When I met my ex I had a few men who were good friends. One was my best friend. We’d never dated, but he was awesome. Carmen and I hung out, usually in a group setting. Our friendship was nothing to be jealous of. We didn’t flirt with each other nor were we touchy feely.
I asked Carmen to be my son’s godfather.
One day Carmen showed up on my doorstep. The shades were drawn and the house relatively dark, because my son was napping. The ex peeked out the window and warned me not to answer the door. I was baffled. Why couldn’t I answer the door to my best friend? Well, simply put, my ex didn’t want me to be friends with him any longer. To say I was disappointed and confused is an understatement.
I went upstairs to get away from him because I was pissed. Eventually Carmen left, knowing I was inside, but not knowing why I ignored him.
I was in my room when the ex, came in and grabbed me by the hair. He pulled me down on the bed and started ripping off my clothes. He kept saying things like you want him to F*ck you? I’ll give you want you want. I begged him to stop. I didn’t want to have sex with him. I was mad at this man. He didn’t care. He took what he wanted, roughly. He’d slapped me a few times, continued to pull my hair and raped me.
This was only a glimpse to what I would endure. Had I known it was only the beginning. You see, I was a twenty year old girl with a small baby. I lived on my own and really was insecure. He fed off that insecurity. He knew how to strip away my self-esteem.
BTW, Carmen never stood up to be my son’s godfather. My ex wouldn’t allow it.
I know what you’re thinking. How did I stay? I was a different person back then. I’d never allow it now.
Tomorrow I’ll share yet another day of violence.