My name is Grace, and this is my story. I am writing this with the encouragement of, and under the care of, my therapist. Sharing it here is an element of my therapy. This is a generally happy story, but writing it has been emotional and cathartic, particularly the beginning. That was the goal of my therapist; for me to write it down, so I could put my past behind me and embrace my future. My therapist has a more detailed beginning to this story but I'm choosing not to burden my readers with it; and the conversations, particularly those in the early part of this story, are the best of my (and my husband's) recollection.
There are no sex scenes in this story, just a discussion of my path to happiness. Trust me, there IS a happy ending, an ending I could never have imagined, an ending so full of hope and love that each day I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not hallucinating. The journey to that ending is the focus of this story, and I share it to give others hope. I'm not saying that my path is the only path, far from it. My only wish is that after reading my story, you develop a sense of hope; hope that whatever you're dealing with can, and will, be overcome. At the same time, I realize how amazingly fortunate I am, my story could have easily ended much differently. In fact, it nearly did. My husband, Deacon, has stood beside me during the writing process, sometimes literally standing there, his hand gently on my shoulder, keeping the both of us supplied with tissues. I would not have been able to do this without his strength to lean on. I love you my darling, my Wolfie, my Happy Ever After.
As a child, I was shy. I was always the quiet one in any group. Introvert is the proper term. You hear people use the words withdrawn or introspective to describe us. My pediatrician thought it was because of hearing difficulties. I refused to wear hearing aids. Back then they were a surefire way to be bullied, and that was the last thing I wanted. As an adult, I go out and engage the world, but I'm exhausted by the end of the day. After working all day, attending a party, or spending time with a large group, I need to recharge by spending time alone. Silence is my religion. I've been this way for my entire life.
Unlucky me, my introversion is paired with generalized anxiety disorder. When my energy gets low, or the situation seems overwhelming, I suffer from nervousness and restlessness. If I don't remove myself from the situation, I risk a panic attack. I've learned to deal with it all. As a child, I was on medication, but as an adult, I didn't care for the side effects, so most days I just toughed it out.
As if my life couldn't get any worse, my therapist says I have an adjustment disorder. Great. Just great. I credit my last relationship with contributing to that one.
Ernie was
the guy
—until he wasn't. We met online and discovered that we lived only a short drive apart. In the beginning, our relationship flourished. We had similar backgrounds, liked many of the same activities, and had similar tastes in food and music.
On our first date, we met at a coffee shop. I felt an instant attraction to him. We chatted for a couple of hours, and when we ended the date I kissed him. He was a great kisser. We agreed to lunch and a movie the following Saturday. That night after the movie, I slept with him. I'm not in the habit of sleeping with a guy that soon, but we had that instant attraction. Soon I was spending every weekend with him. I was falling hard. What could be better, right? Turns out, a lot could be better. After a few months, Ernie's dominant side began to emerge. At first, I didn't mind it. I could turn over decisions to him and just go with the flow. In some respects, his dominance relieved me of some adult responsibilities.
After a few more months, things began to change. It started with comments about my clothing—my skirt was too short and he thought it might give people the wrong impression, for example. Then, it was my friends.
"She's a bit much—are you sure that's a good person for you to hang around?"
Little by little, I kept losing my personal space. Within the first six months of dating, Ernie slapped my face as punishment for getting a ride with a male coworker to meet him at a bar. He immediately apologized profusely. Naive me, I forgave him, and things returned to what was normal for us. For a while, he was less overbearing. Then it happened again, and for several months this is how it went. He always apologized profusely and professed his love, and things got better—for a while. I thought his outbursts were my fault, that I was the one in the wrong. Much later, too late, I learned that's how most perpetrators of domestic violence behave.
If I didn't want to go out and he did, he berated me until I gave in.
"You want to stay in and watch a movie? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" was a common line he used. "When did you become so boring?" was another. Eventually, I quit disagreeing with him, and we did whatever he wanted.
If I didn't enjoy a meal, he wondered out loud what was wrong with my tastes.
"You liked it last time, what's wrong with it now? Are you trying to be difficult? Maybe I should order for both of us," he said once after I didn't care for the way a dish was seasoned. Yes, I liked it at a different restaurant, but this place was new.
Soon, the verbal, emotional, and physical abuse began to weave itself into our relationship seamlessly. Not like every day was horrible, there were still reminders of that person I thought he was.
One of the things that he constantly belittled me for was my enjoyment of erotic romance novels. You know the ones. One evening I was sitting by the firepit drinking wine and reading while waiting for him. When he arrived, he blew up at me. That night, every one of my books ended up in the fire while I sat there helpless to stop him. Tears stained my cheeks.
"Ladies don't read this trash," he yelled.
That was my impetus to switch to e-books, and when I went looking, I discovered this amazing site. Suddenly I had access to a smorgasbord of erotic stories. I focused on the Romance category back then, and never bothered to venture into the Forums.
Then one evening at a neighborhood party, things started to get heated between Ernie and me. I tried to leave through the privacy fence gate beside the house, but he followed, pressing the argument. As I reached for the gate latch, he grabbed my arm and spun me around before backhanding me across my face as he screamed, "You're not leaving me bitch!" The sudden twirl, coupled with the impact, knocked me off my feet. I cried out as I fell, and then everything went black, silent.
I woke up in a hospital bed with a bandage on my head and my right arm in a cast. The nurse told me I had a concussion from striking my head on one of those damn garden gnomes, and my arm was fractured from trying to break my fall. She said I had a woman waiting to see me, "She says her name is Maureen."
Maureen is my best friend in the whole world. She and her husband, Rick, treat me like family. I've known them for years. I asked the nurse to show her in. When she entered the room, the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. Apparently, I was a mess.
"Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?"
"Like I went one round with Rocky Balboa," I chuckled, but then groaned from the pain it caused in my head.
"Well, you don't have to worry about Rocky coming for you again. The bastard is in jail."
"What? Why? It was my fault, I made him angry. Besides, no one saw anything."
"That's what he thought too. He tried to say that you tripped. He didn't know about the security cameras. They caught the whole thing. The police have the video. One of the officers told me that she thinks Ernie will be going away for a while."
"No, Maureen, he's a good man. He's just passionate."
"He's a piece of SHIT! Don't you talk nice about that bastard! You deserve so much better, Grace!"
"He loves me," I protested. "He says so."
"Gracie baby, he loves controlling you. The man doesn't understand how to love a woman. He's broken, and he broke my best friend in the world. I won't let you go back to him, even if it means I have to quit my job and follow you everywhere. I'll be your constant companion, and I'll kill him if he tries to contact you again."
"Oh, Maureen. You won't kill him."
"I will," she said, setting her jaw. The look on her face told me she might follow through with the threat. You see, Maureen had been in the Navy Reserve Officer Training Program in college and selected the Marine option. She graduated as a Second Lieutenant in the Marine Corps and served four years on active duty. She was fully capable of taking down Ernie, but you'd never know it by her feminine looks. The military was where she met Rick. He was a defense contractor.
She changed the subject to shopping, one of our favorite subjects. She sat with me for an hour, at which time, Rick arrived, and about thirty minutes later, the nurses soon shooed them out so I could rest.
I was in the hospital for a couple of days for observation and tests, and then I was approved for release. That morning, I had a visitor, a woman that I didn't know. She was the prosecutor. I learned that Ernie had been arraigned on Monday and charged with Aggravated Domestic Assault. He was denied bail, and she said he would get at least three years in prison, the State minimum, but likely more.
"Did you know he's done this before?" she asked.
I was horrified. I'd been dating an abuser and didn't know it. Didn't want to see it.
"No," I responded, looking out the window to hide my shame.
"He's never been convicted because the women wouldn't cooperate. This time, we have the video, which clearly shows that you were trying to flee when he attacked you. You have the right to face him in court, but I don't need you to be there, and I don't need your cooperation. This time he's going away, for as long as I can convince a judge to sentence him for."
She handed me her business card. "I wish you all the best. Call me if you need anything, even to learn his case's progress."
Full healing took time—months in fact, and Maureen was always there. She checked in on me, spent hours helping around the house, and took me to my physical therapy appointments. For the first few weeks after my release, she and Rick opened their home to me, and once I felt up to returning to work she drove me. Other friends pitched in as well. Ironically, it took this horrible event to awaken me to the fact that I had an amazing support system, and was surrounded by love.
During my recovery, we had quite a few long talks about my choice of men. I was ready to give up and commit myself to being single. Maureen would have none of that talk.
"Grace, one day someone will walk into your life and make you feel like you're in one of those Country love longs you listen to. Don't give up before he rides up on his stallion," she scolded.
I agreed not to rush into life alone, but I was skeptical about her dream of my Cowboy Charming. During all this, I met many friends of theirs, some that I'd never met before. There was a friend of theirs who stopped by often. Since Maureen was helping me so much, more of the household chores fell to Rick, so their friend Deacon stopped by to help him with the more "manly" household tasks. He mowed, took out the trash, and kept the pool clean; things Rick normally did. Deacon acknowledged me, but if we spoke, it was short sentences. He had a gorgeous smile and was tall and muscular. He wore a quiet air of confidence and something else—an aura of protectiveness. When I asked Maureen about him she said he had been in the Air Force. "He recently got out of a bad relationship, just like you," she added.
The day finally arrived for my cast to come off. Maureen had planned to take me, but neither she nor Rick could get off work.
"Hun, I'm sorry about this. I'll pay for your Uber. I feel bad about having to cut out on you," she said.
"It's okay. You guys have lives to live, and you've been more than generous. Once I get this cast removed, I can do more for myself. I plan to move back to my place."
"Don't be in a hurry, you're not a burden."
"I can take you," a deep voice interrupted. It was Deacon, he'd been standing in the doorway.
"Eavesdropping?" Maureen asked with a scowl.
"Just waiting for a break in your conversation. I'm done cleaning the pool, so I'm going to swim if that's okay."
"Yes, of course," Maureen replied.
"My offer stands, Grace," he said as he turned around and walked away.
Maureen and I just looked at each other and she raised an eyebrow. I shook my head no.
"I'm not ready to be alone with a man, particularly with one I don't know, one trained for violence."
"You listen to me, Gracie Jean, there is no safer place than in the company of Deacon. I once trusted him with my life, and here I am."
"Sounds like a story that I want to hear."
"No, you don't. Deacon and I survived a very bad situation together. We have a bond that will never be broken. You think I was a badass. Deacon was the badass that badasses called for help."
Tears crept from the corners of my eyes. I was reminded that there are things about my dearest friend that she will never share with me. I felt cheated in a way, and then I felt embarrassed for feeling that way.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," I sobbed.
"Don't cry, Hun. You aren't going to upset this old Marine."
She smiled and hugged me, I felt so safe in her arms.
"Listen, you need to get your life back. That bastard robbed you of your naivete and ability to trust. Deacon is the kind of person who can help you reclaim what was stolen. He sees you as an injured baby bird, something that needs protection. Woe be to any fool who would bring you harm while Deacon is near."
"You make it sound like he'd be my bodyguard."
