Where the heart lies

Chapter 29

"Oh my gosh! He told you he loved you! What'd you do?" Teresa asks excitedly, as if my explanation of my journey is a telenovela playing out in front of her eyes. But before I can answer Rebecca chimes in, "Wait. He's not the one who abused you? So why is this important?" she lets out an exhausted sigh like she can't wait for me to be done with my story so we can get on to better things. When in reality we're all here to talk about our past, present and futures. Our group counseling sessions are not only meant to help us cope with the abuse we've all been through but to determine what it is that lead us to our unfortunate lovers whom took advantage of us and how we can move forward. We aren't victims. We are survivors. All of us. The ones who got out and the ones that are still fighting.

The thing that brings us here is that society tells you that if you let someone abuse you, put you down, put their hands on you or hold you hostage with control and money, that it's your fault. But everyone sitting in this room knows otherwise. We know that sometimes you have no where else to go because you have no family or friends, that the act that someone puts on can be so convincing that when you finally disclose your truth people don't believe you. That abuse doesn't just mean the bruises are left on the outside of your body. We know that sometimes they start out great and gradually put you down little by little until you believe you're worthless and don't deserve anything better. We know that there's always a story behind how it all happened and how, most of us, have gotten out.

I take a deep breath and shake my head, "No. Jesse isn't the one who abused me.", I turn to look at Teresa to answer her question, "I left. I was a coward". Her sorrowful eyes sting and I can't help the tears that start to build in my eyes. I haven't felt the pain of what I did that day in so long. After that night my whole life changed. Jesse told me he loved me and I fled. I grabbed my clothes and ran out the door crying while he was in the bathroom. He texted and called me for days on end after that but it wasn't until a few weeks later that I had responded.

I'm sorry. I can't do this. You're my best friend and I can't lose you. Please don't hate me. Was the text I left him. His simple response broke my heart even more. Never. The truth was, I was madly in love with Jesse. A part of me thinks I always will be, but that night everything hit me. After I lost everyone he was all I had left and I didn't want to do anything to lose him too. Ironic isn't it because after I rejected him it was like we weren't the same. We drifted apart and I ended up losing him anyway. I started drinking more and more, staying out whenever I could and hanging out with Kennedy every night. He would take me out for drinks and dinner, lather me in compliments and fuck me every single time we were together.

The first time caught me by surprise. We had both been drinking patron and his fingers started grazing my leg as we talked. Which then turned into him leaning closer and pulling me in for a kiss, when he asked if we could go to his car my stomach tightened in a knot but I swallowed another shot and let him lead the way. We ended up having sex right there, in the club parking lot, in his car. He drove me home telling me he'd see me tomorrow and I took a hot shower and cried myself to sleep. The next couple of months went just the same. Kennedy would take me out for drinks, caress my body and we'd end up sleeping together.

After about five months of our routine Kennedy was pretty much living in my apartment with me. Walking me to my door, getting me inside so we could sleep together and then staying the night when he didn't work. It wasn't until month six of us being together that he first put his hands one me. Jesse had texted me after three months of silence, saying he was going to be in town and he wanted to see me. Kennedy caught wind of my smile while we were sitting at the countertop and snatched the phone from my hand. I had tried to explain that Jesse and I were just friends and I'd known him practically my whole life but it didn't matter.

The next thing I knew the phone was being hurdled at my face. It just missed me but looking back sometimes I wish it didn't. Kennedy went on a rampage. Screaming and yelling. His face red with furry as he stomped on my phone, shattering it even more. As if the damage from it hitting the counter didn't already obliterate it, he wanted to showcase just how angry he was at me for attempting to see another man. He grabbed me by the throat, pushed me against the fridge and held me up high so that my feet were dangling.