Tuesday, October 13, 2009

MPS - Part 6

The move to the new house was a time consuming task, as we only had my one pick-up truck and my small hatch-back car. Thankfully the new house was only a few streets away from the old, crappy, no running water, rotting house. And I moved furniture and boxes out of the old place like my ass was on fire. I could not get away from that place fast enough.

The new house was bright, happy, warm and inviting. It smelled clean, fresh and it gave me a renewed sense of life and hope. I would stand in the kitchen just to feel the warm rays of sunshine on my face that were beaming through the back door, drink in the soft scent of freshly washed curtains, while breathing a contented sigh. This time it would not be just a house, but a home. I could feel it in every fiber of my body. And it felt good.

One afternoon after unpacking some more boxes, Josh decided that he'd rather go out with Gerald than help me. Since that was nothing new, I just asked when he'd be home. Josh ignored my question, got a major attitude and stormed out of the house...taking the keys to MY car and driving off in a cloud of dust. That son-of-a-bitch did it again. We had the discussion months ago about him taking my car without asking and it was agreed that he'd ask from now on, as it was not HIS car to take. So much for that discussion. Yet another promise he'd made to me was broken, shattered like an eggshell that's been ravaged by a raccoon.

When he finally came back (early the next morning), he was so drunk he could barely walk. I have no clue how he drove my car home and didn't get into an accident or get pulled over by the cops. I was furious. Josh did whatever the f*ck he wanted to and I had to stay at home because according to his rules, I could not go out, have friends or leave the house without his permission. Well guess what...I've had enough of this shit. I don't care how big and violent his fat ass is...I'm putting my foot down and not tolerating this any more.

I'd had enough of his drinking. When we lived in the apartment, his drinking got worse and he was more open with it. Then when we moved to the rental house, he began drinking all the time and didn't give a rat's ass what I said about it. I got smacked if I said anything. Of course the stupid mother-f*cker always wanted to molest me when he was drunk as a fart. Wanna talk about gross? Being forced to have sex with a drunk, fat, stinky, abusive man...and on top of it all (no pun intended) he had a super small "member". I shit you not. When he'd lay down, the bitch would disappear in the mass of fat rolls. Are you feeling my pain now?

While still living in the apartment, one day he got so drunk before we were supposed to go to Laura & Gerald's for dinner, that I drove him to their house, dropped his ass off in front of their house and hauled ass back home. You should've seen the look on his face when he shut my truck door and I put her in gear and took off like a shot from a cannon! Of course he proceeded to call me every few minutes on my cell phone begging me to come get him, sniveling and telling me he'd stop drinking. I said "hell no, we're through, stay there and never, ever come back".

The next day after that incident, Laura called me and asked me to reconsider. She said Josh had been miserable all night, broke down crying at one point and then drunk so much that he passed out on her couch. Laura was my best friend and very persuasive. I trusted her and never thought she'd put me in danger. After speaking with her for quite a long time, I agreed to give the relationship one final try - but the drinking had to stop and he had to meet me halfway on things. Of course the backstabbing bitch didn't tell me that Josh had pissed, puked and shit all over her couch while he was passed out. I found that out much, much later.

Fast forward to the new house...about one or two months after we moved in...the old behaviors are resurfacing at break-neck speed. One minute I'm living with a nice, charming, handsome, caring man and the next...I turn around to find I'm sharing a house with a violent criminal who is also a psychopath. Josh is drinking again, going out, not telling me where he's going or when he's coming home, stealing my car, not going to work, lying about everything and threatening me when I continually catch him up to no good and breaking promises. By this time, I'm scared to death and try my damndest to not upset him for fear of him beating the immortal shit out of me for opening my mouth and questioning him. I had to be careful how I looked at him too...he had a hair trigger and anything I said, did or wore would set him off. If I was breathing funny and he was in a bad mood...it spelled trouble for me.

The tension in the house was palpable. I walked on eggshells. I made sure I left for work at the exact same time every morning, came home right on time, and only ran errands or went to Laura & Gerald's house when he gave permission...or he went with me. Even a 5 minute variation in my schedule would peak his curiosity and he'd start accusing me of cheating with someone...and from there, the fights would get ugly. I didn't even have to participate to engage his wrath. Then came Valentine's Day...

To be continued...

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