The sun shone brightly as we made our way home from church. I was filled with a sense of hopefulness. The day was sunny and bright, Josh was in a good mood and smiling, the trees were beginning to bloom, new shrubs were sprouting little green tips just waiting to burst open with the promise of spring and the air smelled fresh and clean.
We arrived at the house and I proceeded to the bedroom to change my clothes. This was going to be a jeans and sweatshirt day - a day for relaxing, being happy and comfortable. I began to build a fire in the woodstove to take the slight chill out of the air. I was waiting for Josh to make suggestions as to what we could do with the rest of our day while I made a nice, cozy fire and orchestrated a small feast for lunch.
I finished starting the woodstove and sat down on the hearth for a moment to enjoy the scents of the burning newspaper and crackling wood. The heat felt wonderful as it touched my face and warmed my body. I closed the doors to the woodstove, turned the blower fan on medium and walked into the kitchen to see what Josh wanted for our little lunch feast.
He looked at me with a strange look in his eyes and told me he was going fishing with Gerald. His mood had just done a complete 180. A few minutes ago he was suggesting we spend the rest of the day together and suddenly he wanted to go fishing with Gerald. Oddly enough, it was a little too chilly to be fishing and getting wet. My inner antennae went up and I had the typical sense of foreboding that came with his sudden mood changes.
A trickle of defiance flowed through me and I stood up and told Josh I wanted to go fishing too. I wanted to call his bluff to see if he really was going to go someplace with Gerald or if he was lying to me yet again and was going to a clandestine meeting. Josh told me I could not go with him - he wanted to be alone, yet he wanted to go fishing with Gerald. His story was quickly falling apart and he knew by the look on my face that I had busted his ass wide open and seen through his bullshit. He was pissed.
Josh grabbed the phone with the pretense of calling Gerald. I reached up at the same time and snatched the phone out of his hand and said "...the fuck you ARE going without me! I don't think so. Why is it such a problem that I want to go fishing too? What are you really doing?" He screamed back at me "...it's none of your fucking business where I'm going or what I'm doing. I don't have to answer to you and I'll do whatever I want and come home when the fuck I want to..." and the fight was on.
He got closer to me, inching forward every time I scooted backward. He got in my face yelling, screaming, breathing irregularly, waving his hands and his face turned very red, angry and hideously ugly. My defiance immediately turned to intense fear as I realized he was over the edge and I was quite possibly going to die today because I dared stand up to him. My whole body was trembling as my brain raced to try and find an escape away from him before he grabbed me. My only hope was to get outside and scream at the top of my lungs for help. Lord knows, my screams inside the house were never heard by anyone outside before. I desperately tried to think of ways to get out of the house. My house...the house that I had made into a home may very well end up being my coffin.
To be continued...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
MPS-Part 10 Crazy Churches
It was another chilly weekend and I fired up the wood stove. I have a knack for creating a spectacular fire in the fireplace that keeps the whole house warm. I turned the wood stove insert blower on medium and set up my living room to be a cozy haven for the weekend. If tensions ran high, I could always cuddle up on the pull out bed that is in my sofa and sleep there, away from Josh and his roaming hands.
Josh had a sixth sense that told him whenever the thought of him touching me made me physically ill. He would push the envelope, whisper sweet nothings to me, hug me, hold me, kiss me and try to force himself on me. He would make promises to me that I knew he had no intention of keeping...he wanted a way to get to me so he could take advantage of me yet again. I was past the point of no return. Nothing he could say or do to me would make me change my mind. I saw the demon inside and realized that Josh had to go before I wound up dead. The most difficult part of the facade was pretending that I still loved him and believed him. I should have been an actress. I played the part well. He never knew how much I truly hated him - with every living, breathing fiber of my being. And my mind had been made up long ago. I would survive this and he might not, but I'd make damn sure he'd never touch me again.
The weekend progressed with only a few hiccups. I kept him busy outside chopping wood frequently, as I didn't trust myself with the axe while he was there with me. You know, accidents DO happen more often at home...and my emotions were teetering between fear, trepidation and then I would be seething with anger that I had to skillfully hide from his ever watchful eyes.
Sunday arrived and I dared breathe a small sigh of relief. I only had to make it through one more day with him in close quarters, scrutinizing me, eavesdropping on my phone conversations. I had to watch everything I did so as not to arouse suspicion. We decided to go to church, which is something we had started doing months before. During one of our "discussions" where he said he would do anything to make "it" up to me, I said I wanted to go back to church. I also figured I might be able to get us into some sort of counseling, naively thinking it might help him with his anger issues.
Unfortunately, he drug me to every kind of church known to man-kind except for the only one I wanted to attend. I was raised Roman Catholic, he was raised Heathen. He forced me to attend services (I can't even call them churches) where the parishoners had wild eyed looks, spoke in tongues, fainted, rolled around on the floor, appeared to convulse...everything except for sacrificing animals and small children. Well, they may have done that too, but it wasn't on the day we went.
There was this other service we attended (right down the street from my house) where the female Pastor or whatever you call her, kept hitting on Josh right in front of me! She had the gall to do this every single week we went, which made me extremely uncomfortable in too many ways to describe. Of course, Josh thought his fat, uneducated ass was hot as hell and reveled in the attention, so when I protested and balked at the fact that the preacher was acting like a sexed-up whore and I didn't want to go back there EVER again, he got upset. Yes I caught hell for even suggesting that he'd cheat on me with that dime-store floozie. It's the first time in my life that I ever wanted to pop a preacher right in the freakin' mouth! The bitch had balls to do that right in front of me!
Eventually we proceeded to another place of worship, although not the Catholic Church I was pining to attend. This next place was right down the street, within walking distance, and the religion was close to Catholic...or so he said. The church itself was beautiful and I immediately took a liking to the new pastor. I didn't trust the old one who was thankfully on his way out the door. I decided to keep my comments to myself, especially since the old pastor had most of the folks snowed and they thought the sun rose and set on him. If I only knew then what I know now about this guy...I would've told everyone the truth and what a bold-faced liar this pastor was/is.
The new pastor was fantastic. He had a way with storytelling and his sermons were quite inspiring. He made you feel loved when you entered the church and again when you left. To this day, when I happen to pass the pastor in town, the man still remembers my name. How, I have NO idea, but I do still think the world of him! Unfortunately, his parishoners had a tendency to be quite pushy, nosy and a little too curious about my personal life, my job and how much money I made. Some people have no class but I didn't want to hold that against the pastor. I enjoyed his sermons immensely and looked forward to seeing and hearing him every Sunday.
That's why on this particular Sunday I really wanted to attend services and hear some uplifting words from the pastor. Plus I figured if I was in a public place and I was safe for the time being. Josh always behaved like the perfect gentleman when we were at church. He had everyone fooled. Although I'm not entirely sure he had the Pastor fooled - maybe someday I will have to be brave and ask him.
After the sermon, we socialized a bit with the other parishoners. Josh always had to make sure he spoke to folks and toot his own horn about how wonderfully he treated me, how in love we were and how we were going to get married in the next few years. Then we went back to the house afterward to eat lunch and tentatively discuss the rest of the day, as the weather had warmed significantly.
To be continued...
Josh had a sixth sense that told him whenever the thought of him touching me made me physically ill. He would push the envelope, whisper sweet nothings to me, hug me, hold me, kiss me and try to force himself on me. He would make promises to me that I knew he had no intention of keeping...he wanted a way to get to me so he could take advantage of me yet again. I was past the point of no return. Nothing he could say or do to me would make me change my mind. I saw the demon inside and realized that Josh had to go before I wound up dead. The most difficult part of the facade was pretending that I still loved him and believed him. I should have been an actress. I played the part well. He never knew how much I truly hated him - with every living, breathing fiber of my being. And my mind had been made up long ago. I would survive this and he might not, but I'd make damn sure he'd never touch me again.
The weekend progressed with only a few hiccups. I kept him busy outside chopping wood frequently, as I didn't trust myself with the axe while he was there with me. You know, accidents DO happen more often at home...and my emotions were teetering between fear, trepidation and then I would be seething with anger that I had to skillfully hide from his ever watchful eyes.
Sunday arrived and I dared breathe a small sigh of relief. I only had to make it through one more day with him in close quarters, scrutinizing me, eavesdropping on my phone conversations. I had to watch everything I did so as not to arouse suspicion. We decided to go to church, which is something we had started doing months before. During one of our "discussions" where he said he would do anything to make "it" up to me, I said I wanted to go back to church. I also figured I might be able to get us into some sort of counseling, naively thinking it might help him with his anger issues.
Unfortunately, he drug me to every kind of church known to man-kind except for the only one I wanted to attend. I was raised Roman Catholic, he was raised Heathen. He forced me to attend services (I can't even call them churches) where the parishoners had wild eyed looks, spoke in tongues, fainted, rolled around on the floor, appeared to convulse...everything except for sacrificing animals and small children. Well, they may have done that too, but it wasn't on the day we went.
There was this other service we attended (right down the street from my house) where the female Pastor or whatever you call her, kept hitting on Josh right in front of me! She had the gall to do this every single week we went, which made me extremely uncomfortable in too many ways to describe. Of course, Josh thought his fat, uneducated ass was hot as hell and reveled in the attention, so when I protested and balked at the fact that the preacher was acting like a sexed-up whore and I didn't want to go back there EVER again, he got upset. Yes I caught hell for even suggesting that he'd cheat on me with that dime-store floozie. It's the first time in my life that I ever wanted to pop a preacher right in the freakin' mouth! The bitch had balls to do that right in front of me!
Eventually we proceeded to another place of worship, although not the Catholic Church I was pining to attend. This next place was right down the street, within walking distance, and the religion was close to Catholic...or so he said. The church itself was beautiful and I immediately took a liking to the new pastor. I didn't trust the old one who was thankfully on his way out the door. I decided to keep my comments to myself, especially since the old pastor had most of the folks snowed and they thought the sun rose and set on him. If I only knew then what I know now about this guy...I would've told everyone the truth and what a bold-faced liar this pastor was/is.
The new pastor was fantastic. He had a way with storytelling and his sermons were quite inspiring. He made you feel loved when you entered the church and again when you left. To this day, when I happen to pass the pastor in town, the man still remembers my name. How, I have NO idea, but I do still think the world of him! Unfortunately, his parishoners had a tendency to be quite pushy, nosy and a little too curious about my personal life, my job and how much money I made. Some people have no class but I didn't want to hold that against the pastor. I enjoyed his sermons immensely and looked forward to seeing and hearing him every Sunday.
That's why on this particular Sunday I really wanted to attend services and hear some uplifting words from the pastor. Plus I figured if I was in a public place and I was safe for the time being. Josh always behaved like the perfect gentleman when we were at church. He had everyone fooled. Although I'm not entirely sure he had the Pastor fooled - maybe someday I will have to be brave and ask him.
After the sermon, we socialized a bit with the other parishoners. Josh always had to make sure he spoke to folks and toot his own horn about how wonderfully he treated me, how in love we were and how we were going to get married in the next few years. Then we went back to the house afterward to eat lunch and tentatively discuss the rest of the day, as the weather had warmed significantly.
To be continued...
Monday, November 2, 2009
MPS-Part 9 After Valentine's Day
I wonder how far the human psyche can be pummeled before it cracks and shatters and the person being tortured goes postal? I wondered every day how much more of Josh's bullshit deviant behaviors I could possibly take before I had a nervous breakdown, committed suicide, killed him or stood up to him and took it "like a man". Lying down and being a doormat is not something I was raised to do. I had a big decision to make - one that needed to be made very, very soon before he killed me in one of his fits of rage.
The few days following the Valentine's Day fiasco were filled with apologies (on Josh's part), whispers and promises of commitments that were never to be fulfilled. I slowly, cautiously and carefully pretended to go along with his promises and plans of a better life together. I did not want to arouse his suspicions that I didn't believe one bloody word he said, or that I had other plans in store for MY future. The biggest lie was his promise to treat me like a Princess and never, ever raise his hands to me again. Also the promise that he would be faithful, that he would be a good father.
Wait...WHAT?! My brain began spinning, my blood pressure dropped, I felt faint. I desperately tried to maintain my composure and pretent that I was listening intently to every single piece of shit that spewed forth from his mouth. I smiled at him to coax him into a safe state of mind where he was under the forethought that I was going along with his sick, perverted plans for "our future". My conscious mind screamed at me "What do you mean a "good father"? I have absolutely NO intentions of becoming pregnant and carrying your demon seed child in this lifetime or the next.
I played the game, hoping that it would save my life until I could find a way to get Josh away from me and out of my life. I had to proceed silently, cautiously, plotting effective, foolproof plans to ensure he would not be able to hurt me, my animals or be allowed to carry out any of his previous threats. He always swore that he would never let me go, no matter what.
Now the weekend was approaching and once again, I was afraid of what those two days would bring. Most people look forward to the weekends as a time to regroup, spend time with family, pursue hobbies and activities and relax. I did not have the luxury of being one of those people. I feared the weekends. It meant I would most likely be alone with Josh and his mood swings brought on my drinking binges and drug use. Sometimes he would go out with his best friend, Gerald, and they would do God knows what for the entire weekend. I would never know where he was going, when he was coming back...all I knew is that I was thankful he was getting the hell out of my house for awhile so I could perfect my plans and have a few moments of clarity and sanity.
Unfortunately this weekend, he wanted to spend it with me. When he broke the news to me, I tried my best to coax a big smile to my lips so he would believe I was thrilled to have him spend time with me. Sure enough, as soon as he decided what he was going to do (and what I was NOT going to do), he began his routine of drinking...and it was only Friday afternoon. My instincts told me to be ready for anything. Especially since Josh was starting his alcoholic binging earlier than usual...anything could and probably would happen.
To be continued...
The few days following the Valentine's Day fiasco were filled with apologies (on Josh's part), whispers and promises of commitments that were never to be fulfilled. I slowly, cautiously and carefully pretended to go along with his promises and plans of a better life together. I did not want to arouse his suspicions that I didn't believe one bloody word he said, or that I had other plans in store for MY future. The biggest lie was his promise to treat me like a Princess and never, ever raise his hands to me again. Also the promise that he would be faithful, that he would be a good father.
Wait...WHAT?! My brain began spinning, my blood pressure dropped, I felt faint. I desperately tried to maintain my composure and pretent that I was listening intently to every single piece of shit that spewed forth from his mouth. I smiled at him to coax him into a safe state of mind where he was under the forethought that I was going along with his sick, perverted plans for "our future". My conscious mind screamed at me "What do you mean a "good father"? I have absolutely NO intentions of becoming pregnant and carrying your demon seed child in this lifetime or the next.
I played the game, hoping that it would save my life until I could find a way to get Josh away from me and out of my life. I had to proceed silently, cautiously, plotting effective, foolproof plans to ensure he would not be able to hurt me, my animals or be allowed to carry out any of his previous threats. He always swore that he would never let me go, no matter what.
Now the weekend was approaching and once again, I was afraid of what those two days would bring. Most people look forward to the weekends as a time to regroup, spend time with family, pursue hobbies and activities and relax. I did not have the luxury of being one of those people. I feared the weekends. It meant I would most likely be alone with Josh and his mood swings brought on my drinking binges and drug use. Sometimes he would go out with his best friend, Gerald, and they would do God knows what for the entire weekend. I would never know where he was going, when he was coming back...all I knew is that I was thankful he was getting the hell out of my house for awhile so I could perfect my plans and have a few moments of clarity and sanity.
Unfortunately this weekend, he wanted to spend it with me. When he broke the news to me, I tried my best to coax a big smile to my lips so he would believe I was thrilled to have him spend time with me. Sure enough, as soon as he decided what he was going to do (and what I was NOT going to do), he began his routine of drinking...and it was only Friday afternoon. My instincts told me to be ready for anything. Especially since Josh was starting his alcoholic binging earlier than usual...anything could and probably would happen.
To be continued...
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
MPS-Part 8 Valentine's Day
I was holding my breath...seconds seemed to stretch forever. Time stood still for God only knows how long while Josh was standing in front of me with that maddening smile on his face. The smile he got before he began screwing with my head. Josh thrust the shotgun at me and I instinctively flinched, thinking he was going to hit me again. Instead he shoved the shotgun into my chest, then into my hands. He yelled at me to "hold it right dammit!" I had no idea if the shotgun was loaded or not and I thought this was it. He was going to kill me for sure this time. I cringed every time he yelled, flinched at his every movement. For some reason, he found humor in my fear and began to chuckle...a sickening, evil laugh which scared me even more. I was terrified.
He was still laughing and said "you want me dead? Well then, fucking shoot me bitch. Here's your chance. I even put it in your hands". I have no idea how long I stood there completely motionless, frozen in time with my finger on the trigger and his hand on the barrel jerking the shotgun every now and then. He was daring me to shoot him, trying to yank the shotgun hard enough for my finger to pull the trigger while he stood in front of the shotgun. All the while I was thinking about what would happen to my animals if I did shoot Josh...who would love them, feed them, take care of them if I were in jail. I knew the cops wouldn't believe me when I told them the truth. I knew, just KNEW in my heart that I'd be the one going to jail even though he'd abused me for so long already. He was certifiably insane. And honestly, I didn't care if he did die - I just didn't want to have to clean up the mess.
My animals were far too important for me to do what needed to be done. I chickened out and did not shoot the son-of-a-bitch. Later, I would regret that missed opportunity immensely.
Josh thought I didn't have the nerve (although he had no idea what stopped me). Little did he know that in that short span of time, I realized my life was far too important to throw it all away and put him where he belonged...6 feet under and on his way back through the Gates of Hell. He thought I stopped because I still loved him. If he only knew what was going through my mind, he would've run. That is, if he had any damned common sense.
He took the shotgun out of my hands and put it back in my shotgun rack next to my bed. I never knew if it was loaded or not. He came back into the weight room, grabbed my arm and walked me down the hallway towards the living room. We spent the evening sitting on the couch and I listened to him tell more stories about his life and why he is the way he is. I truly believe they were all lies and he lives in a fantasy-land of his own creation. A few hours later when he was feeling better about himself, he forced me to go to the bedroom and have sex with him.
I was so used to this, that I was a master at disassociating my brain from my body. He could do whatever he wanted to do to me and I wasn't there. My body may have been there, but my brain and soul were not. I had to protect myself somehow without provoking him yet again by saying "no, don't touch me". No matter how much the thought of him touching me disgusted me, no matter how many times I gagged, cringed and withdrew, I knew better than to show it outwardly. The last time I did that, he got very rough and almost broke a few of my bones. His 300 pound body was no match for my petite 120 pound frame. I was overpowered yet again.
To be continued...
He was still laughing and said "you want me dead? Well then, fucking shoot me bitch. Here's your chance. I even put it in your hands". I have no idea how long I stood there completely motionless, frozen in time with my finger on the trigger and his hand on the barrel jerking the shotgun every now and then. He was daring me to shoot him, trying to yank the shotgun hard enough for my finger to pull the trigger while he stood in front of the shotgun. All the while I was thinking about what would happen to my animals if I did shoot Josh...who would love them, feed them, take care of them if I were in jail. I knew the cops wouldn't believe me when I told them the truth. I knew, just KNEW in my heart that I'd be the one going to jail even though he'd abused me for so long already. He was certifiably insane. And honestly, I didn't care if he did die - I just didn't want to have to clean up the mess.
My animals were far too important for me to do what needed to be done. I chickened out and did not shoot the son-of-a-bitch. Later, I would regret that missed opportunity immensely.
Josh thought I didn't have the nerve (although he had no idea what stopped me). Little did he know that in that short span of time, I realized my life was far too important to throw it all away and put him where he belonged...6 feet under and on his way back through the Gates of Hell. He thought I stopped because I still loved him. If he only knew what was going through my mind, he would've run. That is, if he had any damned common sense.
He took the shotgun out of my hands and put it back in my shotgun rack next to my bed. I never knew if it was loaded or not. He came back into the weight room, grabbed my arm and walked me down the hallway towards the living room. We spent the evening sitting on the couch and I listened to him tell more stories about his life and why he is the way he is. I truly believe they were all lies and he lives in a fantasy-land of his own creation. A few hours later when he was feeling better about himself, he forced me to go to the bedroom and have sex with him.
I was so used to this, that I was a master at disassociating my brain from my body. He could do whatever he wanted to do to me and I wasn't there. My body may have been there, but my brain and soul were not. I had to protect myself somehow without provoking him yet again by saying "no, don't touch me". No matter how much the thought of him touching me disgusted me, no matter how many times I gagged, cringed and withdrew, I knew better than to show it outwardly. The last time I did that, he got very rough and almost broke a few of my bones. His 300 pound body was no match for my petite 120 pound frame. I was overpowered yet again.
To be continued...
Monday, October 19, 2009
MPS - Part 7
This continuation has taken a few days. I had to stop writing for a bit because of the horrible flashbacks and nightmares that have become more vivid and frequent. I am ready to go on now. As I stated before, this is part of what I live with on a daily basis due to what Josh has done to me.
Valentine's Day is one of those "almost" holidays that I don't always choose to celebrate. Normally I'm alone and not in a relationship, so why celebrate? This year I was with Josh and I was unsure if celebrating this abominable relationship was really such a fantastic idea. It was a curse, not a blessing to be with this evil, devil-spawn, son-of-a-bitch.
The day started out pretty much like all the rest. Josh was drinking to see just how drunk he could get before he passed out, I was doing the usual cleaning and other household chores while walking on eggshells. Nothing good was going to come out of his drinking and I was full aware of that, yet too scared to voice my objections for fear of the physical retribution that usually followed. The tension in the house was higher than usual, I was as jumpy as a frog in a blender and my puppy-dog was hiding in the back room. My poor Beagle...even she sensed what was coming. She too had been on the receiving end of Josh's constant tirades (unbeknownst to me at the time - he would beat her while I was at work).
How the whole argument started that afternoon, is a mystery to me. Josh got that look in his eyes - the dark, burn through your soul, evil, satanic stare and he began to watch every, single miniscule move I made. He criticized, ridiculed, poked fun at everything I said or did and kept it up all day. He went so far as to come knock on the bathroom door repeatedly if he thought I took too long. I had absolutely no privacy.
According to him, I should be there to serve him, get his beer, refill his glass with Early Times (or whatever cheap ass shit he was drinking), make him something to eat, sit down with him and keep him company, wait on him hand and foot, keep the house clean, all the while simultaneously being his source of amusement. I was a one woman cooking and cleaning crew, entertainment entourage...all the while trying to take care of my animals and doing my other work.
His mood darkened, there was a sense of foreboding...I became acutely aware of his every movement, his actions, his changing mannerisms and speech. I was borderline neurotic and paranoid - and his true-to-form self hadn't even manifested yet.
Josh started arguing with me. He got up and followed me around the house as I tried desperately to put distance between the two of us. Eventually he caught me, grabbing my arm and getting in my face so he could threaten me up close and personal. Something triggered his rage and he felt the need to share it with me.
The anxiety was building like a mountain in my chest. I was having trouble breathing, thinking, moving. Was this going to be the fight where he would finally kill me? Would anyone hear me if I screamed? What would happen to my animals if I died? Would he kill them too? As the merry-go-round of thoughts went round and round in my head, as he was getting in my face to rant and rave some more, I lost control and screamed "I HATE YOU - I wish you were dead"! I couldn't take it any more. I was drawing my line in the sand. I could NOT live like this anymore, being in fear constantly for my life, having no life outside of him, fear that he would kill my animals out of sheer spite...
Suddenly Josh got this strange look on his face and turned his back to me. He went storming down the hall and into the bedroom. He left me standing in my weight-room/library shaking and wondering what he was going to to do me now. He returned about one minute later (although it seemed like forever) with a loaded shotgun.
To be continued...
Valentine's Day is one of those "almost" holidays that I don't always choose to celebrate. Normally I'm alone and not in a relationship, so why celebrate? This year I was with Josh and I was unsure if celebrating this abominable relationship was really such a fantastic idea. It was a curse, not a blessing to be with this evil, devil-spawn, son-of-a-bitch.
The day started out pretty much like all the rest. Josh was drinking to see just how drunk he could get before he passed out, I was doing the usual cleaning and other household chores while walking on eggshells. Nothing good was going to come out of his drinking and I was full aware of that, yet too scared to voice my objections for fear of the physical retribution that usually followed. The tension in the house was higher than usual, I was as jumpy as a frog in a blender and my puppy-dog was hiding in the back room. My poor Beagle...even she sensed what was coming. She too had been on the receiving end of Josh's constant tirades (unbeknownst to me at the time - he would beat her while I was at work).
How the whole argument started that afternoon, is a mystery to me. Josh got that look in his eyes - the dark, burn through your soul, evil, satanic stare and he began to watch every, single miniscule move I made. He criticized, ridiculed, poked fun at everything I said or did and kept it up all day. He went so far as to come knock on the bathroom door repeatedly if he thought I took too long. I had absolutely no privacy.
According to him, I should be there to serve him, get his beer, refill his glass with Early Times (or whatever cheap ass shit he was drinking), make him something to eat, sit down with him and keep him company, wait on him hand and foot, keep the house clean, all the while simultaneously being his source of amusement. I was a one woman cooking and cleaning crew, entertainment entourage...all the while trying to take care of my animals and doing my other work.
His mood darkened, there was a sense of foreboding...I became acutely aware of his every movement, his actions, his changing mannerisms and speech. I was borderline neurotic and paranoid - and his true-to-form self hadn't even manifested yet.
Josh started arguing with me. He got up and followed me around the house as I tried desperately to put distance between the two of us. Eventually he caught me, grabbing my arm and getting in my face so he could threaten me up close and personal. Something triggered his rage and he felt the need to share it with me.
The anxiety was building like a mountain in my chest. I was having trouble breathing, thinking, moving. Was this going to be the fight where he would finally kill me? Would anyone hear me if I screamed? What would happen to my animals if I died? Would he kill them too? As the merry-go-round of thoughts went round and round in my head, as he was getting in my face to rant and rave some more, I lost control and screamed "I HATE YOU - I wish you were dead"! I couldn't take it any more. I was drawing my line in the sand. I could NOT live like this anymore, being in fear constantly for my life, having no life outside of him, fear that he would kill my animals out of sheer spite...
Suddenly Josh got this strange look on his face and turned his back to me. He went storming down the hall and into the bedroom. He left me standing in my weight-room/library shaking and wondering what he was going to to do me now. He returned about one minute later (although it seemed like forever) with a loaded shotgun.
To be continued...
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