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Part 8

(Disclaimer: This will be the eighth 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 was so lost. They hauled Jesse off in the cruiser and I was just standing there, knowing that there was no way out of it this time. I had to call my parents. I had no choice, because I didn’t have the money to pay for the damage, and I certainly didn’t have a way of getting home. So I called them and told them exactly what happened.

It was basically agreed upon that they would be happy to pay for the damage to my car on one condition: I had to cut Jesse out of my life, once and for all. I knew I was lying when I told them I would. They probably knew it too, but they made it clear that anything damaged, broken or busted from that point on was my responsibility. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.

I don’t know how long they would have kept Jesse in jail, but after two days of jail time, I started getting antsy. I was nervous about what would happen when he got out. I knew in my heart that he was sorry. He had to be. That wasn’t him that smashed my windows, it was the drugs, at least, that’s what I continued to tell myself. I only had about $250 to my name and still hadn’t paid rent. But I couldn’t wait any longer, so I tried to go visit Jesse. Since my name was on the report that the police filed, they would not let me see him. So I bailed him out with every bit of money I had saved up. Yeah, I know what you are thinking. Trust me, I’m well aware now of what an ignoramus I was back then.

So he got out and I waited. He texted me when he was able to, like nothing ever happened. We talked for a minute, then he said he would text me later that night. I thought that was strange, he was short with me and didn’t say thank you or sorry or anything. Just acted like he wasn’t mad at me anymore.

I found out through the grapevine that he had plans to hang out with his ex that night. She was actually the first person he called after he was released. I became infuriated. There was nothing I could do, so I hung out with some friends that night and vented to them. I ranted for hours, and at this point, I wasn’t so much depressed as I was mad. But as the days flew by, we remained not speaking. I thought it was hilarious when I found out that he and his roommate were evicted from their apartment on a noise complaint. I got a little bit of a sick satisfaction from finally hearing about him reaping consequences for his actions.

My laughter didn’t last long, however, because guess where he moved to next? That’s right, Jesse became my neighbor in no time at all. He knew where I lived. He knew what he was doing. And he knew he could manipulate me into thinking that he did it for me, to be closer to me. I wasn’t fooled for long because I found out that he had been sleeping with one of my good “friends” behind my back. Neither of them were sorry. During the duration of the time that he lived there, I had moved out of my apartment and gone home to live with my parents, which they didn’t mind at all. Still, Jesse and I talked and hung out frequently. It wasn’t working though because we were still fighting quite often, and his roommates hated him. It was awkward going over there, especially after I had learned that he was sleeping with one of my friends. I just never thought much of it because I knew in my heart of hearts that Jesse wasn’t even the right person for me, and that our relationship was not going to be able to sustain another falling out. I was just hooked. I can’t explain it. It’s like being locked inside of a house with no windows. Eventually, I was use to the darkness and I quit trying to find my way out, knowing it was hopeless. He would either threaten to kill himself or get violent with me when I tried to leave him, so I gave up the thought of ever truly getting rid of him.

One night I was going to a party with some friends. I asked Jesse if he wanted to go but of course he declined. I shrugged it off and went anyway. To my surprise, Jesse actually ended up showing up at this party, but not to say hi to me. He had a bag full of “candy”, and he was there for no other reason than to make money. I was mad, but I wasn’t in the mood to cause a scene. I left the party and went back to his apartment, where he was expecting me. I told him of some of the things that had happened that night after he had left.

“What, were you whoring around with all your friends, too?” he asked.

I was so caught off guard by his comment that I just opted to go to bed. I was sick of the way he was treating me. He continued accusing me of sleeping around until I finally started screaming back. I told him how crazy I thought he was for always accusing me of things that he had actually done. I told him he had a guilty conscience because he was the one who couldn’t stop sleeping around and that it was no reflection on me. I told him I was sick of his shit and that I was as good as gone. We stood in the living room, screaming across the coffee table for at least 3 or 4 minutes before he started to come after me. He was on something, as always. And when he was on something, he took on this form of superhuman strength. I was no match for him tonight, so I ran to the other side of the coffee table. We were basically playing cat and mouse at this point. He reached for me again and grabbed my hair, he started yanking me down. I flipped the coffee table over to get him away from me, but he still had hold of me. Grabbing me by the throat, he slammed my head into the wall and spit in my face. When I fell to the ground, he pulled me up by my hair, and began choking me out. I don’t know how long I was out for, but when I woke up he was dragging me outside by my hair. He dumped me on his front step and I could feel a pounding in my head, but I could hardly move. I wailed for him to bring me my phone and kicked the door, weakly. He opened the door, threw my phone on the ground, dumped my purse on me, and then leaned down to say something. He was laughing. I couldn’t make out what he said, but he did tell me to leave. “Leave?” I thought, “I can’t even see straight. How am I suppose to leave?”

He went back inside. I remained on the front porch, unmoved and disoriented. No more than two minutes later, he opened the door and had something in his hands.

“Bitch, I said get the f*ck out! You don’t wanna listen? Fine,” and with that I felt a blow to my face, followed by a cold, rotten smell. I became more aware of what was going on after the second blow. He was throwing eggs at me. They were hitting me in the face. The eggs were old and rotten, and he slapped me across the face with one. I was well aware of what was going on now so I started to move. I grabbed my purse, my keys, my wallet, my phone, and left the rest of whatever was dumped out. When he saw me starting to move, he ran inside and dead bolted the door. I heard it. I picked up my phone to call the cops, but it was broken. I started to panic because I still couldn’t get my body to catch up with my mind and everything was still fuzzy.

I started crawling. I was crying, I was confused, and I was hurting. As I made my way toward the parking lot, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A faint flashing of red and blue shown bright as it neared the apartment I was crawling from. I didn’t know if they were there for me or not, so I crawled out to the road, stumbling and falling, but I held up my hand. I was screaming. The cops jumped out of the cruiser and carried me over to the side of their car, leaning me up against its tires. There was another figure there with them, he was a ride-along. They told him to sit with me until they figured out what was going on. He hardly said a word to me, but I could see by his demeanor that he felt hopeless just looking at me. I was embarrassed to be seen by anyone, but I was also grateful that the cops had showed up. It turns out a neighbor had called them about a domestic dispute. I don’t know who that person was, but I owe them an abundance of “thank you’s”.

The cops banged down the door and arrested Jesse almost immediately. As Jesse came out of his house, he was crying and pleading for me to “tell them what I did.”

“Baby, tell them what you did! Corsi, tell them what really happened! Why do you always do this to me?!” he was putting on a helluva show, I must admit.

The guy could charm a snake in public, but behind closed doors there were no rules. This time, the officers didn’t need to talk to me to know what had happened. They saw the report from when he busted my windshield and asked me who my parents were so that they could come get me. I willingly gave them that information and waited for my dad.

As I waited, they kept Jesse detained, but I overheard one of them say that he was about to get off, so he didn’t have time to do the paperwork required to take him to jail. Plus, he was convinced that I would just bail him out again. I honestly did not care what they did to Jesse that night, because sitting there in the parking lot of a shady apartment complex, covered from head to toe with rotten eggs is what it took for me to finally turn my back, for good, on Jesse.

They ended up letting Jesse go back inside until my dad showed up, but he was not alone. My uncle was with him and neither of them were happy. They kept their cool around the officers, thanked them, and then the officers were gone.

My uncle made a beeline for Jesse’s front door and began knocking on it. Of course, Jesse is a coward of the worst kind. He tends to only prey on those who are weaker than he, and no amount of pills or drugs could ever prepare him for a tango with my uncle or my dad. My dad yelled at my uncle to stop before the cops came back. He was right, Jesse was not worth the trouble it would take to receive the much-needed ass whooping he deserved. After some convincing, my dad, uncle and I drove home.

I remember the silence being so loud that I couldn’t even close my eyes. My uncle sobbed and my dad reached back to pat me on the leg once or twice. Nothing was said on the way home.

I had cut off all communication with Jesse. I changed my number, I blocked him on every form of social media I had, and I started to begin again. I was depressed, yes. But only because I knew nothing of a loving relationship. I felt dirty, like no one would want me. As it turns out, the third party figure that had rode along with the cops on that eventful evening had reached out to me a few days later on Facebook to see if I was OK. If it weren’t for him, I probably would have fallen into the same old routine of going back to Jesse, contrary to how hard I had worked to cut him out of my life, once and for all. His name was *Dan and he talked to me, day and night, allowed me to hang out with him, and even told me his stories of being depressed after the mother of his child had left him. There was no romance involved whatsoever, he was simply a good person with great intentions. I was happy to have met him.

During this time, Kamron was also texting me, still wanting to hang out. I was in no position to take on a new relationship, and I still thought that that was what he wanted. I confided in Dan about Kamron, and Dan encouraged me to give him a chance. Not romantically, but just to hang out with him, see what his intentions were. What did I even have to lose? So I finally caved and texted Kamron back.

I went to his house and we hung out with his friends, all of them funny and super nice. Again, he told me that he would text me the next day and that we would go fishing. I started looking more and more forward to spending time with Kamron. We had lunch one day and when the waitress asked how to present the check I said “separate” and he looked at me like I was a hillbilly from Hong Kong.

“No, bring me the ticket, please ma’am,” he laughed.

I had not heard anyone outside of my own family talk like that. Nor had another guy paid for my food in God knows how long. When the waitress brought the check, he threw a 20 and a tip into the folder, and helped me out of my seat. This was all somewhat of a culture shock to me. I thanked him over and over, telling him that he didn’t have to pay for my meal and so on. He just laughed at me, he laughed a lot, that was another thing that was new to me.

It was still too early to tell if I liked Kamron, I just knew that he kept my mind off of Jesse, therefore, I liked spending time with him. It was nice to have someone who asked me to hangout, someone who seemed to care about what I was doing and how my day was. It was a breath of fresh air.

My birthday rolled around a few weeks after Jesse and I had had our monumental fight-heard-around-the-world. I was getting my nails done with my mom and I was raving to her about how Kamron had arranged a small birthday dinner for me. She was just over the moon to hear of anyone other than Jesse. As I was waiting for my nails to dry, my phone went off. It was my birthday so I had been getting texts all day. But this text was from an unfamiliar number.

“Happy birthday!” It read.

“Thank you! Who is this, though? I got a new phone.” I replied.

A few moments went by, and my phone dinged again.

“This is Jesse, babe. I love you.”

 

To Be Continued…

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