What if Junior had been with me that night? I am continuously assaulted by horrific visions of the men snatching me, Junior falling out of my arms, his tiny skull cracking open on the pavement. I have nightmares most nights. :(
How can I get over this? (Please don’t get any ideas about sending a shrink to my door)
I can’t go on like this. Something has to change. Every night when I go to bed, I tell myself that I need to snap out of this, for DJ at least, if not for myself. But when the morning comes, I do the same day all over again.
Rachel keeps telling me I need to move out of this house first, and I know she’s right. She also says I need to get formal custody in place and file for child support, but I don’t want anything from Dylan.
Ugh. :/
BTW, there’s all kinds of fancy cured meats and cheeses in these bags, I’m in heaven. Thanks again.
From: Randy Hawkins
To: Marissa Johnson
Date: 11:30 PM, January 29, 2011
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Stop sending us stuff
You're more than welcome.
My two cents: I’d definitely advise you to put a formal custody agreement in place, not only to protect yourself and your sanity,but also to ensure fair parenting time and responsibilities for both of you.
As for child support… it’s not about you needing things from him.
It’s about DJ being ENTITLED to that money; it’s his right, so don’t deny him that.
P.S. We should really start talking on the phone. It would be much more efficient than emailing back and forth, don’t you think?
From: Marissa Johnson
To: Randy Hawkins
Date: 02:17 PM, February 28, 2011
Subject: Long time no email
Hey…
I know you’re in PT so I can’t call you to vent, and I need to get this off my chest, like, right now.
I told you that Dylan was coming over today to get the last of his stuff. I heard a car outside and I looked through the window to check whether it was him.
He was in the car with Rebel. It was the first time I’d seen her since the night I was taken. My hands started to shake real bad. They were talking and she said something to which he responded by gently putting her hair behind her ear and I just…
I don’t even know.
It’s not that I was jealous or that I want him. It’s the tenderness and protectiveness towards her that kills me.
It’s like, here I am, the mother of his child (if nothing else!), and I’ve had this very traumatic thing happen to me, and it was (ina way) her fault, and yet she’s the one getting the gentle support and has everyone looking out for her!?
It’s so fucking unfair.
And then he stepped out of the car, took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders (?!?!?!) before heading towards the door, like he was preparing himself to face something unpleasant.
And that’s when it hit me: it’s me.
I’m the unpleasant thing.
