"Is there a possibility you could be pregnant by this guy" said the LAPD officer as they finished putting up their photography equipment from taking record of my injuries. I froze for a moment, not realizing that in that moment I was with his child. I said no firmly, as they gave me a perplexed look. They thought he was my pimp. They thought I was a poor manipulated little girl that got beat up by her pimp. I still had a light tremor of shock as I realized he was probably in jail hating me more, planning the next way to torture me mentally. The police left and I was left with the most disgusting silence. My phone was shattered into pieces, my only communication, and here I was in a hotel room that was only paid till the morning. My only hope of making it home was locked up because of me. I wept and I regretting letting the hotel call the police.
Morning came fast and checkout time came faster. I had spent all night trying to guess his phone password that they left so I could find a way home, but nothing. I gathered all my things and left the hotel and phoned my mother from the nearest pay phone. She too was helpless and I was lost in la with no phone and all my things. I dragged my luggage to a hotel I'd stayed in before when we fought and they allowed me to store my things. I wept some more at the situation and for the fear of sleeping outside tonight in the middle of a city that could swallow me whole.
Why would he do this? Why would he beat me and drag me outside? Why couldn't we just hold eachother and console eachother for one night? I couldn't accept what had happened. I'd never felt so dead. I walked up and down the streets as if I was a junkie here like the rest, and people I approached viewed me the same. I asked everyone who's energy I felt contained kindness if I could use their phone to ask my followers if anyone was in la. Finally a young black man stopped and allowed me to not only use his phone, but he fed me and never left my side until I was safe.
By the greatness of a higher power a women named Sara from my Instagram took me into her home and her heart. She let me have her coach and listened to all I'd been through in the last days with the person I was in love with. She told me how she had went through the same things but she sympathized with both parties, deeming my decision to let the hotel call the police a bad one. I agreed now that I seen the consequences. He was charged with felony domestic abuse because my injuries were visible. I never felt so disconnected from him then I did in this moment, and it was killing me. My mind was tearing itself apart.
I couldn't comprehend that he didn't love me and never had. I couldn't comprehend that in seconds I was helpless in la. By myself. I had depended on the kindness of strangers. When he got out of jail he didn't even look for me. He didn't make sure I got home or that I was breathing.
This was the beginning of the turmoil long downward spiral ending. The disconnection never was repaired. When I made it home safely and was left with just my mind. I was torn apart and as if things couldn't sink any lower weeks later 2 lines on a pregnancy test bonded us for the rest of our lives.