I guess I could sit here and sugar coat this. Throw on some glitter and a smile and say that it happened to another woman. To someone who was able to bounce back and not look back. Not be plagued by nightmares, Not be someone who has learned how to hide.

A great deal of things turned my life into a hermit like existence, but let's go with the easier subject first. What caused me to start my bad decisions.

Mom tried her best to find love. And probably the third husband is when things grew really bad. He made us many promises. All which turned out to be lies. He made his life seem so easy and care free. That we wouldn't have to worry. She did what she could. They married and she was happy. This happiness lasted a week. A cycle of verbal abuse came to be. He would belittle her, call her names and do the same with me. She always got the biggest brunt and I was always so scared. He'd threaten to kick us out a couple of times. We moved houses and it seemed to change the dynamics. My brother went into the USMC, and I had high hopes he would come back to protect us.

But it was just she and I against our abuser. He would constantly move out, cool down a week and come straight back. Always barging into the house when he's on the week out. Expecting to find Mom with someone else. ALWAYS assuming she was unfaithful (Like him). The abuse was so bad that I would blare music to drown it out, wearing headphones. Always saying I wouldn't put myself into that same situation.

But yet... Among that verbal abuse and utter disappointment in my brother came what I thought was my salvation. He introduced me to one of his fellow Marines and I was in love. He was older, with dark hair and beautiful skin. I really should have seen all the warnings. I had seen the beginning of a abusive cycle for years. Seen what it did to my mother. But yet... I ignored them. He seemed charming, older and wanting to be with me. ME the mousey quiet girl who no one noticed in school. I thought he moved mountains and I was willing to give up everything just to be with him.

Six months into the relationship I gave him my virginity. Under the assumption it was his first time also. After that first time, with all the blood and the panic and stress I wanted to take it back. He would be angry with me for the blood and for not wanting to have sex again with me. But it was something he constantly brought up. Making suggestions and guilting me.

I really should have known.

It would be months into the sexual side of the relationship before I began to see the lies. I was just another conquest. He told all his buddies in his battalion. My own BROTHER never defended me. Never told this vile man shut his mouth. Our sexual escapades became a joke to his friends. I would hear it when they visit and I would be embarrassed and disgusted. I not let him fuck me when I'm on my period? Heaven FORBID. I say I'm not in the mood? How inconsiderate of me.

I was getting angry with him for it all. Starting to fight back, wanting out of the relationship. He would say for a few weeks then leave for months. I would always be happy to see him and that would last for a couple of days. One summer stood out the most for me. He had come over and I wanted to go to the pool. I had dressed up in my favorite two piece and had a large shirt over it. He wanted to nap and I curled up with him. Asking him to just go swimming with me. That I wanted to be outside for a change and spend time with him.

But he wanted sex. I told him No. Soon he was on top of me and telling me to give in, make love to him. That I should because he came all this way. I plead and fought and he pulled my bottom down. He ignored my cries and still had sex with me. I was crying and telling him no and he wouldn't stop. Once he was done he kept saying he was sorry and I just cried and pulled my bottoms back up. I could feel something in my cracking apart and dying. I thought he would never take it from me. If I said no, it would be the end of it.

It turned into his favorite little habit. No asking,  Just a pull down of my pants, or panties or whatever and me just gritting my teeth and closing my eyes. I honestly thought I couldn't find anyone better. I made myself believe it was what I wanted. That I enjoyed the sex and I did my best to act like I did. It made me want to die all the time and I just wanted it to end.

It took me the summer after my graduation to finally free myself from him. I was smoking dope while he was deployed and it gave me the clarity I needed. He was abusing me, lying to me. Being a disease within my life.

I broke up with him over the phone. While he stood in a phone booth in Spain. He argued with me and told me how big of a mistake I was making. That I was breaking his heart. That he was two days away from coming to see me and we needed to discuss our relationship.

And I shot it all down. My soul was finally done cracking and dying over and over again. And once I hung up I cried for what it felt to be days.

And among this, my step father's abuse was still going strong. I had worked up the courage when he tried to choke Mom out and called the police on him. And I vowed it would be the last time he would ever try to hurt her. That it would be the last time anyone would hurt us.

When I chose to enlist, I had my full heart's intention to don the uniform and graduate. To come back home a strong willed female marine and destroy my step father. To beat him within a itch of his life and look down at him. Spitting out his teeth. To show him what fear was. But instead... I was still the one living in fear. That abusive Ex was still rearing his ugly head. Writing me in boot camp and telling me all those same promises. I was trying so hard and couldn't even pass the simplest I.S.T. I felt like a failure. But I kept trying and my soul kept giving up. Kept waking up and getting a instant panic attack.

I wanted to be a Marine so badly to destroy my step father. To protect my Mom and show my brother how much a coward he was. To show BOTH Of my brothers I was better than them.

I would return home four months later still recovering from a bout of Pneumonia that wouldn't go away. With a failure to adapt discharge and knowing I had a divorce court meeting to do with my mother. Granted I wasn't able to even get into training for the Marines, but I retained enough to show that abusive fuck of a step father I wasn't the push over anymore. I didn't raise my fists, I didn't cuss him out. I just sat with my Mom, the one person I decided was the most important person in my life and stared. I didn't look away, I didn't look at my feet. I just maintained my ground and so did she.

Mom had suffered YEARS of abuse. And finally, after all this time like me... She had enough. We sat in that court with our heads held high.

Our souls were fractured and destroyed. In thousands of pieces and barely held together by duct tape and hot glue. But we held on strong.