“There was this one time he didn’t let me talk. I tried to tell him how I felt and the only thing I felt like doing was to sink to the ground and disappear. I became invisible and the only thing I heard was screaming and in my face or in the distance a pointing finger. Always I was to blame. Every argument was my fault, which is what he always said. I started to believe him. If I hadn’t done this or that maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so mad, maybe he hadn’t yelled, maybe he hadn’t hit me. But I deserved that purple-lish bruise, that’s what I thought. Then he got home one night and I was tired. He fell asleep in a second, and after a few hours, in the middle of the night I felt something on my back. “”common baby come to papa””, “what?”- I thought. And I said those two words: “I’m tired”. If I had only said “ok”. That is what I thought he wouldn’t have jumped on me, hurt me, mutilated me, and punched me. He wouldn’t have called me a bad woman that didn’t want to perform her “”duty””. But then he almost didn’t remember what he did until he saw my face. It took him a week to take me to a restaurant and mention that he was sorry it “”ended up in that”” but that I had to understand, I was doing wrong things and it was his duty to correct my actions. I always forgave him and came back. I was the one who was always wrong. That’s what I really believed. And since I started dating him I didn’t talk to my friends and family very much. What was I suppose to do? I was completely alone. I felt alone. And even if a bruise or insult became an occasionally, sometimes a regular, accessory; at the end, there he was saying he was the only one that loved me in this world; being there, with flowers, in a restaurant. I learned the meaning of “the look” when I did something wrong and watch out for it. I had a collection of long sleeve shirts to cover my arms and sun glasses to cover my eye circular man-made make-up. I could have end it, could have stopped it, but I always thought it was my fault and never looked for help. I couldn’t have ended once and for all, but domestic violence ended up with my life and today nobody remembers my name or my story.”

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Do something.
Did you know?

1/3 of American women and 1/4 of women worldwide will experience domestic/dating violence in their lifetime.

All the aggressor wants you to do it’s to keep quiet. Don’t become a victim of silence.

National Domestic Violence Hotline- in more than 50 languages available.
1−800−799−SAFE (7233)