No matter how hard I try, I can’t turn my brain off. The moment I lay down the thoughts invade. Every time I think I can relax; he pops back up. Time and again, I only find a momentary reprieve from the fear. Sleep comes but in short bursts merely because exhaustion wins. Even with the protective order in place, he won’t leave me alone. Why can’t he let me go?
How many times do I need to move? How many new phone numbers do I need to get? Why can’t he stop contacting me? I gave up on having a traditional phone plan and only buy pay-as-you-go phones now. Getting a new number is much faster this way.
One thing I have learned more than anything, when becoming someone’s target, there is no way to outsmart them. Trying to hide where I moved to, I gave up my SUV that I loved. I tried using a ride share to get to and from work for a while, but that got expensive. Now, though, I can’t buy another car. I’ve done that three times, losing money each time. I knew it was a gamble since he knows where I work. He probably stakes out the parking lot here, even though, I tried carpooling, parking down the street and walking, and even working remote for as long as possible. It doesn’t matter what I do, he finds me. The only thing left is to give up the life I have here and go back to Arkansas.
I have almost six years with the agricultural division of Sampson County. When I lost Jonah, I found solace in work. Starting as a secretary and taking night classes at the community college, I found my passion. Finally, I am putting down roots in this department. I could see myself staying here until retirement. I love my job, I love working under Sara, and I love the area. The farmers are all friendly and genuinely dedicated to producing quality crops for consumers. If only Brett would let go, then I could have a good life right here with Justice. I don’t want to give this up.
Since deciding to walk away from my failed marriage to Brett, I have moved seven times, gotten countless phones, and bought just to turn around and sell three vehicles. This is the fourth car since leaving him. When does the chaos end? I know he follows me from work and that’s how he learns the cars. In order to stop him from finding me, I have to give up my job. How can I do that? What will I do to support myself and my son? From work he follows me to find my residence. It’s all a domino effect. Following me is scary, but the constant calls drive me to the brink of losing my mind. Turning them off only halts the calls for me to sleep, but I awake to the messages, thousands of them if I were to add them up from when I left. It doesn’t matter that I continually change my number, he figures it out every damn time. I think that rattles me more than being followed. The cell phone numbers, that is. I haven’t figured his source yet. How can he always feel five steps ahead of me?
Isolation. Is that his goal?
Probably.
The first time I left, I was given a brochure from the hotel clerk for a women’s shelter. I went to speak to an advocate who told me, control is the objective for men like Brett. The women’s center is an amazing place for knowledge. They help so many women, some of them just like me. However, they can’t control the significant other. For some women, once they leave, the men move on to their next target or focus on whoever they have on the side. For women like me, the danger only amps up. Except I didn’t know leaving put me in more danger. I thought the space would save me. I wanted him to realize he hurt me, and things were over between us.
In the beginning, I felt strong. I thought I could do this. Every step of the way he’s managed to crush my spirit more and more.
When he found me at the shelter, he made it clear someone had to pay for my transgressions. At first, I didn’t think he would hurt someone else. Now, I know differently. Tina and her daughter, two-year-old Chloe shared a room with me and Justice. It took Brett three weeks to sort my schedule. It was only five weeks after I left when Tina was found in a dumpster behind the diner she was working at. Strangled with military grade paracord tied with a specific knot mostly used by special forces. Her ex was a felon, not a skilled soldier. He hadn’t served a single day in his life to the military. While I couldn’t prove it was Brett, my gut tells me it was a message for me. His response to me leaving was clear and I knew it. I couldn’t put any other women and their kids in danger.
Using savings, I took what I could and got a place for me and Justice. A small apartment, but in a nice area. I thought neighbors were the way to go, like a deterrent. I wouldn’t get close to anyone, but there would be someone around most of the time. People to hear me yell, cry, or him acting out gave me a false sense of security. He still came, he still got to me. Waiting like a thief in the night, he got inside and sat comfortably while I was at work. Patiently, he hid in my closet until I got Justice to bed. That night was the longest night of my life. I didn’t think I would make it to the next morning.
Somehow, after taking what he wanted from my body, he jolted from the trance he was in and left. Honestly, my saving grace was him hearing Justice wake up with a nightmare. When Justice cried out for me, it was like Brett snapped back to reality. My son most likely saved my life and his own that night. For every second that ticked by, his anger grew worse, and I truly thought I would die.
Moving again, didn’t do anything but buy me about two months before he found me again. The punishment gets worse for me every single time and the legal restrictions on him don’t hold him back. No matter how many charges I press, nothing stops him. Even spending a seventy-two hour hold for violating the protection order for the third time didn’t deter him.
He is going to kill me.
The cops say they are doing everything allowable by law. Which means until he kills me, they can’t do anything. He gets locked up and within twenty-four to seventy-two hours, he is back out roaming the streets looking for any signs of me and my son.
I rub my neck as the tingling builds inside me remember the pressure of his hands around my flesh. The intense burn of gasping for air all comes back in a flash.
When does his power over me, over my life, end? When can I be free of this?
In the beginning it wasn’t like this. The monster he is, I didn’t see it. Whether I was blinded by love or grief I still don’t know. What I do know, in my weakest of moments, he took hold of my heart, my emotions, and I fell into his trap.
I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again. The pieces broken inside of me from Brett, the trust shattered in my own self is gone. I chose him. I did this to myself, and I took my son along for the ride. Mom guilt eats at me more than the fear. I brought this on my kid.
That single decision changed the entire trajectory of my life. More than one choice landed me here. When Jonah died, maybe I should have moved back to Arkansas.
If there is a higher power out there, what is the purpose in my pain? I can’t help but think that over and over. Why me?
My office line rings, taking me out of my self-loathing. “Sampson County, Josie Schneider,” I answer before being cut off.
“Puppet, I really despise that you keep his name.”
I gasp having him calling me once again has too many emotions flooding me. Frustration and anger build taking over the fear inside me. Rather than hang up, the words tumble out of my mouth. “His name is my name, my son’s name. It belongs to me for life. You said you understood, but that was a lie. You were his friend. You don’t get to taint his memory. Do what you want, say what you want about me, but Jonah is off limits, Brett.”
“Oh my, my, my, she has fire. I miss that. The fight, the fucking, and the fight some more,” he taunts me, and I want to vomit. “I love when you fight under me, Puppet. The way your body feels alive with every move. The way I can watch your eyes widen in fear, your pulse quickens as you gasp for air. Will you beg, Puppet? Will you beg me, please?”
I feel the bile rising. Too many nights, no matter how much I tried not to engage, tried to do all the things to keep his anger at bay, and how many nights I lost the battle. He relished an argument, the more riled he got, the more it turned him on. How can hurting someone you claim to love turn you on? I’ll never understand it.
That is Brett. Everything was a fight including sex. Early on, he could be gentle. Although, I must admit the memories of those times fade with every bruise he leaves on my flesh. The kind, giving lover didn’t last, though, and soon the only way for him to finish was to inflict some kind of pain to my body. The sweet man wanting to be my rock was nothing more than a façade. A mirage of his creation, I must admit he played it well. The slow stoking of the fire in time was a blazing inferno of Hell.
My personal Hell.
From moment to moment, I don’t know what will come next. Even now, I don’t live with him, but I still can’t predict what may come. When we shared a residence, the only place I felt safe was here at work especially towards the end. Except with every phone call he’s robbing me of this too. No place is safe, I have to accept it. The cops can’t keep me safe, the judge, the paperwork, it means nothing to him. I can’t keep me safe; he finds me and hurts me every time.
“This line is monitored, Brett. You aren’t supposed to be calling me,” I attempt reminding him of our court order of protection while also hoping to diffuse the entire situation. “You don’t want to have to go in front of the judge again. I don’t want that for you either.”
