He wasn’t abusive when we fell in love. I guess we all change in relationships, don’t we? I never would’ve thought that ten years later I’d be arrested for murder, but there I was being fingerprinted and questioned under harsh lights. The truth is I really didn’t know if I was sorry that I killed him.
I know what you’re thinking, I could have just left him. Actually, I tried, I did, but he kept harassing me. He kept finding me, calling me, texting me. He wouldn’t leave me alone. So, I basically had no choice, at least I didn’t think I did. I’m finally free, he won’t be able to bother or hurt me again.
It all started ten years ago, it was wonderful in the beginning. He was so nice, and caring. He always seem to want to do anything for me. I’m not exactly sure when everything changed. It just seem to happen little by little. Was I just blinded by love or scared to be alone? I’m not really sure, I mean I could see some of what he was doing, and I didn’t like it, but I stayed anyway.
Over all it was more emotional abuse than physical. He did only hit me a couple times and there was that one time he bit me. After a while I’d notice his tone. He seemed happier talking to his friends, than to me. He liked to control me, after all he made it so I would spend less and less time with my family. I’m not sure why, he always said he didn’t like to be around that many people. But this was my family, if you’re going to be in my life, you needed to be in theirs.
One day, he told me that I never made decisions, so from now on, I was supposed to decide things. That didn’t go over well, he yelled at me, saying I was a controlling bitch, and he didn’t have to put up with it. He had dreams and if I tried to stand in his way, he would leave me.
He would always tell me to prove my love for him, I’d say I do anything and everything you ask me to, and I still have something to prove to you? Don’t be stupid, just do it please. It was driving me crazy, I was loosing my mind, and was thinking of going to counseling. He agreed, telling me I was messed up, and needed help. So I called around and was setting up appointments. Big mistake, he told me I was stupid and pathetic and that wasn’t going to help me.
One day, I thought I found a way out. It hurt me so much to leave, even though I knew I deserved better. But he wouldn’t let me go easily. He kept calling me, bugging me, showing up and trying to get me back. Why so you can abuse me more? No, I’m done, it’s over. Can’t we still be friends? He asked. Oh sure, I lied, let’s be friends. Really? He asked, that’s great. No, you ass, I lied, like you’ve been doing all these years to me. Feels good, doesn’t it?
That pissed him off, and he attacked, but I was prepared this time, and I shot him. It hurt me to do it. I was afraid, but I did it and I didn’t see this ever ending in a good way.
That brings us back to the police station. The tough questions, and yelling, the crying. I had so much built of fear and anger, I thought that I was going away for twenty plus years. In the end, everything pointed to self defense, which honestly it was, because he did attack, and I fought back. I was relieved that I wasn’t going to prison, but I still had to live with the fact that I had killed a human being. No matter how awful that person was, he was still human. And I still live with it to this day. I will never forget, as I spend the rest of my days alone.