The Choice (a Painful Past)

77

I knew that he would cheat on me, steal from me and my family, make me insane, and do his drugs. I knew all of this, so I couldn't be surprised by it. It was just the old familiar pain that I had to deal with.

I didn't want any new pain. There was also the confrontational part. I picked my battles with him, in the beginning.

Then, I just got tired. I was so fucking tired of fighting, or dealing with the bullshit. I didn't care anymore.

When I found messages to or from other women, I asked him about it, listened to his bullshit lie, and let it go. When I found a meth pipe in our room, I crushed it under the heel of my boot, screamed at him, and listened to his excuse. That one took me a little longer to let go, because it endangered Ben, in my eyes.

Most of the time though, I was just numb. The only joy or happiness that I felt was when I was watching Ben laugh with his friends, or taking him out to spend time with him.

I had this automatic switch inside of me now. Whenever I was around Will, I turned the switch off. When he wanted sex, I turned the switch off. When he would come home, completely blitzed out of his fucking mind, I turned the switch off. When my mom or brother came to me to bitch about him, I turned the switch off.

Eventually, it just stayed off. I became a robot, barely surviving, as I made my way through the motions of my everyday life. Sometimes, I didn't even want to be alive.

What was the point? I had lost myself. I didn't know who I was anymore.

That 16 year old girl that I once was no longer existed. She, who had once been so full of life, excited about graduating with her friends, excited about going to college and living in a dorm room with her cousin, was dead. I needed to connect with her, but I didn't know how to find her.

Maybe...I jumped up from my chair, leaving the kids to play their game, and darted to my room. It didn't look like my room anymore. You could only see little pieces to prove that I slept in here.

Like the water bottle on my side of the bed, or the books on the bedside table. Everything else was Will. He painted it, hung his hats around the room, replaced my stereo with his after he sold mine, and everything else about this room was his.

I slung the closet open, where most of my old stuff was, and started to dig through the bags in the back. I found the bag of notes that I was looking for and the black notebook full of Derek's drawings that he had done for me, and the poems that I had written. Maybe these could help me find who I used to be!

First, I went through all of the old handwritten notes that my friends and I used to pass between classes. I had ones from Sherri, Kat, Charlotte, Johnny, Derek, and even my old friend Chris. There had to be at least a hundred letters here.

I smiled, as I read through them, remembering the emotions that we had when we talked about how much we loved these guys, or what a bitch that girl was, or even the party that we would be going to that weekend. The old me stirred a little bit, giving me a slightly happy, but mostly lost feeling.

When I was finished reading them all, I opened the black notebook. I gasped with what I found. Absolutely nothing. It was all gone.

Every drawing that Derek had done for me and every poem that I had written when I was in high school was gone. I could see the ripped pieces of paper still stuck in the thick rings of the binder, where someone had haphazardly ripped them out. I sat there, on my knees, just inside the closet, staring down at the empty binder resting in my lap.

I was so stunned that I just froze.

How long had they been gone? I didn't have to question who had done it. I knew.

Will had always hated any guy that I had a crush on in the past. Even today, he didn't want to hear me mention Derek or Johnny. I knew he had stolen my memories that had been in this binder.

What had he done with them?

Just ripped them up and thrown them away?

Or had he gone the extra mile, and burned them? Pain and rage filled my soul again, but I knew what would happen. I would question him about it, and he would deny knowing anything.

Since I had no proof, what could I really say or do? Nothing. So, I would let it go.

I keep saying that, but I don't think I ever really let anything go. I just pushed it down, buried it way down, so that I could ignore it, and hope that it just went away.

I threw the bag of notes back into the closet and hid them under an old blanket, then set the black notebook on the foot of my bed. Even though I knew what was going to happen, I was still going to ask. I always had a feeling when he was lying to me, so I would, at least, know for sure.

Denise told me that she thought I was an empath, but I shook my head.

"No, I just have a built in bullshit detector when it comes to Will." I had replied.

I was proud of Denise. She had been in the same situation that I was in. She was stuck in this relationship that she was no longer happy in.

She had been with the guy, who she was engaged to, just like Will and I were engaged, for a little over 8 years. She was just going through the motions, incredibly unhappy, until one day, she had enough. She left him.

Just packed up her shit, told him bye, and called me to come get her. She didn't have anywhere to stay or any money in her pocket, but she still did it.

I offered to let her stay at my house for a few nights, but she declined.

"Nah, I'd honestly probably fight Will and I know you don't need that bullshit. I'll probably go stay with Mikie's (her ex) cousin, Margie, until I can get on my feet."

I nodded, knowing she was probably right, but hating it, nonetheless.

This happened 4 months ago. Since then, she had found a job and rented a small apartment and I had been trying to get the courage up to tell Will to get out. I wasn't scared of him hitting me.

He had never laid his hands on me, not since the incident with the belt, but I just didn't want to hurt him.