in fact the opposite really. I was at friends’ houses for parties or just general hang outs every weekend, large circle of hang out friends, smaller circle of close to my heart friends.  All in all a fairly normal 23 year woman, although my self-esteem was a little low and my shyness made it hard for me to date. 

I met Tom by accident. I was at the grocery store and he accidentally bumped his cart into mine. We started talking, he asked for my phone number and it went from there.  I was beyond flattered.  I’m not an unattractive woman, but I’ve never been the kind of woman that men go out of their way to talk to. We started dating and everything was…not ok for the first six months, but not bad enough for me to realize what it was going to become. He was always controlling, but I never really realized it. If he told me he didn’t want me to wear a certain outfit because of the way I looked in it, I thought it was just because he was jealous. Silly me, huh?

The bad stuff started after we moved in together. Small at first, him screaming at me if the house wasn’t cleaned exactly the way he wanted it, or if dinner was five minutes late because he worked hard all day and why did he have to come home to this?  I worked all day too, but that didn’t matter.  As far as he was concerned it was more important that everything be perfect when he got home.  

I can’t even describe how easily it can get into your head, the idea that everything you do is wrong,that you deserve what is happening. Most people love to hold their heads up high and talk about how they would never let someone manipulate them like that. But I didn’t even realize it was happening. It started so small that by the time he actually hit me, I really did believe I deserved it.

We were together for four years. In that time I went from a fairly well-adjusted woman with a fun life to a terrified victim who could barely speak above a whisper for fear of saying something wrong.  And I wasn’t smart enough or brave enough to leave him on my own. 

My friend came over with my goddaughter. She was only three at the time. We had gone into the kitchen to get some food and left Maggie with Tom.  I didn’t think anything of it until we heard a crack and Maggie screamed. 

I don’t even know why he hit her. He should have realized that other people wouldn’t just stand there like me. Her mother took one look at the red mark on her girls face and flipped out. Was threatening to call the police, threatening to gut him, you name it. I convinced her to take Maggie and leave. He was furious at me. How dare I let my friend speak to him like that? Why wasn’t I loyal to him? Everyone question punctuated with another kick or punch. 

At the end of it he told me to clean up the “god damned mess” and went to bed. I lay on the floor for a while. And I thought about what would happen if we had children. I had always assumed that his beatings were just for me because I wasn’t good enough. I got up and looked at my engagement ring. There was blood smeared on the diamond. I took it off and I left the apartment. I had nothing, literally. The bank accounts were in his name, the cars, everything. I went to my grandmother’s house and she took me in, gave me a chance to start over.  And I spent the last three years trying to take my life back. When he wouldn’t leave me alone I got a restraining order against him. I hadn’t heard from him at all after that. Well until all this. 

Something that he made sure I knew was that everything he was doing to me last week was revenge for having the nerve to leave him. For humiliating him in front of his friends and family. For getting the restraining order. 

I almost pity him. He was a fucking asshole, but our favorite stalker has warped him into something else. Now he’s just a big of a monster as his master. However, pity isn’t going to stop what I have to say next.

I want you dead. I would have been completely content with spending the rest of my life without seeing you again. But you chose to ally with that monster. You gave my godkids to that thing. And you know what you did to me. So I’m done being your victim. Come near me again and see what happens. 

Anyone that even thinks about coming after me and mine again…try it and see. I’m done being anyone’s victim.