First posted: 09 April 2011
"What the hell are you doing? Still waiting? What for? Is he supposed to hurt you badly, so that you need a recovery at the hospital? You want your head badly injured by his fury? Are you going to let it happen? Your head pushed against the sharp edge of something laying around? If you were in my shoes, the friend who listened to you crying, begging for an help or, better, if you were in your mom's shoes what do you think you would say? How much angry could you be knowing what's happened? And are you thinking to come back to him? Are you crazy?"
"Yeah, I know but if he does it again, I swear, I'll leave him!" I reply sadly.
"That's not the first time you tell me that!" the cold and serious voice becomes quiter: "If you don't really want to leave him, he'd better consult a psychologist about this problem and in the meanwhile…don't date him! He's disturbed... unstable... am I wrong or he also scared you more than once placing his feet on the window's balcony, risking to fall down, and threatening you saying he should commit suicide if you were living him!?"
It's not poetic as it may sound. My words too delicate... softer than the true facts. They analyse the facts, they interpret them, perhaps they even judge their sequence but my words could never succeed in describing the sound of a mute cry sprung by a feeling. They are doomed to fail in this vain attempt.
How can I explain the violence? How can I recreate the same atmosphere, made of fear and instinct, which you are forced to inhale during those rabid moments?
A pleasant and quite day had passed by and in the tranquillity of an instant the mists of a primordial anger have risen again... My instinct can perceive that rage asleep inside him, so destructive and resentful: then a sudden sensation rapes me, the dense warmth of boiling blood running into my veins, just like caffeine, a thrill of an hallucinated waking up; a weird pressure is burdening my breast, as if something was spreading an ulcer there; my head knows what's going on: tense and empty and fully aware of what he is going to do; my head is inviting me to throw myself against that person, unable to understand my feelings, that little woman who's accepting my words without listening to. A passive human being deeply concentrated on herself. I don't exist.
Her innocent eyes on me: it's disgusting. It is upsetting me. Mocking and laughing at me, on my back, that fucking witch!
A mix of feelings inside: I can touch them, they make me afraid. He could react to them. I'm trembling. My muscles are strained to an unbearable level and my breath is congested: he gets up from the chair and he comes near, approaching me.
I had just given him a bad reply without caring about it. I didn't pay attention, made a mistake, a foolish reply, given with no offence, just an excessive tone: "Don't piss me off" I said "come on, let me use my computer quietly, I don't wanna listen to you now!"
Stupid little girl who does not pick her vocabulary with selective and polite manners: I should have guessed the consequences! It was clear enough from my past experiences that he would be furious but I couldn't help pronouncing those single syllables with my fucking mouth. What a silly fault of me!
He's really angry, shouting at, calling me bitch. I knew it. His voice is muffled. I cannot follow what he is saying. Every single cell of my body is trembling. I can feel it: I'm paralysed.
He grabs my arm and he turns it up. Every second his grasp is getting stronger. Am I screaming now? My back is hurting. What is he doing? I cannot understand what is really happening. His hands are grabbing and crushing me, injuring my skin. I can hear my own screeching voice crying for pain. Tears are falling down but I don't feel pain anymore: it's my head, everything is concentrated there. I don't exist anymore. No feelings, nothing. It's like watching me from outside without any clue of what is going on. I can see that girl trying to free herself from his hands using her instinct and her own fear; in her eyes I can read the hope: he'll calm down in a while. I don't know how, I don't know why but he stops, he pushes me outside the house and he closes the door in front of me.
Finally he stopped.
I can breathe again. Now I can feel my tears flowing and my head beating. My skin is burning. The beating of his heart is becoming slower.
I call a friend with my mobile. She can hear me crying:
"Are you fine?" she's worried.
"He did it again. He hit me again. I can't decide what to do. He locked me out. I've got no money. I dunno where to go. It's four o'clock in the morning. What can I do? Please, tell me what should I do!" I am speaking very fast, nearly without a pause.
" Accuse him, call the police. They will provide help and he will be charged with committing violence against you." then she adds: "You can stay at my place"
"I won't accuse him!" I moan. Just finished the sentence and I hear his voice calling me, begging for apologies: "What can I do? Tell me what. I don't know what to do, help me. He's here. He wants to bring me back!"
"No, no and no. You come to my house, immediately. Don't do stupid things, please. Leave him now!" she's worried for me, I can distinguish her concerned tone, she's nervous. She doesn't know what's really happened. She doesn't know that I am the only one to blame if he reacts this way. I'm sure my friend can hear his voice - through the phone line - imploring me to come back; maybe she thinks he's behaving like a cat mewing, in order to get food but he's not: he's really regretting for what he did.
"You did it again. You promised to me... not to do it again. Never!"
"Sorry hun, I didn't want to" he is crying "You know: sometimes you lose control and you say and you do things you really don't mean to. Forgive me, please. Don't leave me, please. I cannot live without you"
"I'm leaving"
"No, please, do not, don't go. Do it and I will die. I'll kill myself, don't do it, I beg you, please love"
There is no threat anymore... he's quite now, I can recollect my calm, everything is over. I can go home with him. Just for tonight, just to prevent him from doing something stupid. He needs my help. He won't hurt himself, if I support him now.
He's sorry, I'm sure of it, more than ever. He's looking at me with those desperate eyes: he needs me, he cannot live without me, I can't leave him, I must help him. He won't hit me anymore, he promised, he realized that he is going to lose me if he does that again. Next time I'll leave him... next time... I love him too much, I cannot live without him.
Nothing happened, nothing will happen.
If you were in my shoes - those of the friend who listened to you crying, begging for an help - or, better, if you were in your mom's shoes what do you think you would say? How much angry could you be knowing what's happened? I'm trying to understand you and what are your feelings: a side of my inner self knows that you're depending on him but the other part is not able to accept it.
I'm that friend who tried to take your place, I'm the person you call when you need help, I'm that girl who's giving you advices you don't follow. I'm that person you'll lose when you decide to come back to him because of the disapproval she feels when thinking of that man and the concern she has got for your safety. All these feelings will be subverted, shaken and wiped out by the final recognition of the fact that you wanted it, you like to be hit because you do not trust yourself, permitting all this situation to go on.
"Yeah, I know but if he does it again, I swear, I'll leave him!" I reply sadly.
"That's not the first time you tell me that!" the cold and serious voice becomes quiter: "If you don't really want to leave him, he'd better consult a psychologist about this problem and in the meanwhile…don't date him! He's disturbed... unstable... am I wrong or he also scared you more than once placing his feet on the window's balcony, risking to fall down, and threatening you saying he should commit suicide if you were living him!?"
It's not poetic as it may sound. My words too delicate... softer than the true facts. They analyse the facts, they interpret them, perhaps they even judge their sequence but my words could never succeed in describing the sound of a mute cry sprung by a feeling. They are doomed to fail in this vain attempt.
How can I explain the violence? How can I recreate the same atmosphere, made of fear and instinct, which you are forced to inhale during those rabid moments?
A pleasant and quite day had passed by and in the tranquillity of an instant the mists of a primordial anger have risen again... My instinct can perceive that rage asleep inside him, so destructive and resentful: then a sudden sensation rapes me, the dense warmth of boiling blood running into my veins, just like caffeine, a thrill of an hallucinated waking up; a weird pressure is burdening my breast, as if something was spreading an ulcer there; my head knows what's going on: tense and empty and fully aware of what he is going to do; my head is inviting me to throw myself against that person, unable to understand my feelings, that little woman who's accepting my words without listening to. A passive human being deeply concentrated on herself. I don't exist.
Her innocent eyes on me: it's disgusting. It is upsetting me. Mocking and laughing at me, on my back, that fucking witch!
A mix of feelings inside: I can touch them, they make me afraid. He could react to them. I'm trembling. My muscles are strained to an unbearable level and my breath is congested: he gets up from the chair and he comes near, approaching me.
I had just given him a bad reply without caring about it. I didn't pay attention, made a mistake, a foolish reply, given with no offence, just an excessive tone: "Don't piss me off" I said "come on, let me use my computer quietly, I don't wanna listen to you now!"
Stupid little girl who does not pick her vocabulary with selective and polite manners: I should have guessed the consequences! It was clear enough from my past experiences that he would be furious but I couldn't help pronouncing those single syllables with my fucking mouth. What a silly fault of me!
He's really angry, shouting at, calling me bitch. I knew it. His voice is muffled. I cannot follow what he is saying. Every single cell of my body is trembling. I can feel it: I'm paralysed.
He grabs my arm and he turns it up. Every second his grasp is getting stronger. Am I screaming now? My back is hurting. What is he doing? I cannot understand what is really happening. His hands are grabbing and crushing me, injuring my skin. I can hear my own screeching voice crying for pain. Tears are falling down but I don't feel pain anymore: it's my head, everything is concentrated there. I don't exist anymore. No feelings, nothing. It's like watching me from outside without any clue of what is going on. I can see that girl trying to free herself from his hands using her instinct and her own fear; in her eyes I can read the hope: he'll calm down in a while. I don't know how, I don't know why but he stops, he pushes me outside the house and he closes the door in front of me.
Finally he stopped.
I can breathe again. Now I can feel my tears flowing and my head beating. My skin is burning. The beating of his heart is becoming slower.
I call a friend with my mobile. She can hear me crying:
"Are you fine?" she's worried.
"He did it again. He hit me again. I can't decide what to do. He locked me out. I've got no money. I dunno where to go. It's four o'clock in the morning. What can I do? Please, tell me what should I do!" I am speaking very fast, nearly without a pause.
" Accuse him, call the police. They will provide help and he will be charged with committing violence against you." then she adds: "You can stay at my place"
"I won't accuse him!" I moan. Just finished the sentence and I hear his voice calling me, begging for apologies: "What can I do? Tell me what. I don't know what to do, help me. He's here. He wants to bring me back!"
"No, no and no. You come to my house, immediately. Don't do stupid things, please. Leave him now!" she's worried for me, I can distinguish her concerned tone, she's nervous. She doesn't know what's really happened. She doesn't know that I am the only one to blame if he reacts this way. I'm sure my friend can hear his voice - through the phone line - imploring me to come back; maybe she thinks he's behaving like a cat mewing, in order to get food but he's not: he's really regretting for what he did.
"You did it again. You promised to me... not to do it again. Never!"
"Sorry hun, I didn't want to" he is crying "You know: sometimes you lose control and you say and you do things you really don't mean to. Forgive me, please. Don't leave me, please. I cannot live without you"
"I'm leaving"
"No, please, do not, don't go. Do it and I will die. I'll kill myself, don't do it, I beg you, please love"
There is no threat anymore... he's quite now, I can recollect my calm, everything is over. I can go home with him. Just for tonight, just to prevent him from doing something stupid. He needs my help. He won't hurt himself, if I support him now.
He's sorry, I'm sure of it, more than ever. He's looking at me with those desperate eyes: he needs me, he cannot live without me, I can't leave him, I must help him. He won't hit me anymore, he promised, he realized that he is going to lose me if he does that again. Next time I'll leave him... next time... I love him too much, I cannot live without him.
Nothing happened, nothing will happen.
If you were in my shoes - those of the friend who listened to you crying, begging for an help - or, better, if you were in your mom's shoes what do you think you would say? How much angry could you be knowing what's happened? I'm trying to understand you and what are your feelings: a side of my inner self knows that you're depending on him but the other part is not able to accept it.
I'm that friend who tried to take your place, I'm the person you call when you need help, I'm that girl who's giving you advices you don't follow. I'm that person you'll lose when you decide to come back to him because of the disapproval she feels when thinking of that man and the concern she has got for your safety. All these feelings will be subverted, shaken and wiped out by the final recognition of the fact that you wanted it, you like to be hit because you do not trust yourself, permitting all this situation to go on.
