I Hope You Remember, Because I Will, Forever

TRIGGER WARNING: This submission contains themes of violence, substance abuse, and sexual assault.

Don't you remember? The night that it happened, you were drinking. Honestly, you shouldn't have been drinking, you were underage. We were so young and in such a bad place overall; maybe that's what drove you. Regardless, you were drinking copious amounts of Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum. I will never forget that because it was your favorite.

Freshly married, I thought we were working toward the same goals, held the same ambitions, and were a united front. I was under the illusion that we were in love. When you were sober, we spoke of where we wanted to be and what we wanted our future to hold. In those moments, it appeared as if we were on the same page. That would all change when you started to drink. As you consumed one drink after another, any form of love or goodness would depart from you, only to be filled with darkness and malicious intent.

When it was time to go to bed for the evening, it was as if the very embodiment of evil took up residence within you. Not only could I sense it in the air around us, but I could see it in your eyes. There was no anger or love; you were completely devoid of emotion and humanity. All I could see as I stared into your eyes was a coldness that would make a serial killer weak and anxious. At that moment I knew I was in danger - I knew I was a target. However, I never would have been able to suspect what the upcoming onslaught would entail.

You wanted to have sex; you always wanted to have sex. On this night, I knew that it wasn't a good idea. You had consumed entirely too much alcohol, and I wasn't in the mood. Do you remember? You pushed me onto the bed and my blood ran cold. My body lay there frozen as my anxiety grew. I questioned myself, is this really heading in the direction that all of my senses are warning me that it is?

Without thinking I turned my head to the left as I peered into the pack-n-pay that contained our six-month-old son. To my relief, he was sound asleep. For all he knew, his world was safe, secure. It was there that I made a decision. Regardless of what was about to transpire, I would not cry out, I would not scream, and I would not make a sound.

I tore my eyes away from our son and turned over as I attempted to crawl away from you. That proved to be a mistake. I said no, and it meant nothing to you. I said stop, and you didn't stop. Do you remember? How could you forget? Maybe it was easy for you to push it out of your mind because you didn't have to look into my eyes.

When all was said and done, you laid down next to me without saying a word. To this day it baffles me how you were able to roll over and sleep effortlessly, peacefully even, after the crime you had just committed. As I silently cried to myself on and off all night, drifting in and out of consciousness, I came to the conclusion that you are what nightmares are made of. As horrific thoughts ran amuck in my head, I came to the realization that I had married a monster.

Years have passed, and to this day I still struggle because of that night and the nightmare that my life spiraled into. That night may have been the first time, but it certainly wasn't the last. I've had to overcome the all-encompassing feeling that the events that transpired over the course of our marriage were my fault. Was it my fault because I initially chose to stay? Was it my fault because I tried to convince myself that what transpired wasn't the big, ugly "R" word because we were married? Was it my fault because I tried to justify what he did to me because of what he experienced during his early childhood? Was it my fault that I stayed because I let him use God as a weapon to wield against me?

The answer is no. His actions were not my fault. I am only responsible for my own actions; his actions were out of my control. Even though I came to terms with that, I couldn't help but feel enraged that I let myself stay in that situation. It's a difficult place to be. You're angry at yourself for allowing such debasement to happen. You're angry at them for what they did to begin with. You're confused because you've been manipulated so much that you can't determine who was in the right or who was in the wrong. You feel like soap scum because being raped is like having your own body stolen from you. But I have learned that the horror story that was my life for that season doesn't define me and that I am the one that has the power to close that chapter indefinitely. I am the one that has the power to dictate my future moving forward, and so I have.

As the reader, you may be wondering what has become of our child. I am pleased to inform you that after several court battles and legal obstacles, he is now solely my son - I made sure of that. Just because he shares my perpetrator's DNA doesn't mean that he will be anything like his biological father. My ex-husband was raised in the darkness; my son is being raised in the light. His fate will have nothing to do with his father's influence because he is not allowed to be involved in his life in any capacity. I have moved forward with my son, and we have a beautiful life. He is smart, bright, loving, and kind, and I pray that he will never know what he unconsciously bore witness to. Even through prayer, counseling, and healing, the ugliness of what my ex-husband did has left scars that have faded but will probably never go away, and I've accepted that.

For example, I was raised in a family who never locked its doors when night fell. At my house, the doors are locked like a fortress, no matter the time of day, and the security system is always activated at night. I lawfully and legally take advantage of my right to bear arms because I'm fearful of the possibility that a day will come where Protective Orders aren't enough to keep his father away. Each and every day, I fight the demons that plague me because of his iniquitous actions. I will always fight to be better, healthier, and stronger because each day that I fight against him is a day that he loses his power over my son and me.

For those who have been through something similar, know that there is light waiting for you. You can heal, you can be happy again. You are still capable of love and joy. I may not know you, I may not see you, but I'm praying for you and I'm thinking about you. Always fight to see the light at the end of the tunnel, because I promise you that it is there, and living in it is the best way to make sure that the person who hurt you loses forever.