The roles we play

This girl, she always praised him made him look as best she could. It was me—I’m this girl. It sounds clichè; in the most ridiculous way. I look back over social media now, you wouldn’t know a thing except how wonderful he was. I did too good at covering it up on social media; kind of like covering up bruises in real life. 

Three years have passed now since I left. Domestic violence is traumatic they tell us. What they don’t tell us is the abuse that happens after you leave as he desperately tries to keep control over you, as he moves on quite smoothly with a woman he met while you were still there. How does one even do that? Being the villain while being the hero to someone new? Unfortunately, hindsight is more of a jerk than he is. I know exactly how one does it because although he wasn’t married when we started dating he was newly separated, needing a place to live. He did the same thing and I put myself in that role of making him look great. I am not sure if it was to protect him or to make myself believe it. 

Either way we live the roles that we are given. 

Which one is he? Hero or villain. She would say hero. Obviously he was that at the beginning for me as well, and now he’s content to play the villain. Let’s be honest, he’s been playing the villain for a long time. Isn’t the villain someone who lies though and fakes who they really are until you’re in their grasp? 

Is his role what we see him as or who he really is?

He kicked us out because we needed to leave; sold our belongings, and stalked us. We all know a hero doesn’t do that. He was investigated and found to be charged with a crime. It then changed to hero and victim. 

Somehow people felt sorry for him, because heroes don’t do that sort of thing. I was painted as the villain. I never thought fighting for life and recovery would be seen as villainous. 

Meanwhile, she made him look wonderful, loving, empathetic to animals. Never mind he threw my dog across a room, and threatened to throw a puppy down the stairs. 

He reinvented himself as a great man, good father, and friend to all.

He is once again, cast as the hero. That alone makes me scared. He could do pretty much anything and he believed. He is portrayed as kind and a poor victim. Meanwhile, I’m a military widow who must be crazy to make up these lies. 

Today, I have to face him in court. One last court session to organize child support. He’s tried his absolute best to make me look insane; meanwhile, she has been stalking my child and signing affidavits of where she is and isn’t. I’m definitely the crazy one. 

The clock in my truck hit 8:50 with what felt like a loud boom. I started my insecure walk into the courthouse as the rain clouds finally gave way to a steady rain. My heart beat loudly as I approached the doors. 

There he was staring me down as I avoided his eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that spent more nights than not finding new ways to torture me. As much as I tried to avoid, I saw her smirk at my dropped head. Most court sessions a domestic violence worker attended court with me. This time; my last time, I wanted to prove to myself I could do it alone. Boy! Was I ever regretting that now!

“All stand”

We stood for the judge to enter the room. 

“You may be seated”

I carefully sat as though the chair might burst into flames. 

“Ok. I have reviewed the documents. It is clear you’re client needs to start paying child support and must do so immediately. There is also a question of spousal support.”

I didn’t dare look at him, but I’m sure the judge could see the relief in my eyes. 

We do have one thing in question. The respondent feels that the child isn’t living with the mother according to the affidavit provided.

I stayed silent. 

It was all I could do not to react. The affidavit was the one she signed. 

“You can be questioned up here or we can redo another hearing to cover this”

I scareamed inside. Another hearing? So I can submit an affidavit and they can use up more time to try to make me look like a liar. 

“Your Honour, I would like to take care of this today.”

He looked taken back. 

“Are you sure? Anything you say is on record and could be brought back to you later on.”

“I stood up, “Your Honour, I would prefer to do it today.”

As I carefully, and painfully sat down, he said “please step up to the stand”

I walked up careful not to look at him. I couldn’t allow him to drain my confidence. His lawyer came up. She was aggressive, but at the same time I sensed she knew he was lying. It probably didn’t help he had already been caught multiple times. 

She started with her questions. As I had expected they were quite aggressive, but I stayed perfectly calm and very careful with my words. I knew my best bet was to just be honest. I explained the concept of support workers for special needs and finally when I was done. The judge interrupted her. 

“I am satisfied with these answers and won’t explore this accusation any further” she sat down. I carefully walked back to my seat, where he proceeded to dictate his terms of finances to the lawyer. 

“All rise”

The judge left the room. 

Ok now I have to get out of here quickly. I squeezed past some chairs, I couldn’t help but notice their unhappy faces. I walked a little lighter out to my car, as I smiled feeling the sun slowly peeking through as it grazed my face. Some days you have to take the small wins and those small reminders of who you really are. 

Their faces flashed over in my memory, I knew quite well the harassment wouldn’t end with this. The future would prove that right. He, or should I say they would go on to make sure he looked great in the public eye. It would also prove to show his other personality slowly take over while she praised him non stop. The cycle of violence doesn’t favour you because you once stood up for him. 

I would continue to be retraumatized by him this villain cast continuously as the hero. My memory, however would also hold on to this day. The day I was brave enough to go up against him in court and won. The day I knew that I wasn’t perfect but didn’t deserve the post abuse I received. Rebuilding my life would take time.