Dont’chu Ever Try to Fuck Me, Tony.

When I first met Chris, it had been years since I had associated with anyone outside of my usual circle. I don’t trust easily, if ever at all, but I was really inclined to move on from a situationship, two in fact that were starting to feel like ‘it’s been years and years and years, what the hell are we doing?’ Sooner or later, you get tired of mister ‘wyd’, and this was that point. I felt ready to start fresh, but also, be in something that was healthy. I was ready to make a conscious decision about my love-mate and what I wanted in that man that I so carefully built in my mind like they built Lisa in Weird Science.  Those qualities to me, came down to a simple few. The standard ‘don’t do anything against me and mine’ was my approach. He seemed to understand that basic principle, so I moved into the next phase of the initial conversation. The want of me having a life partner to laugh, play, and travel with outweighed my skepticism about love, and people in general so I decided to talk with the someone I had mutually found. I hate to say that my initial thought was correct, but now almost five years later, here we are in ‘the healing process’.

So, here’s how the get-down all started………

I was engaged in messages with him but didn’t want to meet up with him just yet because I wasn’t quite ready. We talked on the phone and messaged each other for about a week, and I was fine just going with the flow. He wanted to get together, and pressed me but in a subtle way, saying we didn’t have to do anything big, we could just meet up and hang out for awhile, and we didn’t have to be alone. Against my better judgement, I gave in. I had an inkling that maybe I should wait, or perhaps not even meet him at all, but I didn’t listen to my intuition. I was firm in saying ‘no’ but it’s like the child that keeps asking the mom for the same thing a thousand times until she is so tired of hearing the question that she finally just says yes. All of a sudden, I was ‘blurting out directions’. It felt a little reckless, but romantic in a way. In fact, I believe I even said something along the lines of ‘can you imagine if we ended up together, that would be crazy’. It certainly would not have been the first time that I had done something that most would consider ‘wild’ but now I understand the element of stranger-danger and why the term exists.

He would soon show up with the only fast food I would eat at the time, McDonald’s French fries. A large fry for me, and one for my eldest daughter; sweet right… (that should have been my first clue, but at the time, I wasn’t even thinking to look for stuff like that). If I didn’t like him, no big deal, I didn’t have to see him again; and if I did like him, well that was kinda the whole point.

We were talking for a few hours, the usual getting-to-know-you basics, flirting with each other into the night. It was casual, and I was comfortable; none of my alarm bells were going off. We were obviously physically attracted to each other and had some things in common so I assumed we would be seeing each other again. Thinking ahead, and also back to a couple bumps in the road, I was being cautious and wanted to approach whatever this was in a really ‘grown-up’ way. I wanted both of us to know exactly what we were getting into so we would both know what to expect. I was confident in who I was, what I wanted, and more importantly, what I didn’t want. The coast seemed to be clear, so I proceeded to get at what I really wanted to know without going any further.

I insisted on meeting him on my home turf, at home, because that is where I felt the most comfortable. I was already nervous enough to meet him so meeting him out alone wasn’t an option for me. In case anything happened, I wasn’t alone, and I felt safe knowing there was weapons stashed throughout the house. The SAME EVENING in which we actually met, as we were sitting at my dining table, the infamous ‘talk’ took place. This would be the one I would refer to in many fights down the road. I switched gears, and got serious. I had a few questions (also known as deal-breakers), and I wanted to make one very specific statement. We’re adults, and I expected very clear questions, very clear answers. I also wanted to offer the same information. I didn’t ask anything that I, myself, wasn’t prepared to answer. I’m not willing to compromise with certain things and I figured if anything, I would be saving both of us a lot of trouble. Call it ‘conditional-love’; but my love was coming with clear boundaries and offerings, no more ‘ride-or-die’ bullshit. No games, just sports; kinda like Nike.

I ASKED HIM…. Who do you live with/what kind of work do you do, what kind of drugs or alcohol do you dabble in, and do you have any ‘bitch-baggage’. Finally, is there anything that I need to know about you, tell me now so that I don’t find out later.  

This is what he told me.

                             *********************

He said that his mom was semi-sick so he was living with her to kind of help her out and make sure that everything in their home was in good-working order. He said he did HVAC work, was gainfully employed, and worked on cars and other stuff as they needed fixing which is good because it’s a continuous side-hustle. He said he hardly ever drank, didn’t do any hard drugs, and he was 420-friendly. He also told me that his last relationship was about six months ago and that it was never serious to begin with; they were never ‘really together’ (insert eyeroll here).

Chris was his name, he in fact did do HVAC work, and yes, he knew how to fix things. Annnnd, Ba-Dum-Bum…. that was the extent of the truth.

Everything else that came out of his mouth was a lie, but of course, I wouldn’t find that out until much later, and then only piece by piece. When everything finally revealed itself in due course, it felt like some kind of joke that everyone else was in on, but me. I felt surrounded by wild animals; all wanting a piece of me for what reason, I still have no idea. I didn’t come into his life; he came into mine, and not only did he come into it, but he came under false pretenses and flipped it upside down.

He was very smooth in how he did things with me, and I never suspected a thing other than what he told me. I just believed every word that he said without a second thought. I believed him because I asked for the truth straight-up, and I thought that I would get the truth, straight-up. In wrapping up that small line of questioning with him, I began to speak and give my own little spiel…. I’m a teacher, I lived with my eldest daughter, son had just left for the Navy, and my two middles I co-parent and share with their dad whom I have a great relationship with. No drinking, no hard drugs; I was coming out of a ‘thing’ or two but ready to move on. We seemed to be on the same page, and I was pretty happy about that. It’s rare these days to find someone remotely decent enough to even make it five minutes through a date. You can only look at someone for so long before you eventually have to talk to them, and I’m not shallow like that anyway; I need to feel someone, regardless of what they look like. It’s essential that I am able to close my eyes and feel throughout my body and my senses alike, the actual love that I have, and reciprocation of that love.

Back to the point, we got our ‘talk’ out of the way, but I had one more thing to say and the vibe was right for me to spill it.

I told him, ‘ all joking aside; you seen Scarface, right…….well, I’m only gonna tell you this one time… Dont’chu ever try to fuck me, Tony’. He kind of laughed, but I let him know that I was dead-ass serious. Basically, if he didn’t start none, then there wouldn’t be none. I told him that I love hard but I hate even harder, so don’t ever make me regret getting involved with him. Don’t fuck me over, don’t do me wrong, no matter where it goes. I was ready for the ‘very adult, very cliché relationship’ and whether that lead to friends or lovers, I made it positively clear that it was best to handle me carefully, but in return, I would do the same. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to watch his back, or his heart with me.

My heart, on the other hand, is fragile. I am also very particular, and loyal to what deserves loyalty, and I wasn’t at all shy to let him know that I would not be participating in any kind of circus, because I don’t like clowns. I also told him that I was so relieved and happy that he didn’t do any hard drugs, heroin and methamphetamine, specifically. I have zero tolerance for those two drugs in particular (little did I know at the time that there would be a third drug that would come into our lives, though it would not come into our lives until later, it would come). For many personal reasons, I cannot be around those drugs; they bring out the devil in people from what I’ve seen, and I was not willing to mingle with anyone who is involved in any way with them.

I was in a good space all around, and the last thing that I wanted to do was play fuckaround. The kids were all okay, nothing for us to worry about, I was teaching full-time, had a great apartment, nice ride, ready to let go of hurts that I had no control over; devout and spiritual, it was perhaps the best I ever was up to that point; and this is already after many, many, many earth-shattering, life-altering circumstances. I didn’t want any kind of drama in my life ever again, no unnecessary shenanigans. I had a real need for everything to be quiet and settled. I literally said on a random Tuesday, ‘I wanna be a wife’, and within a couple weeks I would be seriously involved. Chris and I seemed to mesh well, so I was willing to take a chance to, at the very least have some new male energy around me.

I was the perfect naive target. He hit me in a way that I never expected, and if not for my ability to feel a shifts in energy in general, my powerful intuition leading and literally pulling me along the way, and a dream I believe was Divine, he would have pulled it off.

He talked a big game.

HE LIED.

Almost five exhausting years later, I still think back to that first meeting. I get so angry, thinking that if only he had been honest with me that I never would have ended up in the mess that I ultimately got twisted up with him in. I would have walked away had he let me have any kind of choice in the matter. By lying to me, he made my choice for me. He picked a person, and things, that I never, ever, ever would have chosen. I would not have given a second thought about finding someone else, a different man altogether. I didn’t want to be part of any man’s clean-up crew, I wanted a partner, not a project and I was pretty adamant about making it known.

He didn’t reveal himself initially, or change overnight, so I never knew exactly who he was. I still don’t know, because he is someone different depending on who you’re talking to. Sometimes he’s Chris, sometimes he’s Christopher, sometimes he’s CJ; I don’t know who exactly he is, I probably never will, and he probably doesn’t even know, himself.

I was ass-deep before I even realized what was happening to me, and to the degree in which it was. Narcissists have a way of doing things one crumb at a time, one little comment, one little space of time unaccounted for; one confusing fight after another, and before you know it, you’re already in the ‘too late’ phase and your life becomes something you don’t know how to maneuver. It makes it that much more challenging, and nearly impossible to ‘just leave’ like people think it is.

The other night, I was merely making some notes in my phone about another piece of writing pertaining to this train wreck. I was making bullet points about specific fights or altercations we had been in. By the time I made a list longer than I expected, I actually said out loud, sharp as steel, ‘I WAS FUCKIN’ ABUSED’. Yes, I had known that very obvious fact; but realizing it as I saw the better part of thirty incidents that I jotted down without having to think hard at all about what to write down; well, that was something else entirely. It was as if it had just dawned on me that I had been subjected to all these terrible things. It was almost more painful to realize it at that moment, than it was when it was actually happening because it felt like it was happening all over again, but all at once. I suddenly understood how much was said, and done, and it was overwhelming to think how long these things continued because I had to wait until I gave birth. Then once I did, I knew that I had to get out, and away from Chris. No way could I keep going the way things were, because each day was worse than the day before. And no way was I doing any of it with the kids around.

It was a constant cycle of break-up and make-up, throughout the day. Just because you’re getting along briefly in the morning is no guarantee that by the evening you won’t be slamming your foreheads against each other in another after-dinner-brawl. You’re trapped in it, so all you can really do is roll with it, gut it out, hope for the best, and try to keep up. Secretly, I had a place in my heart and mind, that he could never get to, tarnish, or take away; a place where I keep my cherished memories, future goals, silly thoughts, and deepest dreams and desires. I drifted away into that place day after day, night after night, to help me to at least rest my mind and body as much as I could.

All of this is the type of shit I wanted to avoid. These are the reasons why I had that talk at the table with him that first night. This is why I gave a speech, and a warning. I wanted to avoid fighting, lying, sneaking around, anything that was childish, spiteful, or negative. I gave him fair warning that all bets would be off if he fucked me over in any such way. I was firm in my words, and I was very serious about what I was saying to him. I was very serious about my life and what I wanted in, and out of it. I told him once I stop loving, I no longer love, or like, anymore. Like a light switch, I turn off and there is no looking back. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to; my heart and mind don’t work that way. My head will put the brakes when my heart wants to apply the gas, and feelings don’t stand a chance with me when it comes it logic and facts because of how they greatly affect my physical being. True-to-form, as time went on, I actually became allergic to him. I would get red, I would feel hot, I got hives across my chest, my heart would beat so hard and so fast that it sounded like it was swishing in my ears.

Thinking about it now, I feel so betrayed by him, and I blame myself for not ‘seeing it sooner’. It took what felt like forever for the whole picture to be revealed, like actually developing pictures in a dark room; the picture is fuzzy, until it’s clear. I was busy working, and being a teacher doesn’t stop. You don’t clock-out. Raising kids, and running the house, cooking from scratch; no, I didn’t think I had to worry about him, so I just didn’t. I felt safe, and in hindsight, it infuriates me. I should have stayed guarded.

Once the breaking down started, it would never stop, nor would it let up. One thing after another, if there wasn’t a problem, he would make one. It happened day and night, and day, into the next night, literally like clockwork. I was trapped by the same insanities, the same arguments, stuck in what is often referred to as ‘the cycle’. This person was toxic, and I thought I could avoid that toxicity with a verbal ‘contract’ of sorts. You be honest with me, I’ll be honest with you, and round and round we’ll go. Not only did that not work, but it backfired enormously. No matter how much you think you’re on top of it, or how much you THINK you’ve got everything covered from all angles, the reality is you can’t cover ‘them’ and the shit they do.

It was a ‘great’ talk, followed by a make-out session. Even typing that, I shook my head and made a face at my own self. How foolish, how trusting I was of this person. I let him in, I made him feel welcome, I took care of him from the very beginning, barely asking for anything beyond basic decency in return.

Quickly, we were in a relationship. And again, when he asked me to be in that relationship, I gave him such an easy ‘out’. I told him that before asking me to be with him, I wanted him to consider what it would take to be with a woman life myself; an alpha, someone half (very) holy, but half (very) hood. I’m Puerto Rican and we have been known to be passionately protective as well as independent. I’m emotionally and sexually high maintenance, and I am also always surrounded by things like snacks and candles. I require things like nature walks and rough sex. I also need certain things with my partner, like places I can dance and places I can create, like bookstores. I definitely have the eccentricities that are standard with a writer. I told him to think about it, and then maybe ask me again after he slept on it a night or two. He said he had, I asked him the next day, and the single became a set.

Everything was all fine and good. I went to work, and when I got home, he was already there or was on his way. He would call and text me from early in the morning until late at night, and most nights, he just slept over. The drive from Castro Valley from Vacaville wasn’t a bother for him; even though it was an hour in each direction to his mom’s. I felt like wow, this dude is making an effort for me; he seems to be walking-the-walk. He would commute to work, and we were living what very closely resembled, a life. From the moment I ordered the pit bulls around my heart to roll over and heel, that’s when it all began to happen. I was happy. I felt content. Had I really found ‘my person’, a man to be with when I was finally ready, and able? I thought I had it all figured out.

I was only making it easier for him; essentially making a web of all the strings I was being given, a web in which I would later be tangled and confined.

In trying to show him that I was worth it, I was actually lessening my own value, shadowing my own needs, as well as my accomplishments and accolades. I was unintentionally clipping my own wings. I wasn’t trying to ‘impress’ him, but I really wanted him to know that he could trust me, that he could fall back on me if push came to shove; that I was genuine, that I had his best interests at heart.

*********************

Skip ahead forty-six months to present day, and this guy has been a word beyond a nightmare; and I say that with the utmost irritation banging the keys as I type and not even meaning to. He still won’t stop trying to get us back to those first days, even though they’re so long gone and were so far between that they don’t even come to mind unless I’m sitting down and writing about it. Not to mention the fact, that everything was some made-up thing, it didn’t really exist the way that I believed it was. My reality, and his reality, were two very different places, with an immense distance in between. Of course, I wouldn’t realize that until I moved from my world, into his; and what a foggy, gray place that turned out to be, literally.

Now that I’ve returned safely to ‘Kansas’, it’s like I’m a whole different person without even meaning to be. Born-again, yet again, but this time, with a profound understanding, and a humility that can only be obtained by extreme suffering and crying out to Jesus for help, from the ground.

I feel hyper-aware; cautious, uneasy, not at all like the social butterfly I once was. I used to walk into a lounge, by myself, just because I wanted to go out alone and I was always well-received with the cameo. I protect myself in such an over-the-top way, that I won’t even talk to anyone or allow anyone near me who I don’t already know and trust (shout-out to my middle school besties DeeDee & S. Pimpin; and they’re married, so I literally visit one house outside of very few family). I won’t take a phone number, and I certainly won’t give one either. I’m taking more time to heal, to recover from this big ass bully who presented a man to me who existed only in his head. I’ve gone on one disastrous date since the break-up, and that was enough. There is someone special in my life, as of just recently, and I will leave it at that. I would never give Chris the satisfaction of knowing really anything that is going on in my life no matter how much I want to rub it in his face.

It was all such a confusing and painful maze; I just want it to be over.

I was private before; I’m a near-recluse, now. A really handsome black gentleman came over to my car, told me I was so beautiful and asked if he could take me on a date. We talked on the phone I think for about a month and a half, he kept asking me to go out, I wouldn’t go anywhere, so he eventually stopped calling. I don’t blame him. I was too nervous to even go for tacos. If I wasn’t so at ease with my ‘mystery guy’, I don’t think I would be talking to anyone still.

Even now, it’s so hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that all this happened to me. It happened to me while I was pregnant, so our baby was a victim of abuse even before he was even born. That is such a painful fact to acknowledge.

It happened to me both during and after I lost my daughter in my arms as my mother, sister, and brother held us both.

Even as devastating and all-consuming as my grief has been; grief now times three in just two years and a few months (losing my beloved daughter, a dear and lifelong friend whom I laid to rest a year and one day later, and just a few months ago, my cousin, as well) even still, Chris has been much, much worse. That is how bad he has been.

He has never quit.

Never let up for even a moment.

He is predictable, but not, so I’m always on edge.

He has never really said sorry and truly meant it by changing his actions. Never really checked up on his son to make sure he had everything he needs or that he was even okay. He refuses to help with the son we share, because I’m not ‘with him’. He won’t even responsibly help with the baby; the baby who just turned four, so that I could rest and recover from such tragic events. He couldn’t even handle a weekend while I studied for my Real Estate Principles final exam, without getting arrested. I passed the exam, then had to grab our son from our niece since the dad had ‘reservations’ elsewhere.

Chris never gave a fuck about anything else but himself. He remains selfish and irresponsible and is still blaming me for leaving him. It’s funny how someone can think that they can punch you so hard that they knock the wind out of you, but then you’re gonna spoon them to sleep with so much care. They can hold you down in the dark by the wrists and bite your face, and then you’re gonna serve them breakfast in bed. They can burn your hand with a cigarette, and then you’ll take a late-night bath with them. What kind of a sick ass place is THAT?

I want it all gone, erased.

I don’t want the reminders I carry, and I wish the triggers would stop.

The sudden anxiety, the occasional nightmare when I don’t even dream anymore, I want it all to not even be true, to never have happened. He won’t do us right, but he won’t let us go either. He wanted me to stay to do five basic things; cook, clean, take his shit, spread my legs, and shut up about it. Beyond that, I was disposable, ‘nothing special’ he said. Ironic how with a rotation of ladies-of-the-night, he still can’t total them up and have what he had just in me. Although brief, it was the closest thing he ever had to a traditional family, a normal schedule, and balanced meals. He has worn me down and worn me out to the point where I’m no longer afraid of him coming in the front door and I almost wish he would. I keep seeing these flashbacks in my mind of things that happened between us, like moving pictures that just repeat in my mind; and it literally makes me physically uncomfortable and upsets my stomach, so it takes me time to even recover from those thoughts when I do have them.

                       *********************

I know I did what’s right in leaving. How could I be expected to live, or love, in an environment where everything that lives there, withers ever-so-slowly and dies because it eventually just succumbs to the space in which it is neglected and suffocated. Darkness fills even the daytime, and there is no escaping it, until you actually do escape it, and even then, you can only get as far as therapy will allow you, week by week.

I didn’t start any of this, I tried to prevent it, I tried to be proactive; and the bomb still exploded in my face and decimated everything in its path. Now it’s all about the redesign, and the rebuild, and it’s as exhausting as it sounds.

Since I have been in ‘the ending’ it makes me think about the beginning, and it always leads me back to that initial first meeting. That initial meeting was the fork in the road; not the typical left or right like ‘what city should we move to’ or ‘should I take the promotion’, but this was the point at which to proceed forward, or to turn around completely. This was the point where two lives would merge into one, and it would either be a dream-team situation, a toxic nightmare, or a mundane grind.

I took that seriously and I took it to heart. Unfortunately, my teammate sucked. In fact, he sucked so bad that he didn’t even know WHAT TEAM HE WAS ON or what the specs and requirements of his position were. On top of it, he claimed to be the best man for the job, and when he failed, it was all my fault.

Now, forty-six months later, here the fuck we are. I can’t believe I thought it was something sincere. The more I realize what transpired between us, the more I don’t understand it. He took the softness of my femininity and bullied me into fighting back with him and I hated it. Being forced into the ring is a really awful feeling, especially when you don’t ordinarily behave that way and you despise those types of behaviours. I don’t like to bring out the psycho. After it is all said and done, he calls me crazy, and salty; as if I didn’t have a million reasons to want to absolutely annihilate him.

Exhaling deeply, I shake my head because I wish he would have listened to me when I was trying to warn him about how our future would unfold if he didn’t heed my warning. I barely asked anything of him, and I offered and gave the best I could. It was briefly great, but once that one Jenga piece was pulled, it all came crashing, screeching, and tumbling down.

All bets were off.

It was war.

It was me, against him.

It was me against his ‘family’, and his flock of flying monkeys made up of the randoms and the ratchets. I have tried my damnedest to keep everyone out of the mix, but he insists the more the merrier. It feels like me against all of them, I’m always outnumbered, but even collectively they aren’t a match for me, whether or not they acknowledge it. I’m not the cause, I’m the queen, and none of them like me for it.

The pieces have been everywhere, and it has taken time to sort them out. I needed some time, and some space, and little by little, the scar fades. It was horrific, yet I feel thankful that I went through it. Now I see things in a whole new light. I know which things are worth saving, who is worth my time and energy, what I want to do, where I want to go. I have learned what boundaries are and how to enforce them. I have learned how to protect my peace. I make time for art, and I dance in my living room again. I eat healthy, I drink plenty of water and pineapple juice with aloe vera. I pray, I read, I love to propagate plants. I’m always at the park, in the woods, at a bookstore, or near the water. I close my eyes when I listen to meaningful music, and I drive fast on the freeway late at night listening to trap music like I used to again. I’m working on self-care and following the advice of my team of therapists to mostly slow down and take it easy. I’m finding my voice again, finding my way. I’ve remained true to myself, and my faith is stronger than I ever imagined it could be.

It feels good to dress up again. It feels good to stare at the moon. It feels good to not be constantly ill, simply from being at ‘home’. I’m feeling more like myself by the day, yet emerging new somehow. It’s funny how I never had to be so hard in my life, and yet that very hardness protected the softest and most fragile reaches of my heart.

The girl who laid down that conversation on that fateful first night, she’s not lost anymore. She went from being the one who was abused, to the one who is begging for just one more chance to rumble with him, simply to be able to enjoy the rush of connecting my fist with his face just one more time because of a fight that I started and not him.

Sunglasses, an almost all-black wardrobe, Bible verses have replaced the Roman Numerals that were once inked across my hand, there’s a book bag on my shoulder and a Rose-Boba Milk Tea in hand; this is how you can once again find me. I’m a Pisces, I’m an INFJ, I’m Puerto Rican, and I’m a believer; that all makes for some very good math. I may have lost my balance because someone quite literally pushed me down with both hands in the middle of my back and onto all fours down onto the cement, but Chris positively hates this new woman that has risen from the ashes. The tiniest one, the one with the biggest heart, made him fall to his knees, and now, he is the one who is having a barrage of technical difficulties. He is lost in the whirlwind and can’t get out as of yet.

I walked out of his life, took our son with me, and his life has fallen apart.

He begs, he cries; I have a blank stare.

*********************

I don’t have to see him anymore, and I’m glad. Just the sight of him makes me want to do some flying Ninja kick right to his throat. I mean that more than ever, and I’m addressing that directly to him because I KNOW he will read this, and more importantly, I KNOW that THIS time, he ONE HUNDRED percent BELIEVES me…. Dont’chu ever try to fuck me, Tony. Dont’chu ever try to make me take your abuse. Dont’chu ever try to blame me for all the shit that you caused.

*********************

I gave him ample time to realize the errors of his ways. I forgave him for things that I never would have accepted or inflicted. I’m raising his son in love, by hand, so he never has to worry; it still isn’t good enough.

I warned him.

I tangled and wrestled with him and the demons who reside within him.

Present day, my how the tables have turned. When right is right and intentions are good, the light will certainly make its way through even the slimmest cracks to light the way to the path that you’re meant to be on….

Chris told me a story once; about the first girl he ever fell in love with. She was Jasmine, from Aladdin (which I never saw until he made me watch it with him because I hate Disney). She became his fixation as a young boy. Apparently, he watched the movie many times and dreamed he would one day have her and that sort of magic that he saw in her… He always called me ‘my Jasmine’. He said I reminded him of her, what he always wanted in life with a family, and how he felt as a young boy as he dreamed of her. In leaving him, I also took ‘her’ away, I took the ‘family’ dream; I even took the very nostalgia from his childhood about this particular princess and the life he imagined in his mind back when he was a kid in a not-so-ideal family dynamic.  

He took and took from me, and the things that he didn’t take, he utterly destroyed, but I remain the heatless bitch in the story.

I’ve had to start from the bottom all over again, like some teenage kid that is leaving home for the first time and starting out with a sideways crate as an end table. Clothes were in bags, I was eating fruit, bread, and beans out of a can in my car. I was getting ready for work in public restrooms that were in the vicinity of my job; it was fuckin awful. Nearly every single step of the way since the moment that Chris bit my neck with his fangs, he has been draining me. I’ve been smashed in between ‘what’s happening, and what’s gonna happen next’ for so long that I don’t remember what life even felt like before I was involved with this pendejo.

It feels like I’m meeting myself for the first time, or like I’ve been woken up from a deep sleep. One bad day too many was all I could take, and once again, true to my word as I told him in the beginning, I left when I ‘couldn’t take it anymore’. I remember the exact conversation. It was at a stoplight in Vacaville, and we were turning left on one of the main roads. Chris was driving, he was once again talking to me like filth and calling me names. It was the middle of the night and hardly any cars were out, and as I waited for the light to turn green, I told him ‘Go ahead, keep talkin to me like that…. keep calling me a fuckin n***** (I use the term, strictly for context and accuracy, as I’m extremely against the word, he would repeatedly address me as such. No, I don’t believe he is racist, he merely preyed on my passions and threw gas where he knew there would be fire), because the moment I can’t take it anymore, I’m just gonna fuckin leave, so enjoy the fuck out of making me feel like insignificant shit, enjoy your moment of fuckin thunder, because once I’m done, I’m out, and I ain’t coming back. When I leave, mark my words, you will never recover, and I’m not even gonna have to do shit’!

I made it out, and that is a very serious statement to make, such a painful truth.

I survived late night fights, early morning attitudes, outlandish lies, slander, humiliation, embarrassment. I survived him checking my naked body for marks from me ‘out being a whore’. I survived him calling and texting literally thousands upon thousands of times in just mere days. The list goes on and on. It took an ENORMOUS amount of faith, prayer, time, planning, connections; to get him away from me, and me away from him. He is one person out of the infinite number of people I have crossed paths with, that I will always have in the crosshairs. I will never forget just how evil, and methodical he is and can be; especially towards me since he has an insatiable need to get back at me for leaving.

I warned him; and, I gave him chances that I never should have given way too many times. Trying to ‘make it work for the baby’ just wasn’t going to work.

My job with him is done.

I don’t owe him anything else and I never owed him anything in the first place.

I warned him, and ultimately, I’m glad he learned that I was in fact serious about what I said. He can go be big, bad Chris, anywhere but around me. I’m not a doormat or a punching bag, and I never wanted any of this to happen. I did my best, and I literally came with a *disclaimer.