That was my first time. Forced on my best friends bed, who I wasn't aloud to see anymore. Now you'd think, why the hell did you stay with him? And let me tell you, I used to think the same thing whenever I'd hear people talking about abuse, I'd think, 'wow, why the hell don't you run? Tell someone? Get some help?' Then I realized, hearing about it, and experiencing it, are two very different things. It's about fear. Well at least mine was. Have you ever been afraid to get up in the morning, to fall asleep, of the next second not knowing what it was going to bring you? I was. I was so scared. And it wasn't just the physical and mental abuse from Mike that made me scared. It was my illness. Not knowing what was going on inside my body. Not being able to control any part of it. Before Mike, after I was diagnosed I controlled every part of my life to a T. Because if I couldn't control my own body, I was sure as hell going to control something. But Mike got to me. He threatened me, and those I loved. If the only way you can protect the ones you love is to stay in this type of relationship, if that's the only way you can show you care, even if they don't know it, wouldn't you take it how you could? Fuck my life, it's already ruined, he ruined me, the constant cocktail of medicines in me ruined the inside, he ruined everything else. So I'll do what I can.
That was my thought process, but only a part of it. That was how I justified it. Which is partly true. If it was all true then at least I'd have a little bit of that control over my life again. In reality, I had no choice. He called, I went. End of question.
Control. Something so simple that people take for granted, something as small as picking out a pair of sunglasses. Or choosing to stay at someone's house or going to bed early. The small, the big, all of it was put to a stop. He chose everything for me physically and mentally, and then my illness controlled everything else. I have to be ready for anything. One day without my medicines and my body starts attacking me all over again. Everything always attacking me. I don't understand why. I must have done something severely messed up in another life to deserve this.
Senior year was particularly bad. All the parties doubled. Which Mike was always worse when he was drunk. But then to top it off he would pass me around. Yeah, I mean exactly what I said. I was passed around from friend to friend during parties like a mixed drink. They all forced themselves on me. They all rapped me. What the hell do you do when Mike is there, holding a knife to your throat while one of his friends if forcing his way with you? What kind of fucked up shit is that? Simple. My life. Eventually Mike didn't have to be there when his friends had their way with me. He knew I was to scared to go against him. Most of his friends stayed blissfully unaware of what was going on, they just to turn the other way. Not get involved. Or think it was some kind of sick foreplay with us. But one guy, started showing up to these parties. I don't know where he came from, but every party he would show up. He knew what Mike was doing to me. And he got off on it. He would get Mike drunk so that Mike would let him have me. The only thing I knew about this man, was his name. His name was James, and that name will forever stay with me. He got off on the fact that he could hurt me. Like raping someone without the consequences. He would cut me and hit me and tie me up. Every party he would think of some new way to torture me while having sex with me. No one ever stopped him. It went on for over a year. Until the day I finally had something else to make me stand up for myself. I'll explain later.
Jake and the rest of the LaPush gang would try and try to keep seeing me. They would show up unannounced to my house or school, trying to surprise me, hoping I'd be free to hang out. Each and every time, I got hit harder. Eventually everyone stopped trying, except Jacob. He'd come solo. He never quit. But he didn't know, that when he would show up, Mike blamed me and beat me so much worse. Broken bones hurt, they do, for anyone. But then you get them set and they slowly start to heal, and the pain fades. Broken bones with arthritis, that don't get set properly? Un imaginable pain. You get cold sweat and pass out every time you move. Throw up everything in your stomach from the pain. I can't even describe it, I don't know anything equivalent to it. When I have a bad flair up, it feels like the bone is broken. And that's normal. Mike knew this. He also knew that it would get obvious if he continued to break my bones, like he broke the rest of me. So he saved it for special occasions. Like when Jacob shows up. Depending on how long it took Jacob to leave was the severity of what he broke. He eventually started re setting them himself, a day or two after it happened. It was like the exclamation mark at the end of his statement. The first break was don't talk to Jacob, stay away from him. When he 'fixed' the bone by re breaking it then aligning it, it was, Ever. My Jacob was so close, all the time. But I knew that Mike and his friends would go after him if he found out. And I couldn't have that. He was not going to get hurt because of me.
This was routine. It was my life. I adapted, learned to separate my mind from my body when I was with anyone. I concentrated on school work when Mike wasn't around. He hated when I got ahead, or did better than him. He wanted me to fail. But school was my one escape. So I didn't my best. But I kept that from him. I didn't let him know how well I was doing. But then, at the end of first quarter, I was told I was going to graduate early. That after first semester was done, so was I. I was so happy. I thought that this was my escape. I wouldn't tell Mike, then while he was at school, I would leave. Find a job somewhere and get an apartment. Away from my mom and dad, so that way Mike wouldn't hurt them for knowing information. Because they would have no one to get information from if I had no one. I had everything all planned. I decided I was going to go to Ohio. I searched for apartments and called around. I set of meetings with landlords and interviews with different jobs. My time was coming. And I couldn't be any happier if I tried.
But then, like everything else. My escape came tumbling down. I got sick. So sick. It started off with a sinus infection, it stayed with me for two months and I had a constant sinus headache. Finally after two months it got so bad I was practically screaming, trying to get it to go away, were this logic comes from I don't know. So my dad rushed me to the doctor and they rushed me to the hospital where they gave me some IV meds to help with the headache. Let me tell you, they did not. I was crying constantly, but trying not to, because it just made my head hurt worse, and no one would listen to me. Nurses and doctors won't even give me some fucking control. They sent me home after the IV that didn't do anything. That night I couldn't go to sleep because of the pain, and by the next morning it had migrated to my left ear. I got rushed to the doctor again, and then the hospital again, and I was put in Isolation, but one of those clear rooms so they can see you, for 24 hours, then I was admitted.
I was put in the hospital for two weeks. I don't remember much of what happened during the first week. Just what I was told. To me it was just dark. During the first week I was a day away from dieing. They didn't think I was going to make it. I was in this catatonic state. I don't remember much. I didn't eat, or drink. I didn't move. I didn't talk. I just laid there in the dark. I was so sick. The only thing I really rememeber of my time there is Mike being there the whole time, and darkness. Mike was always there, to make sure I didn't say anything. And he always talked too loud, to where it broke through my subconscious darkness. He did whatever he could to get my attention. Even forcing himself on me when we were alone. The doctors talked about feeding tubes and a bone marrow biopsy. To see why I barley had any White blood cells, and was losing more every day. They were giving me 48 hours for my White Blood Cell count to come back up, and if it didn't, they were going to have to do the biopsy. They didn't think it looked good. I was given 24 hours to eat as well, or they were going to give me a feeding tube. After that, I slowly started gaining consciousness. It took me 8 hours to eat half a piece of toast. But the doctors said that it was enough and as long as I tried I was good.
What was wrong was that I had a sinus infection that moved to my ear. And there was all this pressure built up behind my ear drum trying to drain naturally, but it didn't. And it hurt like hell. All of the infection just kept piling up and piling up. Unbelievable pressure. You don't think much about something as small as your ear drum, until something like this happens. I was praying for it to burst. At least then I'd get some relief. But of course it didn't. They waited for a week while I was in the hospital to see if the antibiotics would help. I started getting this sinus infection two months ago. And it just kept getting worse and worse, so they wanted to wait one more week? Where did that make sense? Eventually they poked a hole in my eardrum, minus some numbing cream. Let me tell you, that did not feel good. But my ear still wouldn't drain, so they put a tub in and kept me pumping with antibiotics. Slowly I started to drain. And I do mean slowly. It was a long painful process.
Most of my family ended up coming to stay at my dad's or near their during this first week. When I started to gain more consciousness they slowly went home with promises of phone calls. By the end of the week I was discharged, but I could barely move, my equal Librium was so off I kept falling down and I was constantly dizzy and I was so sick every time I tried to move. I had the worst headache that just wouldn't go away. The day after I was discharged I had an appointment with ENT and he re admitted me. I was at the hospital for another week, but this time I was coherent. I wish I wasn't. Mike made a pointed comment about school and how I'm going to fail out; the jerk even had a smirk on his face. Then my dad looked over to him and said that wouldn't be happening because I graduated early. My dad was so proud, Mike was so pissed. They ended up putting a PICC line in my arm at the end of the second week so that I could do my IV antibiotics at home.
The months following that were horrible. I found out that I was permanently deaf in my left ear. And I was put on more meds because they didn't want to give me my IV treatments for a while, they didn't want to knock down my system anymore than it already was. My dad was watching me closely, and Mike knew something was up. He didn't hit me until the PICC line was out, because I had a nurse coming in weekly to change the dressing. But then he let me have it. He hit me for not telling him I graduated, he hit me for getting sick, he hit me for making him look bad, he hit me for being smart, he hit me for who I was.
Mike didn't let me out of his site, and when he went to school, he called James to watch the house. He never entered. He watched. Leaving me with the dread of when he would come to my front door, I was so scared, and he knew it.
I never got to leave. Never got my way out. Never made it to my interviews in Ohio.
But I did get something.
I got my chance, it was scary as hell but I took it. And I did it.
I took control of my life.
The end of my senior year, after I walked, Mike announced that we were moving in together. What choice did I have? So I moved in with him. It was horrible. Beatings every night. Him screaming at me because I wasn't good enough. Him having his way with my dead body. Every day. A new routine was set.
He signed a six month lease on his apartment, because he wanted a house. He said that he was saving up so that he could get a house so that when he hit me he could make me scream. I was terrified the closer it got to six months.
I was even more stressed, and slept even worse than I normally do. I was sick to my stomach every day. I was exhausted more so than normal.
Then finally, at month five months, I had an epiphany. I was on the depo shot, but I did realize, until month five, that I didn't get my shot the whole time I was living with Mike. That the last time I had it was right before I got sick. I ran to the store, bought a test and took it in the bathroom. There was no way I wanted to leave the evidence in his apartment. I waited three minutes. The longest three minutes I have ever experienced. What was I going to do? How was I going to bring a baby up in this life that I supposedly live? I couldn't. What was I going to do? What would Mike do? Oh god. I know what he would do. What am I going to do?! My mind was on repeat. Finally three minutes were up and I looked down at those two little sticks that were going to be my future.
What am I going to do?
I made an appointment in the city, so that the gossip wouldn't get to Mike, for the next day. I needed to know for sure. Waiting for that appointment was even worse than waiting the tree minutes. But this time, I planned.
Mike would not touch MY baby.
I was going to do whatever I could to save MY baby. My mind broke out of that constant fog I've been in sense I moved in with my dad, and I planned everything.
The next day It was confirmed, I was pregnant. The doctor gave me some pamphlets about options. Ha, like I need those, I already figured out MY options for MY baby. It's MY life and I'm done.
I had one month left in this hell hole. I would not be going to the house with Mike.
So I did the only thing I could.
I called Jacob.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. My life has been crazy with school and my new job. But I'm back!
So let me know how I'm doing. This is my first as I've said, and apparently I'm one of those FanFiction virgins who babble after their first time.
Any who, I apologize again for the wait, and I hope you liked it.
Comments are always appreciated. Even the bad.