I want to tell my story. I'm not sure why I want to tell it, just that I do. Maybe it will help me finally get on with my life. To realize that I have now made the right decision, and that it wasn't my fault. I really want to feel that it wasn't my fault.

I am married to a great loving and wonderful husband. We have two great kids. Arielle who is 6, from my previous marriage, and Ayden who is 1, from my present marriage. The problems in my life now, I believe have to do with the experiences of my first marriage. Maybe not, maybe thats just what I want to think. Sometimes I wonder if I just wasn't "pushing his buttons." And yet in the back of my mind I know he was the one that made the marriage violent and a failure.

I was married when I was nineteen. To a monster in disguise. When I met Duke he was everything I was searching for. He promised to always be there for me, take care of me, he bought me anything that was remotely romantic. When he was away from me, he would call me almost as soon as he left to tell me that he was thinking of me, and that he missed me. He wanted to get married almost immediately. He said he just loved me so much, that nothing could keep him from spending the rest of his life with me. I to wanted to fairy tale that every little girl dreams of. And to me this was going to be it. I accepted and we were married.

Almost immediately the violence showed up. His caring tendencys turned into obsessive, controlling behavior. The first violent episode was when he accused me of still being in love with an ex. It escalated, and I ended up running down the hallway from him. He gave me a shove and I fell, my head went through the wall. Once I got up, we continued to fight, I told him he was crazy. He asked me if I wanted to see crazy, and continued to smash his fist through a humidifier sitting on the floor. The fight finally ended. With me amazed that he could be so violent, but beliving what he told me, that if I wouldn't have ran from him none of that stuff would have happened. And that he only got upset, because the thought of losing this special love that we found in each other drives him crazy. He didn't know what he would do without me. He would be lost. I meant everything to him. The next day a arrangement of flowers arrived, stating "I love you, I'm sorry."

I can't quite remember the next episode. They all seem to run together after that. I remember more and more incidences of controlling, jealousy, and accusations. He always thought that I was going to leave him, or that I was thinking of it. He was always right. He accused his friends of looking at me in a sexual way. And any man that so much as said hello to me he said had alterior motives. He wanted everyone to know that he owned me. That I was his wife. And yet he cut me down to them every chance he got. I think now, that he did this so that they would think I was this awful person and not want me. Therefore alienating me from everyone. He would have to know everywhere that I went. And question me as to who I seen and what happened. He never seemed to believe me when I said nothing. And soon I would start to ignore people I knew when I was with him, especially men, because it was easier that having him accuse me of things later, and have it escalate to a violent outbreak.

His family was extremely disfunctional. All alcoholics, with a father who had been extremely abusive, but had since passed away. His mother was very hardened, and tended to think that her sons were normal. Especially Duke, who was her baby.

I wanted to believe that I could help him and change him. That it was all because of his past. I told my family that he was a good person down somewhere in there and that I was determined to find it.

I ended up leaving him late one night after a dance. We had been drinking, (he was always 10 times worse with alcohol) and had started arguing on the way home. He called me a slut and for some stupid reason I slapped him. Maybe because I was just sick of his lies and accusations, and knew what was coming. So I thought I'd get mine in first. Well he stopped the car and I started running. I knew I was dead if he caught me. He caught me, he drug me back to the house by my hair. Up the steps, by my hair, and into the house. I remember curling up in the porch while he kicked at me. He told me to get into the bedroom. I ran, following his orders, fearing for my life. When we got there he ripped my shirt off. I screamed and ran from him. I told him I was going to call my parents. He told me that he would call them for me, and tell them to come get me, because he couldn't stand me anymore. But he had this look of evil in his eyes. I'll never forget it. It was like he was overcome by some sort of monster. He ripped the phone cords from the phone. I realized that if I was going to make it out of this I had to reason with him and get him to calm down. So I started to talk real softly. Lying to him by telling him how much I loved him, and how much I wanted our marrige to work. I could see his eyes start to soften. I continued to talk to him, telling him that we needed help to have a good marriage and not continue to live like this. The whole time I was thinking of how I could get his to let me use the phone and get help, before he killed me. I told him we should phone the crisis center, and talk to someone to help us. I told him that we should do it right now.

That I just had so many problems, that it wasn't his fault, that I needed someone to talk to about it. So he actually let me use the phone!! I called the crisis center, and told them that we needed help, trying not to tip my husband off that I was actually calling for her to get the police. She asked me if I wanted a police officer. I said "yes". She asked me for my address and I had no way of telling her this without him catching on. I was stuck. I whispered to her that I couldn't tell her that. My heart was pounding in my chest. I told her our names and said that they would know where we lived, because we were in an extremly small town where everyone knows everyone. My husband caught on, and immediately grabbed the phone and asked her what she said to me. SHE TOLD HIM!!! I knew I was dead. She actually told him that I asked her for the police to come. He told her that if the police came, he'd be waiting and ready for them. He hung up the phone. I was praying that she would make the call. He told me that the police were coming and that I better get ready. I had no idea what he meant. I was talking a mile a minute trying to calm him down. He went downstairs. He came back up with a baseball bat. He stood around the back of the door and said that when the cop came in he'd be in for a surprise. I was sick, thinking about what was about to happen.

The police pulled up, only one officer. He walked up to the door and knocked on it. Duke casually answered the door as if it were an old aquaintance. The policeman came in and asked Duke what he was doing with the bat. He said that he was thinking of using it. The police officer changed to topic and asked what was going on here. I said that I wanted to leave. Duke said that he didn't want me to go. The police officer said, "c'mon duke you know its a free country and Rochelle can come with me if she wants" Duke said "yeah". The officer asked me if I wanted to come with him. I answered yes. Duke swung the bat at the stove. The police officer shouted "GO, GO". I ran outside in November, no shoes nothing and got into his car. He was right behind me. He drew his gun as Duke ran out behind him. He started smashing the windows out of our car sitting on front of the police car. He screamed that he was going to "burn the place down!" We drove away. And for some reason I was sad that I had to leave. And I wanted things to change. I felt ashamed that I had to go to my parents that night. Wake them at 3:00 and tell them what happened. I ended up pressing charges against him.

One day I went to pick up my things and I stayed. I was still in the frame of mind that I was a failure because I could not manage to make my marriage work. I felt like a failure in my parents eyes, like I have felt so many times before. My family was supportive, but I still felt like a failure. He again convinced me that he was willing and able to change. He said that he would do it for me. That he loved me that much. He would not touch another touch of alcohol and things would be different from then on in. I have always been a trusting person, and I believed him, again. I wanted my marriage to work, if not for my sake for my parents. So they could stop being ashamed of me.

He joined A.A. Things were different, for a short time. The abuse slowly returned. He was very suicidal, or at least used that to scare me into staying with him. I became pregnant. We thought that would be good for our marriage. I thought that becoming a daddy might just settle him down. Throughout the pregnancy there was mostly verbal and mental abuse. When my daughter was born, we had the opportunity to move with his job. I jumped at it, thinking that if I could get him away from his family things might get better. Once we moved, things again slowly went back to normal. Alot of nights I spent sleeping, alone with the door shut tight afraid what he would to me. I always kept my eyes open in the shower, afraid that he would come in and kill me.

One day we were on our way to the city to do some shopping. We got into a heated conversation. I remember him telling me that if he did decide to kill me, that he would be sure to do it in a way that no one would find me. He would cut me up into tiny pieces and throw me in the ocean or something like that. I remember thinking that if I ever could get the opportunity to kill him in self defense that I would jump on that opportunity. How sick is that. I often wished him dead. I used to think how much easier my life would be if he was just 6 feet under. Gone for good. Some where, where I knew he wouldn't be sneaking up on me to catch me when I least expected it. I was terrified of him.

The next time I left him, we had had a huge fight and I had told him that I was leaving. STUPID!!! You see when you are abused, sometimes you just want to retaliate, just like a teenager retailating against there curfew. Duke exploded, I again used my lies to calm him down. Telling him I loved him and that I would never leave him...... He had to leave for work, and told me that if I left him he'd kill me, and I'd never see my family or anyone else again. I told him not to be so stupid. That I just had a bad day, and I would never leave him. He left. I was like a mad woman throwing things into the car. Diapers, clothes and the bare neccesities just to get out of there before he had second thoughts and came home. I drove to my mom and dads constantly looking in the rear view mirror for him. Terrified, crying and practically on the verge of insanity. This time I told myself I was leaving for good. Baby and all. I got to my parents, over the course of a few days, we had rented an apartment in the city, got me on social assistance, and I was on my way to a new life. Just me and my baby. The day I went to get my things, I had police escort me out to my old home, with my dad behind us in his truck and trailer. Duke now had a criminal record, because I had charged him before. For that incident he recieved probation. Woopee.

The police went in and secured the scene first of all to make sure that he wasn't home. Then they let me in. Within about an hour, I had all my things and we were on the road again. I drove into my parents yard first, my dad was quite a ways behind me. I had gotten my 12 year old nephew to watch my baby. I just got into the house and the phone rang. It was my sister Darcy. She wanted to know how everything went. I was telling her, when my worst nightmare came true. Duke drove into the yard. I screamed "Oh my god hes here". She said she was going to call the neighbors right away and hung up. Before I could get to the door, he came right in and grabbed Arielle from my nephews arms. I screamed for him to let her go. He said that he would always know where I was and that I couldn't get away from him. "No matter where you go I'll be there." Just then my dad drove into the yard and Duke seen him, and left the house, first handing me Arielle. As he got into his truck he drew up a gun. Pointed it at himself motioning that he pulled the trigger and then pointed it at Arielle and me, motioning that he pulled the trigger. Then he drove away, meeting my dad in the driveway, shaking his hand he said how good it was to have known him and wished my father well, like nothing at all had just happened. I decided this time not to press charges, since last time it didn't do any good anyway. I just wanted to escape. I moved into the city with my infant daughter. I got a student loan and started hair dressing school. Before I even had a chance to start school I came home from getting groceries and found Dukes business card under my door. A subtle hint that he had found me. I shuddered, locked the door, sat down and started crying. I was already terrified of the dark, because of him, now sleep was non-existant. I went down to my car the next day and found a note on the windshield that he wanted to see Arielle and to call him immediately. I was sick to my stomach for the rest of the day. There was a huge tree right outside my balcony, and I had visions of him crawling up it and coming through my patio doors. I wouldn't even let my air conditioning run because it was too noisy, and I might not hear him coming. I never slept, and he now had my unlisted phone number and was also calling. I decided to move again. I moved to a basement suite, again safe for awhile. It wasn't long until he found me again. He wanted to see Arielle and a lawyer told me I had no option but to oblige him. So I met him in public places with her, never leaving her alone with him. Most of the visits consisted of him telling me how he had changed, he was seeking counselling from this really great counseller. He wanted me and Arielle to come with him so that we could meet her, and she could help us work to still be good parents to Arielle. He made it sound like it I didn't go, I was doing Arielle some sort of injustice. And I started to feel that way. So I finally gave in and decided to do. The whole time I was oblivious to the fact that he was reeling me in again, or was I? I must admit the idea of raising my child as I was with a mother and father who love her and love each other was appealing. Thats all that I wanted in life really. And for my little girl, how could I tell her that I quit trying? I didn't think I could. Before long we were making regular visits to this counsellor, who somehow Duke had convinced that he was fairly normal and most of the problems were mine. And we all believed him. We started to live together again. I was hiding it from my parents, embarrased, ashamed I guess. I really don't know. They eventually caught on and didn't say to much, but were very dissapointed. My dad wouldn't come over. Things had changed. My sister wouldn't talk to me. My other one had stopped talking to me long ago. I was alienated from my family, all because I was trying to make my own family work, or so I thought.

We moved into the top floor of a house about a year later. Duke was going to University, and I was working. Duke had a second job in a bar as a bouncer. Perfect for him since intimidation was his master. Life was up and down. But mostly down. We screamed alot. He threatened alot. But to everyone else we seemed to be fairly normal. There was a young man living downstairs. He was recently seperated. Little did I know that this mans mere presence would save my life.

We were arguing again. I can't even remember now how it started. But it escalated, quickly. Duke got that look in his eyes, that look of horror. He looked at me like this and I knew that he was capable of murder, even if nobody else thought so. It was only a matter of time. He pulled out this make shift gun and while sitting on the couch calmly, put it in his mouth and told me this was the end. I was praying he would make it go off, and kill himself. But instead he turned it on me. I was holding Arielle. I was terrified. I put my head down and started screaming for Steve the man downstairs. I was stomping my feet and screaming. I just knew that I didn't want to die, not with my daughter in my arms. His eyes seemed to suddenly jolt. Like he was snapping out of some kind of trance or something. He whispered in my ear that if I went to the cops he would cut my legs off, and I ran out the door with Arielle and my keys. I ran right to my car. When Steve came out of his suite and asked me if I was okay, I told him that I had to get out of there that Duke was going crazy and I had to leave. I drove straight to the police.

I was sobbing when I got there. I called my dad and told him what had happened. I told him that I would get a room at the YWCA. They had a shelter there. He told me to go ahead. He didn't sound suprised anymore, or like he really cared. He must have thought that this time would be just like the rest, so why waste time.

I told them my story. They immediately went to the house and arrested him. He spent a couple of days in jail. I stayed away this time. With Steves help, and family support I managed to finally break away from him. A few months later Duke was sentenced. He got probation. The judge said that he would give him the benifit of the doubt. I stood up in the court room and yelled that "maybe when he killed me, he'd go to jail, maybe thats what it was going to take." The judge never said a word, he just looked at me. I walked out mortified and crying, again. He got access to the daughter he threatened with a gun. Don't even get me started on the court system.

This was 5 years ago now. Up until 1 1/2 years ago, I still kept the windows locked, the doors locked, and always had an eye on Arielle. As soon as I remarried, Duke didn't seem to care about Arielle anymore. He relinquished his parental rights and Steve adopted her. He jumps in and out of the picture, when he feels like it now. He has a girlfriend, which means his obsession is not with me anymore. This story is just a brief summary of my life as a victim of domestic violence. I have alot more stories to tell, like the time he beat me in the bedroom while 5 of his friends listened on the other side of the door, afraid to come in. Or at least thats what they told me after he left me on the floor, and they finally came to my assistance. Or the time he ran me off the road when I was 7 months pregnant, and trying to get away from him. Or all the times he went downstairs to "hang himself". He made a nuse once and put it around my neck, and told me it would be waiting for me the next time I pushed his buttons.

I'm sure that my life with him will always affect my current life somehow. I hope not, but I'm pretty sure it will. I now suffer from depression. Even though my current marriage, is the best relationship I've ever had. I have insecurities of my own. I worry alot. I still do not feel safe in my own home. There are alot of things about me that have changed since Duke. Some good, mostly bad. It certainly made me grow up in a hurry. Which was definetly what god had in mind, I'm sure. Its just what I needed to shock me into becoming an adult. It strengthened my faith, and gave me the most beautiful daughter anyone could ask for. She became my drive in life. Iwanted to do right the next time around for her sake. I wasn't afraid of marriage. I knew that not all men were like him. I just had to find the right one. The one that was right for me. And I finally succeded. My children and my husband are great, but I still have to deal with my past. I'm hoping that writing this helps me do this. And who knows maybe it will help someone else too.

I really believe that unless you've lived the horror of domestic violence, you will never truly understand it. No counsellors, no friends, and no family member will ever be able to relate to what you've gone through and the feelings you've had unless they themselves have lived it. They may not understand the reasons for returning time after time to the abuser. They don't realize that you fell safer with him where you know where he is, instead of him jumping out at you from behind some bush ready to attack some night when you least expect it. At least you have a chance to defend yourself when you know whats coming. They may not understand the fear of the dark, when hes out there somewhere, and you know hes thinking of ways to get you, as you lie there in bed. They take sleep and peace of mind for granted. Or just the basic right to walk out of your home and feel safe. Abused women have had that stripped from them. Or what its like to wonder when you send your child off to school, if she'll be returning that night, or if he'll show up and take her and you'll never see her again. There are so many more feelings and emotions that come with this, it would take an eternity to explain them all. They last a lifetime. And impact you forever. Its something you'll never forget and something that you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

Family tries to understand. But after years of trying and trying to get you out of it, they finally leave you to your own decisions. Don't get me wrong they still care, they just have done all they can do. I think that the most important thing a family member can do is just to let the abused individual know that you still care and will always be there for them. Your door will always be open if they need it, and you will always be there to listen and cry with them. I didn't feel that way with my siblings, and I really wish that I would have. Not that I'm blaming them, they had no idea how to handle this. They did the best they knew how to. Probably what I would have done, had I been put in thier shoes. It may not have changed anything, but it might have made me feel more secure. Just knowing that you have somewhere to go always helps.

If I do decide to post this on the internet, I hope it helps someone. I guess that would make my suffering more worthwhile. Even if someone reads it and has more understanding for the abused women out there. Then I guess I've helped. That would only make someone elses life a little easier.

Rochelle

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