Voices Against Violence

Let me set the scene….I was 13.  It was a cool night.  We had been drinking and smoking pot.  It was me, my friend, her aunt and uncle.  I knew that her uncle had a temper and we had seen some hints that one day it may blow up…but i never thought i would be there.

He got angry with his wife over some meaningless thing.  She didnt bring the salt that he liked with his Bud Light.  and the fighting began.  I remember being terrified.  I didnt know what to do.  I was a child.

My friend and i went out there and tried to calm him down, get him another drink…anything we could do just to calm him down.  We tried to distract him, she threw herself between them….he just pushed her out of the way and slammed into me.  We both hit the floor.  On the way down i slammed my head into the island and my head started to bleed.  It was real.  I was now in that moment.  I was a victim.  To no avail he was raging, our attempts to calm him down and get him off of his wife were a failure.  He was now mad with all of us.  He started throwing old beer bottles into the walls, through the doors.  Screaming and letting us know that if he didnt get his way none of us were walking out of there….at least not alive.  He began to ruthlessly beat his wife and wouldnt let us leave the room.  He made us stay and watch as he Slammed her against the wall and then into the washer and dryer.  I remember be too scared to cry.  Just sitting shaking, knowing that there was no way i could stop this without getting harmed myself.

The blood was pouring out of her nose and out of my head.  But it was like we were stuck.  We couldnt do anything but watch.  In fear that our lives would be done.  At 13.

His 6′1″ frame against her 5′1″ frame.  The beating continued for what felt like an eternity.  In my head i know it was only 10 minutes.  His wife was laying on the floor.  I can remember it so clearly.  She was hudled in the fetal position with her stomach towards the washer and dryer in the hall.  She was yelling, pleading with him to stop.  That she was defeated and would do anything for it to stop.

I remember he calmly walked over to the couch.  Under the cushion is where he kept his revolver.  He walked over and pulled out his revolver and like times before.  He walked back over to her, but in passing us he waved the gun in our faces threatening to pull the trigger.  If we said anything or tried to stop him he would pull the trigger.  We watched him walk over to his wife who was on the floor, stand her up and hold the gun to her.  The look in his eyes was one i imagine the darkest person to ever have.  Once he stood her up he told her that if she ever fought him again, or didnt do what she knew was needed he would do it.  No excuses this time.

And in my gut, i know he was serious.  I know he would have.

He didnt do it that night, and i dont think he has done it, but the threat was there, and for me the threat was enough.

The terror…the disrespect for another humans life…a wife, a mother, an aunt….a person.

I remember in the moment the terror that wrapped us all in the apartment.  I felt stuck.  I felt alone.  I felt like i wanted to get out and didnt have the strength to stand up and run.

As i recall this sitting in a safe place years down the road my heart is racing and i am sickened.  The sheer abuse of another human being sickens my stomach and makes my heart race.

Things later calmed down and we all went to bed.  His wife took a shower and cleaned up.  Her eyes black and her nose visibly broken.  My head stopped bleeding and it was not a bad cut, just enough to bleed.

The next morning we all woke up and everything was normal.  Like that never happened.  Like the things that we saw and were a part of the night before was all a dream, rather a nightmare.  Like a movie that we watched.  But i had a headache and his wife was still bruised and sore.

But things were never the same.  I had looked into the eyes of darkness…i had seen pain, abuse, violence at 13.

His wife never said anything outside of the house or to authorities and i have since lost contact with them. But the days i think about them and this story i wish that she would have said something.  I wish that i would have said something….maybe it would have stopped for her.  Maybe the one place she was supposed to feel safe might become safe to her.

Sadly, most of these situations dont end like this.  A lot of them end in death, arrests or long drawn out court cases. I write this not to talk about the things that i have been through but to show that even people you may not know have a tie to domestic violence.  It can effect people all around you…and they may just be living in silence.

The Women’s Fund of Birmingham is taking today, October 7th to ask bloggers to blog about domestic violence…to raise awareness about this issue and help them raise money to help their cause.

I would love for you to click over to their site, see what they do…donate if you can.

If you can, there will be live interviews and such if you click here between 3-7:30PM (Central Time)

I will let you know if there are any more events and interviews you can watch tomorrow via twitter…so if you dont follow me you can follow me here.

Have you or anyone you known been directly effected by domestic violence?