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Part 6

(Disclaimer: This will be the sixth of a miniature series of blogs that will reference a less-than-loving past relationship. This is the story of my abusive relationship and how I wound up in and out of it over the course of three years. Please see Content Warning before reading if you are concerned about the nature of the story, as I will not be leaving out any details. All names, places, and identities will be altered for no other reason than to avoid conflict. Changed names, locations, and other things deemed necessary will be marked with *.)

I’ve never been the type of girl to cyber stalk a guy, especially after a break up. I never actually understood why any girl would cyber stalk their ex. I feel like that is just asking for heartache. All I knew was that he had a new girlfriend, and that I needed to move on. It drove me crazy, to be quite honest. I could handle the thought of him not being with me, but I couldn’t handle the thought of him being with someone else. I had somewhat of a mental break down.

Then I started hearing things, rumors about myself. How I was crazy, psychotic, needed help, that I was a huge slut, etc. Anyone who knows me well, knows me well enough to know that none of these things are true. But in a town like Ruford City, people prefer gossip over the truth, any day. Gossip is more fun, and the truth just requires too much effort to find. I can remember one time I was at a party and a guy introduced himself to me. I had never seen this person before in my life, nor had I heard of him. When I told him my name, without missing a beat he said, “Oh! Yeah, I’ve heard of you. You’re like, a really big slut.”

I had heard the rumors behind my back, but I never thought I’d hear it spoken to my face. It takes on a whole new impact when someone is standing right in front of you, telling you exactly what they think of you even though they don’t know you from Adam. The truth was, I was too afraid to even speak to other guys because I thought Jesse would hate me for it. Yet, he was telling everyone and their dog that I was sleeping around. It was just so petty and I couldn’t believe it was happening to me.

During this time, I went back to work and started regaining my strength. I needed something to occupy my time and keep me busy. Justin and I were still good friends, and one night there was a huge party over at his place, so he invited me to come. I was a little uneasy about going at first, but I decided that I deserved to go and have fun. Justin ran with a whole different group of friends, and they were all great people. I liked them, and they seemed to like me. They knew about the rumors and just shook their heads, telling me that he did this to his other girlfriends too, and that this was his pattern. For some odd reason, that made me feel a lot better.

As the party winded down, I was sitting at the table playing games with the last few people left from the festivities when my phone went off. To my amazement, it was Jesse. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, not any kind words to each other, any ways. As you probably guessed, he either saw my car at Justin’s house or someone told him that I was at the party. I don’t know how, but I had the balls to tell him I didn’t care less about how he felt of my whereabouts. I told him that he had a girlfriend that he could do what he pleased with, but that it wasn’t me so I owed him no explanation. I told him to leave me alone and to worry about himself from now on, that I was done with his games.

You would have thought that I punched his first born child when I said these words. He called me crying, pleading, asking how I could do this to him. He carried on for quite a while until I decided to meet up with him. His relationship with what’s-her-face didn’t last long, as I knew it wouldn’t. But she wasn’t happy that he had basically chosen me over her, and she was every bit of unpredictable as Jesse was. She helped spread the rumors, though she knew nothing about me, and she called me and texted me a few times just for the sake of drama. I had had enough of her, so I told Jesse I would only get back together with him if he told this girl that she needed to leave us alone. It took a while, but eventually she got the hint and stopped trying to contact us. Although, I really wish I would have never even intervened with their relationship. They were a match made in hell and that would have been interesting to watch unfold. Plus, better her than me when it came to the crazy, abusive episodes. But I shot myself in the foot on that one.

After I had graduated high school, I had committed to going to college a couple of hours away. But even that was not enough to keep me from dating Jesse. I came back every single weekend and ended up dropping out after my first semester. I can’t imagine how disappointed my parents felt. This was probably their last hope for me getting away, and all I did was come right back, like I had never even left. Although, my relationship with Jesse was significantly easier while I was at college because I couldn’t be near him or fight with him as much. I started getting over our fights at a quicker rate. I was becoming annoyed with fighting and gave it less and less effort as time went on. When I got back from college, I stayed back. I enrolled at a Junior College in Ruford City and started my second semester there. Although Jesse and I were back together, I started to really not like him. He seemed to be putting in more and more effort, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be with him anymore, and I wanted to break up with him. Something I had never actually done before. I have said “I’m done” or “leave me alone”, but never broke up with him. It was absolutely horrifying.

He had moved with his dad into a small apartment at the time, and I had been avoiding him and the inevitable conversation that I didn’t want to have. I never went over to the apartment. It was too small and crowded. But I had to get this over with. I went over there one day and we started watching a movie. I was kind of scared because I knew I wasn’t leaving there without breaking up with him, but I didn’t know how he would react. So we started talking about things and he brought it to my attention that I had been stand-offish lately and that he hadn’t seen me in a few days. There was my out. I blamed it on school and the fact that I was busy with work a lot. He started crying, like he knew what was about to happen, so I had to finish what I started.

“I just don’t have time for a relationship right now,” I felt awful, because he was clearly hurting. He tried to convince me that he could wait until I was done being busy and that this was just how school was for everyone, but at the end of the day, those were all just excuses that I had to make up to leave him. I wasn’t attracted to him and I didn’t like him. I felt weird around him now. I felt like he was a leech on my life, and I just wanted to start all over without him.

This night was the worst thing I have ever experienced in my life. He was sad at first. Then he became hysterical, then angry, and then violent. I was not sticking around for this so I got up and said that I was leaving. He jumped in front of the door, which was in the kitchen. I stayed calm, and agreed to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk, he wanted to make me miserable. He told me he would kill himself if I left there tonight as anything but his girlfriend. I started to call the cops because things started getting far out of hand. He slapped my phone from me and pulled a knife from the block right next to him on the counter. He was pointing the knife at me and still standing in front of the door.

“Oh, so you’re going to kill me now?” I said with ease. But Lord knows I was scared.

“No, I’m going to kill myself, and you’re going to watch because this is what you did to me. This is your fault!” he screamed. And with that, he began to cut his wrists with the knife in his hand. He clearly wasn’t serious about wanting to die that night, becuase he was only scratching himself, drawing hardly any blood at all. Nevertheless, I wasn’t willing to call his bluff. I somehow grabbed my phone while he was doing this, and although he was standing in front of the door with a knife, I tried to get around him. Fight or flight is real, and I chose flight. I successfully got around him and he dropped the knife. He was yelling, screaming, coming unglued and basically being a raging mess. He continued to tell me that he would kill himself if I left, but I knew the truth. No, he would not kill himself if I left, or he would have killed himself the other hundreds of times he threatened me with suicide throughout our relationship.

He came after me as I tried to leave, yet again, and I slapped him across the face. He slammed my head against the door and tried to strangle me. I punched him. I was defending myself, and possibly my life at this point because the knives were in plain sight from where we stood. I was absolutely horrified by what was happening. He backed away from me.

“Is this what you want, Corsi?” he slapped himself, harder than I slapped him. “You want to beat my ass? Here, I’ll do it for you!”

I have never, ever, ever in my life seen or heard of any of the things that this guy did, until I had to experience them myself. Jesse began hitting himself in the face as hard as he could. I sat there, astonished at what I was watching. His face swelled up almost immediately, but I was not sticking around for the circus act. I bolted out the door, finally. This was a top floor apartment so the only way to get up and down was by way of some iron stairs on the outside of the building. Jesse caught me half way down the steps and we fought for a few seconds until I finally got him away from me and made it to my car, barely. At first, I didn’t lock the door in time. He opened my door and tried to grab me and drag me out of the driver’s seat. I fought him, and won. I slammed my door, locked it and started the car. I was gone. I called the cops first and then his mother. I called the cops incase of the 1 in a million chance that he would actually kill himself, and I called his mom to let her know that he was threatening to kill himself and that the cops were on the way. She was mad because I had called the cops. She said that if I wouldn’t have gone over there and upset him like that in the first place, that all of this could have been avoided and that she no longer wanted to be in the middle of our little tifs.

I didn’t care about any of this, I was so relieved to be out of there. I agreed to talk to the cops about what had happened, but not over at that apartment. I met them elsewhere, gave them the story and moved on with my life. At least, I tried to move on with it.

A few days later, it was brought to my attention that Jesse had taken a picture of his face after having punched himself over and over. He looked like Quasimodo. This picture was making it’s way through the internet as a depiction of what “an abusive relationship” looks like. He was telling everyone that I had done that to him.

Of course, I couldn’t very well break up with him without repercussion. Then the threats started coming in.

To be continued…

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