I felt like I was living in two different worlds. I was a school teacher, and he was a previously convicted felon. They say opposites attract, right? Not always.

He never wanted anything to do with me. Not in the beginning, at least. Over time, he got away with more and more, until I just couldn’t take anymore. Summer of 2010. It was what I considered, “love at first sight”. Of course, it had been eight years since we had seen each other. I had three girls, he had a boy and a girl. Never in a million years would I believe we would marry six years later and have two little boys together.

But we did.

He overwhelmed me with his romance, and moved quite quickly. I remember he left me flowers and a card outside the door at my college one time. I was taking a full load of summer courses. He helped me through them, but never wanted to leave my side. So he would spend literally hours- wandering the college campus.

I lived in a ranch styled house in a rural part of Barrow County, Georgia in Auburn. The house sat on a hill and had a large fenced in backyard.

He had no home, vehicle, job- nothing. I was a full-time college student having rented my very first home (not in an apartment complex). I drove my 1998′ white Chevy Blazer.

It didn’t take long until he got ahold of my title, and convinced me to trade my Blazer in for another 2-door car (I couldn’t stand it)- a Pontiac, and cash in addition.

On one occasion I had my youngest daughter, Hannah, with me. He was my boyfriend at the time, working as a salesman for Kirby. He worked long hours, and for the most part- I think he was doing other curricular activities, if you know what I mean.

We were driving home when I rolled up in our steep driveway. My daughter, two at the time, unbuckled her seatbelt. In the blink of an eye- I literally watched my car roll down my driveway barely missing large trees and the big house in front of mine. My daughter was trapped in the back. As the car rolled, I panicked. I got down on my knees and started using my hands to press the brakes. It never occurred to me- grab the emergency brake!

My hand got caught, and the car literally DRUG me down our driveway. I was pregnant with our first baby, but most do not know this, because the baby did not survive. This was before Anthony was born.

It was around September of 2010. The adrenaline ran through my veins. I recall running down the hill screaming at the top of my lungs- “MY BABY! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME, MY BABY IS IN THE CAR!” I expected to hear crying- anything once I heard the loud, “BAM”.

But nothing. Not a sound.

I ran down, and my neighbor across the street ran to where the car had flown down the hill into his fence and stopped by trees. He helped my daughter get out of the car. She was okay! I was relieved.

He noticed that I was bleeding and had several gashes down my legs, arms, and face from being drug down the pavement.

I called my husband, (he was my boyfriend at the time), and told him what happened. I called my sister as well. He arrived in his work van, dressed up in a suit. He chastised me about the car, and left to go back to work.

My sister ended up driving me to the hospital.

When we first found out I was pregnant, he was thrilled- overjoyed. As time went on, he kept on insisting that I have an abortion. He made all kinds of threats on what he would do if I didn’t.

After so much time passed, I did as he told me. I had a forced abortion with our first baby. I was due April 10th, 2011. Ironically, I almost immediately became pregnant again, and gave birth to Anthony on November 18th, 2011.

He was hateful. He was nasty. I couldn’t believe I was seeing this side of him. But what else do I do? I had no where to turn. My family tried to warn me about him. But I ignored their concerns. I had to just deal with it.

He wouldn’t even get up early enough in the morning to take me to have the procedure done. My sister drove me there and back. It was one of the worst things I’d ever been through. I had to take off all of my jewelry, and wear hospital-like gowns. I took off my sterling silver necklace that read, “Mom”, across a heart on it. By accident, I left it at the abortion clinic, ironically.

I did everything I could to numb out my emotions. I refused to find out the gender of the baby. I did not want to know. My husband was late, as usual. When it was over, I woke up and couldn’t stop crying. I began to hyperventilate. I remember wanting to beg the nurses to stop but the medicine put me to sleep so quick.

I couldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him.

After getting home, I laid on my couch, and cried.

I felt so hurt. He bought me a Subway sandwich, and on his way to work he went.

He never brought it up again, and refused to validate any feelings I had regarding the situation.

He coerced me into having an abortion.

I had no idea what I was in for once I did get pregnant again. I would get pregnant two more times, and the abuse on every level would continue to escalate as the years went by.

He made me believe that I was incapable of surviving life without him.

He made me believe that I would never be good enough.

I tried so hard, to the point of exhaustion.

But nothing I did, could save me from what he had planned for me.





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