By Chavon Simmons
Waking up, sun burning my eyes, head pounding. Trying to figure out why I feel like I've been hit by a bus. I will myself out of bed and as I walk into the bathroom I remember now. His fist pounding my flesh, foaming at the mouth curses, while his degrading words pierced my skin like knives. It hurts too much to cry so I suck it up and jump into the shower. I can't call out again or lose my job, so I get dressed and grab my sunglasses on my way out the door.
The bus finally arrives so I sit back, put my headphones on and close my eyes. I remember my daughter screaming from the stairs looking helpless and afraid, yet so strong at only six years old. Now, the tears rush back like a tsunami and I have to release the flood. This was my breaking point. Enough is enough. It had been six years, but it wasn't always this way. When we met in 1998 he was sweet, caring, and considerate. He was 10 years my senior, fresh out of the Army with a good job. Just my type
At the time my daughter was only six months old. He would stop by out of the blue with Pampers, dinner, and even money for us. Quickly we became an item. He introduced me to his family and his son, who was two years old at the time. Everything was great that first year. We got engaged and we moved in together. He worked full time so I stayed home and tended to him and the kids. By that time, I was pregnant with our first son, and right after him came son number two. I was only 20 years old at the time, he was 30.. Things were good -- or so I thought.
One night after work, he came home angry. I tried talking to him but nothing seemed to work. Finally, I gave up and went to bed. At around 3 a.m I awaken to him sitting on the bed, blood shot eyes and sweaty. I was scared and asked what was wrong. He didn't say a word. Instead, he walked to my side of the bed, smacked me across the face and proceeded to rape me. I was so shocked I couldn't do anything but cry into my pillow.
Afterward, he just looked at me and smiled then went right to sleep. I was shocked and confused wondering what I did to deserve that. Yet, I stayed. After that things were good and we didn't have another issue until about eight months later. During our next disagreement, he actually kicked me in my mouth. I don't ever remember what our disagreement was about that time. I just remember the pain. The last straw came in the summer of 2005. I was unhappy, overweight, and most of it was affecting my children.
One night I arrived home from work around The house was dark and quiet. I assumed the kids were sleeping, and prayed he was too. I was starving so I put on the television and went to make a TV dinner. As it was cooking, I sat on the sofa to watch the late-night news, and before I know it he was standing over me. I didn't say a thing. Finally he says ''Yo'' in a harsh tone. I look up to see his 35mm revolver pointed at my temple. I was so tired at this point of everything he put me through I didn't care, I was ready to die. I looked up at him and said: '' If you're not going to use it put it away'', so calmly. A minute seemed like an hour but he lowered it and walked away.
Five minutes later he was back, yelling some nonsense about coming home late from work. This was the last straw. I got up walked toward the steps and said goodnight. I guess this pissed him off more because he grabbed me hard and begun digging his nails into the back of my arms. I was truly fed up. I snatched my arm away and punched him hard three times in the face. His face changed from mad to insane. He then took two steps back and punched me as hard as he could right between my eyes. I literally saw stars. But I didn't fall; I refused to fall. I did the only thing I could do. I shook it off and tackled him onto our glass coffee table. We both lay there, unconscious. Luckily for me, my baby girl woke up amongst the noise, got her brother's shoes on and went to the neighbor's house to call the police.
As I awoke in the hospital the next day I didn't even care about me. I just wanted to know where my kids were. But they were safe with my neighbor. That was over seven years ago. And that was the end. I left him.
I am now happily married and my kids are safe and happy. I realize looking back that I could have died that day. But I felt like it was what I had to do to finally break free. Don't get me wrong. I don't advise anyone to do what I did. I just hope that anyone reading this story will leave before it's too late. There is a lot of help available out there for women in abusive situations. We, as women, just have to stand up for ourselves, our children, and our loved ones and say: 'Enough is enough. I deserve better.'