Flying From a Nightmare and Back to Hell

I was still sick and on medicine when Paul told me he was going to go to Chicago for a baseball event he had planned with his buddies months ago. I honestly didn’t mind because that meant I could have some R&R time and no mental abuse. Two days before Paul left we got into an argument because he went through my phone and saw I was emailing an old friend from high school, spencer. 

Spencer was very outgoing, very talented. Played music, sang, could do magic, he could act. Just a all around talented and sweet guy and we talked about our nightmares and dreams and writing. Paul got jealous and started slamming shit around at 3am. (He had gone through my phone while I was asleep.) I woke up confused and he was shouting at me that I didn’t care about him. 

I began to attempt to reassure him saying things like “I do love you. I moved all the way from Texas to here for you. To be with you. To be near you.” It wasn’t enough he kept talking over me. I was so tired I sat back down on the bed and put my head in my palms. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me.  “What do you need me to do to prove to you?” I asked him. He didn’t hear me or he did but his drunk self just ignored me so I got under the covers and put my arm over my face to shield the light because I was not going to argue with a drunk man. 

Next thing I knew he was on top of me. Hitting me, with his fists. I started crying and begging him to stop. I told him I loved him while he was hitting me, it didn’t stop. I blocked my face from him and began to really fight back and I knocked him off the bed. That made him angry. I went for the bathroom door which wasn’t far and he grabbed my waist and wasn’t letting go. 

I was half in the bathroom half in the bedroom and that’s when everything got real, really fast. 

I will not and can not go into detail on the whole thing but he had me by my hair and told me to tell him I loved him over and over again while he did what he wanted with me. 

The next day I wouldn’t speak to him. I barely slept the night before. We got into a fight about me wanting to go back home. He went in the bathroom and “cried.” Then after an hour or so he came out and tried to act like an adult. He was mad at me that I didn’t try to open the door or check on him. 

The day after that he left for Chicago. He Skyped me while in Chicago. Drunk within hours of arriving. Begging me to tell him I loved him. It was exhausting. The next day I drove myself down to the market and for soup and some items to make me feel better and more at home. I watched Netflix all day and Drew and blogged. The fifth or sixth day he was in Chicago he thought I had someone with me while we were skyping. He insisted on me showing him no one was there and agin with doubting my affection for him. I was still very sick and grew sicker of him the more he drunkenly blabbered on. 

He called me several times that night  and by the fifth or sixth call I had had it. I told him it was over and I didn’t want to speak to him ever again. Then I hung up on him. His friend called me, all his friends called me. Left me voicemails not to leave Paul and that I was acting foolish. I called my parents house, crying and asked if they could book me a flight. 

My grandmother worked for an airline and got me a first class flight so I had to dress up/look nice. It was 10 at night and the flight left in an hour or so. I packed as much shit as I could and left everything else’s behind. Nothing I needed or couldn’t replace anyway. I called and got a taxi and I left about 20 minutes after I got off the phone with my dad. My Taxi driver was really nice. He asked me where I was going and I said “Texas,” and he asked “is that your home?” I stared out the window with tears streaming down my face and managed to say “no, just where my parents are.” 

I tipped him well and went and got my ticket checked in my bags and literally walked straight to the terminal and got  onto the plane. No waiting. I was in a navy blue dress and I hadn’t brought a jacket. I was freezing. I don’t know how I did it, but after take off and seeing the Fourth of July fireworks go off I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until we were preparing to land. 

I remember getting off the plane and getting my bag. I walked through the airport out to the entrance my parents said they would be at. As I walked outside the air stuck to my skin how syrup coats pancakes. The moist air soaked my lungs and the heat made the back of my neck sweat a little. This is what Hell feels like. 

I did not cry. I simply got in the truck and we went home and I went to sleep. 

I thought maybe it was over but it wasn’t. Paul had made up his mind to seek vengeance for me leaving. I just didn’t expect him to hop on a plane and come after me. 

Tail Between My Legs

I am an animal lover. When i hear the term or phrase “Running away with its tail between it’s legs.” I think of a scared or defeated animal. Probably hurt weather it was mental or physical. That is exactly what happened between me and my dad and why i put my tail between my legs and ran back to my abuser.

Where we left off last time (In my time line of mis-fortune in relationships.) I had left in the middle of the night to fly back to my boyfriend who i had every intention of leaving. Being there was a significant age difference it was difficult for me to communicate effectively with him. Often at times it felt as if i were communicating to my father… not in a good way. It was hard to relate to him at times and we disagreed a lot. I thought I knew Paul and understood him. He was honestly a stranger. I couldn’t have known less about him. I didn’t want to take anymore mental abuse from the environment with my parents, as a result I ran back to the stranger who hurt me in other ways.

Let me just say… I am TERRIFIED of planes. I don’t get on them unless it is crucial to my existence. (In this instance it was because i believed I had no where else to go.) Between being up all night before hand trying to decide weather to go back to Paul or not, being extremely emotionally spent from the fight with my dad, terrified of getting on a plane alone and going from one abuser to another, was not a good combination on my body. I hadn’t eaten in almost 48 hours either. By the time i got off the plane i was just happy to see the ground. Paul was there to pick me up and he drove me “home.”

I wasn’t feeling well and i remember unpacking and wanting to cry. The next day we went  to see his brother, Jason, which was a 35 minute drive. Paul lectured me the entire way there despite how sick I felt. I specifically remember that drive because a trooper pulled us over and Paul talked his way out of a fucking speeding ticket. I digress, we stayed there all day and left Jason’s after I had fallen asleep on the couch from Jet lag and being sick.

Paul had his tonsils taken out when he was extremely young so he never experienced strep throat or laryngitis or anything that affects the tonsils and makes you fucking miserable. He didn’t believe i was sick and told me to sleep it off despite the fact that i begged him to let me go to the doctor. He threatened me saying he would kick me out. I asked him to drive me and I would give him the money from my next paycheck and he said it would be a waste.

I went three days without taking any medicine and feeling like shit. On the third night Scarlet Fever had taken over and I began to hallucinate, I was talking nonsense, yet i don’t remember any of it. Paul said my body was hot and I wouldn’t stop sweating. He drug me to the balcony to get some fresh air. It was 40 something degrees outside so I began to seize from the temperature change. Paul had to carry me inside and finally called his mom and asked if he should call 911. I did not break my fever that night. The next morning I woke up unable to speak and Paul drove me to a care now facility.

I had developed scarlet fever from having untreated strep throat, and had pneumonia. I cried in the doctors office while away from Paul. I wanted to ask the Doctor for help… not just medically. I was unable to communicate seeing as I lost my voice so even if i did have the courage i wouldn’t have been able to. I was prescribed a bunch of medicine and they sent me home. Paul apologized profusely and told me he was afraid for my life. He was mad and said he hated me for scaring him like that. I felt distant from him after that. As an apology to me he went and adopted a kitten who i named Pumpkin. Pumpkin kept me company while Paul went out looking for a job since he had become unemployed.

When my mom called and I talked to her she cried and said she wanted to get away from my father and she hated him for driving me away. She begged me to come home. I told her about being sick and that Paul hadn’t taken me to the doctor and she cried while i reassured her everything was okay.

What was to come later that week I would have never expected would happen to me. I had experienced violence from Paul but not like this.