Everything inside me was screaming to turn around and run. My legs felt heavy and shaky. My gut instinct was screaming at me that I was about to walk into the lion’s den.
I told her I was afraid. I told her that I didn’t want to go in there. She promised me that I wasn’t going to get hurt. For some reason, I uneasily listened to her and followed her into the house.
Stepping inside, I saw him sitting in the chair across the room with a gun in his lap.
Paralyzing fear gripped my heart and my body. The deadly cold expression on his face pierced my soul as he commanded me to sit.
I didn’t know what to do. I was near the door and wanted to run. But I knew I couldn’t outrun his gun. So I complied. I sank with dread into the chair by the door.
He started questioning me about where I went and who I was with. I knew that nothing I could say would appease him.
How do I tell him that I ran away because I was afraid he was going to burn the house down with me in it? Who’s going to stop him from pouring gasoline on the house again? Deep down I knew that no one will ever stop him.
I started to explain that I was at my friend’s house and that her mom had called the police to make sure she wouldn’t get in trouble for allowing a runaway to stay with her….
But I never finished that sentence.
The moment I said the word “police” all hell broke loose as he jumped up with the gun and ran at me.
I have never seen someone move so fast. In half a heartbeat he had me.
In a blinding rage, he pulled me up and out of the chair. Fists, hands and threats rained down on me until I landed on the ground.
Trying to protect my body, I curled up in a ball with my arms shielding my face and my head.
Then I felt his kicks. His steel toed construction boots showed me his power.
Somewhere over his raging voice, I could hear her screaming at him to stop. She was begging him to leave me alone.
I opened my eyes when I heard her. Through the tears and my hair covering my face, I could see her trying to pull him off of me.
It was like a gnat buzzing around an angry giant. It had no impact on him.
At some point I managed to get up and open the door. I started to run out. He grabbed me and pulled me backwards.
My hands instinctively reached out to hold onto the doorframe on each side. I held on for dear life and screamed.
After a few seconds he let go of me. Just as I started to run out the door into the night, with a sliver of hope…
I heard him say behind me, “If you leave, I’ll shoot myself. That will be the last thing you hear of me and you’ll always know that it’s your fault.”
I stopped cold in my tracks. I froze at the thought of him killing himself because of me. That sliver of hope for my freedom, melted away with my tears.
Feeling defeated, I knew that I couldn’t live the rest of my life with the sound of his gun going off, echoing in my head.
I looked down at the ground. One foot was outside in freedom. One foot was in the doorway.
With a heavy sigh, I turned around to go back into the house.
Stepping inside, I saw several clumps of my hair on the ground. Crying, I shakily knelt down to pick them up.
With hand fulls of my long hair, he commanded me to call my friend to tell her I was ok. I didn’t know how I could possibly talk to her at that moment.
But I walked down the hall to the other room with the phone. I took a minute or two to get my tears out. Then I took a few deep breaths to center myself.
Doing my best to pull myself together and trying not to cry again, I dialed her number.
I glanced at the doorway and saw his shadow in the hall. He stood just outside the door, off to the side so that I wouldn’t see him and he was listening to me. I knew that I had to be convincing enough to get her off the phone and for him to leave me alone.
When she answered the phone and expressed her concern for my safety, I was looking at the clumps of hair in my hand, while doing my best to assure her that I was ok.
Inside, I was screaming for help.
But too scared to say it.
After hanging up the phone, I walked into the hall and saw him standing there.
He just stared at me with the look of an aggressive, alpha male who had just won.
I put my head down, walked past him in defeat and went to my room.
………….
Throughout this time of quarantining and social distancing…. I can’t help but think of all the children and adults who are trapped inside with their abusers.
My heart breaks for them.
While I am currently living free from abuse in my home, I will always remember what it feels like to be caged in fear.
This moment of my life, that I just shared with you, is one of many personal examples of my “why.” The reason why I am taking a stand against abuse.
Because at that time, I couldn’t.
It took me many years, many counseling sessions, many support group sessions, many martial art classes with literally bruises, blood, sweat and tears, just to get to this point today.
But I made it! And so can you.
Strength doesn’t happen overnight.
Strength is made up of thousands of little baby steps of courage.
Courage is being afraid and doing it anyway.
I’ve been afraid every step of the way. I still am.
But I keep my eyes on my goals and my mission. And then I move forward. One, slow, small step at a time.
Time is passing by, no matter what I choose to do.
And I do have a choice.
Stay where I am at, stuck in my fears….
Or move forward, leaning into the uncomfortable, while being afraid but doing it anyways.
Either way, I am afraid.
So I choose to step into the fear of the unknown, with the intention of growing and healing.
Doing whatever I can that will benefit my life, so that I can live in freedom with a healed heart.
It is I who holds the key to my cage.
I choose to open the door and step out.
What do you choose?
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