The Monster Within, a Story of Abuse

Charlee Felice By Charlee Felice, 11th Aug 2014 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Family>Domestic Violence & Abuse

True Story of an abuser, his behavior, and his violent temper. A story that should never be told.

When you look in my eyes, what do you see? A monster, a monster that is inside of me!!!

I remember getting a call from my friend. She says, “I have a date, but I am scared to go alone. Would you go with me as a chaperone?” I laughed so hard, that my ribs started to hurt. My friend was amused by my laughter, and says “no, seriously, please go with me on this date.” So, I agreed. Let me explain, OK? My friend was from Central America. She was a student with me at the University, and was staying with my parents. She was old fashioned and thought it wrong to meet a man alone. Against my will, but I went with her to make sure she was safe. Well, that’s the irony of the story.

While at the restaurant/bar, this unknown guy approaches me and asks me to dance. I politely decline, but he continues to insist. I explained to him that I was not interested and declined again. He insisted again, and I declined a third time. This happened in the early eighties, not many Spanish speaking persons where in the area, so when the young man left, I proceeded to speak to my friend in Spanish. I said, “Who does this guy think he is, just kept on insisting so arrogantly”. To my surprise, he turns around, and addresses me in Spanish. Yes, I died of embarrassment. At the moment, the embarrassment was the ticket he needed to get me to dance with him.

Turned out that he was handsome, charming, military, and with a great head on his shoulders. I agreed to exchange numbers with him. The next few weeks we flirted, dated and realized we were good together. My family and friends fell in love with him. All I could hear was, “oh my, he is so handsome”, “he is a great catch”, “he is so polite”, even my mother was all over me about him.

The flirting turned into romance and the romance into engagement and before I knew it we were married. So far, it sounds like a fairy tale. I have to say that he was a great provider, and paid attention to every small detail. The first year of marriage was good. He would get me roses, gifts, was romantic, spent time with me. I felt like a princess, for as such he treated me.

Well, as I mentioned, he was military, and soon was deployed to the Mediterranean. He was gone 6 months. I received a letter each day he was gone, and vice-versa. While he was on tour, I gave birth to our son. I sent a message through Red Cross, and he managed to call from the ship through radio aficionado, and relayed a call to the hospital. It was a very emotional call. He seemed the same, so happy to be a father, but sorry to be so far away. Needless to say, he finally met our son 2 months later.

Welcome Home Daddy, Soldier!!! What a great reunion. I had never seen him so proud and so happy. The next day, reality hit. He was uptight, upset, and just plain grumpy. I figured it was the flight, the stress and the reality of our new life. Something was different. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but he seemed different. No problem, he will be back to himself in a few days. So I thought. The next few weeks were good. He seemed to get back into his life at home and was happy to get his new shore assignment. We made preparations and moved to his new location. The new location was several states away. My parents were no longer close, nor were his. It was just the baby and us. We settled into our new home. It was great. We painted walls, bought furniture, decorated and made the house our home. It felt like a family. By this time we had been married a few years and still in love. All was good.

The Holiday season was upon us and we had just had a wonderful Christmas. For New Years, we decided to go out and celebrate. I went shopping and bought a great outfit. I was dressed and ready to go, and so was he. He was so handsomely dressed. He brought out a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses and wanted to make a toast. When he went to hand me the glass I tripped and hit the glass. It spilled everywhere including his shirt and face. His face turned red, he was furious. I had never seen him like that. Then BOOOM, I felt his hand go across my face. I reacted and hit him back on the chest. I said, “What was that for”. That was the wrong question to ask. He started yelling really loudly. I was so scared, and then he hit me again. I started running away from him. He started chasing me. He caught up to me. I screamed. I ran towards the front door, but he was faster than me and was able to get to the door before me and stood in front of it. I turned around, and ran to the stairs. I managed to get to the top, but he was too fast and caught up to me again. Oh no, please, I was thinking to myself. What is wrong with him?

It seemed as if a switch had been flipped and he was someone else. His face looked mean, disfigured. Fury was coming out of his eyes. I was so scared. All I could do was scream and run. That made him angrier. That is when the big blow hit me. Everything became black, and I fell to the ground. I stayed there. I dare not move. I just started to cry, quiet teary sobs. “I am so sorry”, is all I could say.

For the next few minutes he was quiet. He stopped yelling, he stopped moving. Then he turns to me and says, “What have I done? I couldn’t control myself “. He apologized and started crying. “What’s wrong with me? Why couldn’t I control myself? Please, forgive me, don’t leave me”. So I turned to him and started consoling him. I had never seen him act this way, crazy, angry, uncontrolled. That night, we didn’t celebrate the New Year, but we did begin a new life, with a new unknown that would become the norm in our lives.

The scene above repeated itself in many other instances. The frequency of the anger explosions increased. Neighbors called the police many times. When they arrived at our door, they would see me bleeding, with ripped clothes, red eyes, scratched legs and badly hurt. The laws then did not protect women. They would offer for me to leave the home, without my son. They always said that since they did not witness the events, as far as they could tell, I was doing it to myself. The abuse increased from open hand to close fist, then escalated to dragging me through the house and down the stairs. At one point, I counted my bruises on one leg. There were 17 bruises. I wore long pants and long sleeves. Changed my haircut to bear bangs, and wore heavy y makeup to hide the black eyes.

I was only allowed to go to work and drive straight home. He would time me. I had to call him when I left work and he would wait for me at the door. I was allowed extra time on the days I picked up our son from daycare. The violent attacks were now more intense. The apologies continued. He says he was blacking out and could not control himself. Many times he said he couldn’t remember what he had done. I was alone. I was scared and no way out. On the days I did not work, he would take the keys, my purse, and any money I had access to, so I wouldn’t leave while he was out. He even went to the extent to take all my shoes so I couldn’t leave walking. Oh My!!! How I am going to get out of this.

The break finally came. He was being deployed again. So, I spoke to him. I presented a logical plan. I knew he was possessive, jealous and loved to save money. I proposed that all our possessions be placed in storage and that I should go back to my parents and live with them while he was gone for 6 months. He loved the plan and agreed. So, when he was deployed I moved in with my parents. I found 2 jobs. I worked 70 hours a week. My parents watched the baby. I saved all the money I made, and hired a lawyer. By the time he came back from deployment, he had been served with divorce papers, I had my own apartment and had moved on with my life, or so I thought.

I arrived home after work. When I opened the door, I was surprised by my husband. He was sitting on my couch. I asked him how he got in, and he said the Apartment Manager had given him keys to the apartment and added his name to the lease. I couldn’t believe it. He said to me since we were still legally married, that he had to right to anything I had. I called my parents, packed a bag for my son and one for me and went back to their house. I wasn’t safe. I couldn’t get away from this man. No laws to protect me, no one to stand up for me.

The story continued for many more years. Where ever I went there he was. I never had peace again for a very long time. Our divorce was final months later. The court evicted him from “my” apartment and it was given back to me. My brother had to relocate to live with me. It was the only way to keep my now ex-husband from continuously breaking into my apartment. The break- in’s, harassment and continuous surveillance of my activities by him became the norm. My life was chaos. He then proceeded to continuously take me to court for child custody, visitations, arrangements and child support.

There came a point in my life, where I figured an abuser always has some control over our mind, heart and soul, even if we go on with our lives. In my story, he finally meets another woman, falls in love, and gets married again. The sad part is the cycle that ended with me began with her. To this day, I have emotional issues that are triggered by the mention of his name. I have heard many times people say, “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger”. If they only knew how right they are.

The inner strength I gained from this experience has made me who I am today. I am successful. I am accomplished. I am independent. I am no longer abused, nor controlled physically, or emotionally. When all seems impossible, the possible happens. When all hope is gone, a little ray of sunshine comes through. When discouraged, I lift up my eyes to the blue sky, and know that beauty surrounds us. I, also, learned that somewhere in my heart is where strength, hope, possibilities and courage resides.

When you look in my eyes, what do you see? The beauty, the beauty that’s inside of me!!!


Abuse And Violence In The Home, Abused Wife, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse Story, Domestic Violence

Meet the author

author avatar Charlee Felice
Write to love, love to write.
A bit of this and a tad of that. However, inspiration, love, relationships, and health are my best topics.

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