As I lay awake in the darkness of his room, I prayed for daylight, when I would have my car keys returned on the premise of going to work. My abuser needed to keep up appearances and didn’t want to risk being discovered. If I failed to report to work that morning, alarm bells would ring, and questions would be asked.
As I watched the clock pretending to sleep, he began to force himself upon me. I froze, terrified. I didn’t want the physical abuse to start again and feared what he would do if I resisted.
Perhaps by the grace of God, it is in these moments that your mind sometimes disconnects from your body, either to accept your fate or save yourself from it. I traveled to people and places far away from reality. Fleeting thoughts of childhood and bicycles, open fields and wilderness, birds and butterflies all filled my head. My reality blurred with my subconscious thoughts, fighting to protect my mind from truth and fact.
So, I lay there frozen in my own fear, numb but weeping silently, and prayed again for sunrise.
I never said, “No,” or tried to stop him. I was too fearful. More than 20 years later, this continues to be my biggest shame.
The entire relationship with my abuser lasted only six weeks.
