Itch

Ahhh Life. There are a ton of different ways to describe it. Positive, negative, neutral, and vague.  The glass is half full, half empty. Then you have the glass isn’t even there, or are we sure the glass is even there?  Oh, and we can’t forget people who have to have a label or several on everything and everyone. The politically correct people and the ones that take political correctness way too far. I guess I’m somewhere out there somewhere. I don’t like labels, though there are some things that need them or we’ll end up eating beans when we wanted corn. People shouldn’t have labels unless they are needed to open up doors for help, though I don’t think labels should be needed to get help if needed. Oh and labels for people only if the people being labeled are the ones putting those labels there.

I’m getting way ahead of myself, or behind myself?  Maybe just way out there, and getting lost.  Maybe I should just scrap this and start over? Or just find myself, ha ha, and correct the direction and go from  here.

 I got caught up in my mind since the incident happened.  It was five months ago, and involved my ex. Though he is supposed to get out of jail any day now, probably why I’m writing.  Our relationship started out loving and the whole nine yards. Romantic, sweet, protective. Then one day he just started to be over protective and jealous, and possessive. Rough during sex, left bruises on my body. I tried talking to him when  he we were alone, and kept t he discussion nice and calm, but he got agitated quickly and refused to see how he had changed. He accused me of changing and becoming a slut, and cheating on him. So, I told him I wasn’t cheating on him and that he had nothing to worry about.  Life continued for a bit. I had to travel for work, and I invited him to go with, but he wanted to stay with his friends cause they had plans, so I went alone. While I was gone he called like every hour. During the flight I couldn’t pick up and then while there there were times I couldn’t pick up either. During the meetings I couldn’t answer either. Every time we did talk he accused me of fucking other guys and that was why I wasn’t answering the phone. I turned off my phone for the rest of the trip, and bought a new phone for work purposes, since I needed a way for my boss and other work contacts to get a hold of me and sent out a mass text to all of them with my new contact information. No one questioned why I changed my information. When I was ready to go home I turned my cell phone back on, and had quite a few messages. I didn’t bother listening to them, I knew the gist of what they were all going to say. I was working up the courage to break up with him and tell him to be out of my apartment by the time I got home, when the phone rang and it was him. It was now or never. So, I answered the phone. He couldn’t speak for a bit, I guess my answering the phone shocked him, so I took advantage of that and told him to get out of my apartment, and to make sure he did so I was calling the police and having them escort him out. That  I would be arriving home in a few days, and wanted him out. That must have broken his shock and he  screamed at me that he was already at the airport waiting on me and that we would discuss my misbehavior when I got there. I was laughing as I hung  up the phone. Then promptly looked up the number for the police for where I live, and called them. Filled them in on what was going on up to what had just happened over the phone.  They said that they would be there when I landed, and escort me off the plane.

I packed my bags then took a shower, signed out of the hotel, and called a cab.  When I got to  the airport an hour and a half early I saw him waiting for me. I made a bee line for a crowded area, but he  reached me before I could reach them. Grabbed my arm and lead me away from them into a deserted area. Bruising my arm as we went, me yelling for help and fighting him the whole way.  No one stopped him. He pushed me into his car and pushed me into the driver’s seat sitting down beside me. Pulling a gun on me he told me to drive home.

Soon as we arrived at my place he grabbed my wrist and dragged me through the passenger side of the car. Threw me into the house and against the wall. I’ll spare you the rest of the details. By the time I was able to call for an ambulance the next day after he left for work, I was in really bad shape. The doctor told me that I would have died had he stayed any longer or I had waited any longer to call.

My ribs were broken, and I had a sprained ankle, and broken arm, along with a ton of abrasions and cuts, and other bruises including my face and neck.

Called a blacksmith to change the locks, and a judge granted an emergency order of protection. Body guard, and police protection until he could be arrested.

Insurance provided a home care nurse so I went home before completely healed.

 

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