This morning I awoke with a start, terror coursing through my veins. “Your safe now”, I tried to convince myself as the nightmare replayed in my mind. I wanted to shut it off, but the sheer horror made my heart race, as the thoughts, “We are going to die, he’s going to kill us, I have to escape!”, kept racing through my mind. I forced myself to wake up more, assuring my pounding heart that it is over now, We survived, and Im ok.
The reason for the nightmare was that on this date in history, the nightmare was real and my body recalls it so vividly, that despite the truths I’ve told myself, the trauma remains for the time being.
December 3rd, 2004 began like most any other day with one exception. Once my husband had left for work, I curled up with a curious book. It has mysteriously been placed on my doorstep two days prior, wrapped in brown paper, with no note to explain who had placed it there.
It was titled, “When Love Hurts”. I read it with awe and trembling as it described what Abuse Is. For so long I had convinced myself that everything was ok, even though it was far from ok. My husband’s violent rages were becoming a daily occurrence. All of my freedoms were being stripped away. I wasn't permitted to speak to anyone, even on the phone without him listening and approving. I couldn't even check the mail, or drive to the store. The consequences of breaking an unspoken rule were terrifying. My empty womb, a painful reminder that he could take anything from me, If I wasn't perfect enough, or submissive enough. I would have been 38 weeks pregnant by now if only I hadn't made him so angry, I mused.
Now as I read this book that mysteriously appeared, it explained that everything I had survived, was abuse, it was wrong. He didn't have the right to hurt me, to treat me with disdain, to rape me, to smash my head, or suffocate me until I passed out. It told stories of other women facing much less and I was in awe, as it described the terror that each day held for me and yet called it abuse.
I was trying to be whole, trying to be the best wife I could be. I had confided in a lay counselor friend a few days prior, secretly telling her about his rages and how I would curl up in a ball, trying to protect my head. Her response had been this. “ You are feeding the monster. He wants you to cower so he feels big. You are making it worse. Next time he rages at you stand tall, don't show your fear, and speak truths to yourself. Use I statements and it will be fine.“
He would be home by 3, I thought as I glanced nervously at the clock. Today I would be stronger, I would stand up and not be a part of the problem, I decided. I continued to read the book as it explained, what to do if your life is in danger. It told me how to secretly pack in a way he wouldn't see, and how to escape with my life. I prayed that wouldn't be my reality, after all, I mused, I was the problem not him, right? Maybe today, standing up and speaking truths would make things different. I hoped.
3 o'clock, I kept reminding myself, I have the house perfect, dinner already prepared and the kids busy away where he won't see them when he walks in, …just in case. I started making some stew, and while it simmered away on the stove, I thought, “I’ll just check my email. It was my last freedom, a place I could open my heart and now be censored or controlled. I hopped up from the computer for a quick second to stir my pot, making sure nothing burnt. Just at that moment, Bill walked into the house.
I could sense the air shift as he came in, almost as if the oxygen was sucked out of the room and what was left was a thick choking fog. He was early, I wasn't ready for him. Panic made it hard to breathe. You are early, I thought, but the words wouldn’t come.
He glanced at me, seeing the fear I was doing so poorly to conceal, as I noticed my open email. His eyes followed mine to the open screen, where my heart lay bare on the page. Within seconds his rage was that of a roaring monster.
Please, I begged, please don't take this away from me? What had I done? He could see everything! While I never told a soul what was really going on, I expressed fear of what my husband might do to me. He started reading emails out loud, his fury growing with each word.
You little #@$#@$$ he’d scream. How dare you open your @#$# mouth. He screamed.
I tried to calm my pounding heart. I had to get this right. Use “I” statements, and don't cower. I reminded myself.
Shakingly, I tried to say “ I feel worthless when you speak to me like that.”
His eyes, narrowed with contempt as if to say “ How dare you to defend yourself!” You ARE a worthless piece of @##$ He bellowed, grabbing the chair from the table and hurling it at me with more expletives spewing from his mouth.
I ducked, and the chair, missed my head, landing on its side behind me. “Don’t cower” I ordered myself, “you are the problem, stand tall, and don't feed the monster” I silently coached myself. I moved closer to my pot and began to stir furiously, not looking up as the rage built.
“I am a highly loved daughter of the most high God”, I silently repeated over and over. While my heart didn't believe it for a second, those were the words that my son’s teacher kept speaking over me. I knew, I was meant to believe it, if I was a good Christian and had faith like I was supposed to.
Bill continued to rage, pounding his fist on the table. I continued to stir, hoping this new tactic would work but it seemed to make him angrier than ever. Just then, I heard Jeremy’s little feet skitter down the stairs. "Oh no, no, no", I thought, I didn't have a chance to make sure the kids didn't hear, didn't see. It was too late to try to put them in their rooms, Bill stood between Jeremy and I. Jeremy’s sweet little face was etched with fear with eyes as wide as saucers, He looked at me as if to ask if I was ok.
Bill saw my fear for Jeremy and before I could blink away my tears, the unthinkable happened. All of his anger and fury became focused on the tiny little boy in front of him.
“ We are going to go play smash-up cars”, he jeered in a sickening tone. “You will never see him alive again.” he taunted, "This is what you have done!" He continued as he pulled Jeremy by the arm, leading him abruptly out the front door.
My body felt like a dead weight, I needed to move, needed to stop him. Hysterically, I screamed, "No, no, no Im sorry. Please don't kill him, please no!". Seconds later, the van squealed out of the driveway and down the road. “What have I done, I wept, He’s going to die, and it's all my fault." I wanted to do something, anything, but I stood frozen in place staring towards the empty road where the van had disappeared around the corner.
Moments later, the phone rang. It was Darlene, Jeremy’s teacher. "He’s going to kill him," I sobbed hysterically, “What have I done, he’s going to kill him”.
“You need to leave, now”, she said, “you have to get away, or you could all die.”
“ I cant”, I wailed. “I need to wait to see if Jeremy survives”.
“Ok then”, she answered, “Tonight, you need to leave tonight, when he’s sleeping.” She went on to explain that her husband had come to her two days prior with the strangest comment. He had said, if ever there was someone who was in danger and needed a place to go, we should take them in. She said she was so taken aback by his comment, as it was completely out of character. When she asked him where this came from he answered that he felt God was telling him to do this.
She assured me, God’s already made her husband's heart ready to help us, so I should trust God was in this.
Tonight would be the night. IF… Jeremy survived.
I didn't think to call anyone for help, I didn't think at all…. I panicked, wept, and stared aimlessly out the window like a hopeless child.
Hours later, my traumatized little boy walked in the front door. His joyful spirit was deflated as if the child I’d known had completely disappeared and was replaced with an empty terrorized shell. The sparkle was gone from his eye, and in its place as a dark emptiness that broke my heart.
BIll laughed at my obvious distress as I scooped up Jeremy in my arms. He turned and went to go play video games with a bottle of coke in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.
I took Jeremy upstairs and held him,still weeping, telling him how sorry I was, and how much I loved him.
“That wasn't right what Daddy did, Im so sorry!” I wept as he clung tightly to my neck
He tearfully told me how Bill had driven for seven blocks down King George Hwy on the wrong side of the road, playing chicken with traffic, then had pulled over into 7 eleven. He said he sat quietly for a long time then said, “ Im not really going to kill you. But I want to make sure that your mom thinks I might have, so we are going to sit for a while and make her good and scared.”
Looking at my tender-hearted 7 yr old, my heart burned with fury over his trauma. It was one thing for Bill to hurt me, but to threaten to kill his own little boy, this was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I won't let him hurt my kids, I silently fumed, with terror still racing in my bones. I knew the consequences of breaking rules, If I didn't do this right, His countless threats of killing me and the kids may come to pass. He had already suffocated me, to the point that I’d lost consciousness, he’d already cost me the life of our baby, I knew he wouldn't stop there.
The words of the mysterious book kept playing in my head. I had to escape, carefully, with such care that I don't risk anyone’s life this time. I busied myself around the house as if I was doing laundry. I carefully packed a single change of clothing for each of the kids, I put Elisa’s clothes on the top then placed the pile neatly in her drawer as if it were all her laundry
He watched me intently any time I entered the room but then continued to play his video games. I carefully packed the kid's school books, as if preparing for another day of homeschooling. I hid my wallet, and cell phone in the school things so he wouldn't see my purse get moved.
Finally, at 6:30 in the morning, he went to bed. I made a single call, as planned, and within moments three ladies appeared at my house. Adrenaline coursed through my body as they helped me sneak the kids out of their beds fearing the worse. I grabbed the tub of school books and scooped up the pile of clothes from Elisa’s drawer, and ran out of the house. The ladies had already come up with a plan. They split the kids up and myself into different vehicles and drove in three different directions just in case he saw anyone leave and followed.
Confused I asked my friend, how did these ladies know? She explained that she called the children’s pastor of our church, But the children’s pastor wasn't surprised in fact, she has been sleeping with her phone for three days after the Lord told her to be ready to help rescue us. God has prepared her, and she has gotten another friend of mine to help.
We escaped. My son’s teacher hid us away.
I was a shell of a woman, so confused and ashamed by everything. I recall Darlene pulling some chicken out of her freezer to make us dinner. The price tag read $7.55. I kept thinking, Im not worth that. Every pore of my being was in revolt with shame, feeling like it was the crime of the century to accept a meal made of chicken that cost $7.55. I tried to give her the last $20 I had, the only money I had.
At that moment, I knew we didn't even have clean underwear for the week, and I most certainly didn't have a place to go, let alone presents for Christmas which was three weeks away. I had nothing physical, but what I did have was a God who was in the details.
He sent the mysterious book. I later connected with the author who told me that it wasn't in stores until several months later. She didn't know who had gotten a copy or how it got to me. No one could answer that mystery, but it helped save our lives that day,
God had prepared a place for us to run to. God has prepared ladies to help us escape, all unbeknownst to me. God had stopped Bill from further harming Jeremy,(although I wasn't able to see that yet)
Jeremy was severely traumatized that day. In the weeks and months that followed he would be found curled up, hiding or staring out the window, voicing suicidal thoughts, based on his Dad’s threat to kill him. One day he even said,” I think dad didn't kill me because he paid too much for the van and didn't want to waste his money., maybe if it was a cheaper car I’d be dead.”
The trauma we each carry from this piece of the story is significant, but one truth remains.. God was there in the details. He was instrumental in rescuing us. I believe with all my heart, that had God not set a plan in motion, we wouldn't have survived, because it had gotten THAT bad. But God was, and is…… so today as im shaken with emotional flashbacks, nightmares, and memories that make me tremble, I also thank God for being there, in the midst, and giving us a way out.
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