His Eyes

Chapter 1

It had been three months since my life had been turned upside down by having my husband's over-involved parents insert themselves into my life. They never liked me, I knew that but I never imagined the lengths they would go to try and get rid of me. I suffer with major depressive disorder as well as bipolar disorder, and up until the moment they called requesting a meeting with only my husband, I had been exceptionally stable given my incredibly difficult childhood.

Molested as a child by my father, run over in a hit-and-run car accident at ten years of age, ostracized by my peers for my post-accident appearance,  date-raped at seventeen, used and beaten by men ever since due to my lack of self esteem stemming from all of it, forced into an unwanted abortion at nineteen by a narcissist of grand proportion who enjoyed choking me during sex, addicted to drugs and alcohol due to self-medicating for undiagnosed mental issues along with ADHD. And that was only the first twenty years of my life.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a victim. Sure, I lived the first half of my life believing I was, but one day I woke up and realized, wallowing in self-pity only made matters worse. No one cared about my problems or the reasons I felt unending shame for merely being alive. No, the world was a tough place and if I wanted to survive, I had to toughen up. I had to let all of the terrible go and choose to live in hope that the future could be different. Even for someone like me.

"Why do they just want to see you?" I asked Jon. He was a good man, but not one who was able to show much emotion. Asperger's had stolen that from him at birth, a fact I hadn't realized until ten years into our marriage. I had always assumed his lack of attention to me was due to him not really loving me.  No one had ever really loved me, so it made sense to me that he didn't.

To be honest, all I've ever wanted in life is to be loved. Loved for me. Looked at like I'm special. Treated like my feelings actually matter in some way.  Seen. Yes, seen for who I am and accepted even in all my brokenness. Hugged tightly, kissed gently, cared for. Genuinely cared for. 

"I'm not sure. But I'm going to head over. I'll see you in a bit." Jon grabbed his keys and headed toward the door to the garage.

I glared across the room knowing this moment was a game changer. "If you go, it won't be good. I just know it."

His brow creased. "Why would you say that?"

I knew. I knew deep down inside, this secret meeting was about me. I shrugged.

"Do you not want me to go?" he asked with a hint of irritation.

I didn't, but was unable to say it. While Jon was a good man, he also had some major control issues. Me telling him what to do, or not do would no doubt start an argument. And our arguments of late had not been fun. They usually digressed into him calling me a 'crazy bitch' which would then turn me into one. From there it would go physical, usually ending with me crying on the bathroom floor wishing for death.

Crazy. It was the worst thing anyone could ever say to me. It hurt more deeply than the bruises our fights would leave behind. It was an easy way to bring me to my knees and destroy any sense I might have about me.

"It's fine," I said holding my chin up high. "Just don't expect it to be anything but nasty shit about me."

He laughed dismissively. "You are so paranoid. Why would you think this is about you?"

I knew though. I knew.

Jon returned a few hours later with a look on his face I will never forget. My stomach turned as dinner fought to stay in my belly.

He stood squarely before me, blocking the television. His jaw clenched. "You were right. It was about you and—"

I sat forward, trying to prepare myself for what was about to come, but nothing could have made me ready for the next words I heard. The words that broke my spirit, anguished my soul, and started an emotional decline like I had never experienced before in my life.