Original!Fic - Victim
Title: Victim
Author: ilerya82
Media: original!fic
Word Count: 962
Rating: M - there's language and mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Warnings: This is MATURE subject matter!!! This is a very dark themed piece. References are made to acts of domestic violence.
Summary: When falling in love wasn't what you thought it would be.
Table/Prompt/Listing... for _____ Community: when I fall in love from my bingo card for love_bingo
Victim
I had never imagined my life to be like this. I think that anyone asking where I thought I would be as I rounded the corner of 30 would be so different from the hell that I am living. Don't get me wrong, there are some very good things that have come out of the final years of my twenties, but there was also a lot of heartache. I never imagined that love could be so difficult.
It's hard to believe looking that I could feel this much for one person. I had never imagined that when I fell in love, that love would come with pain. It wasn't a pleasure filed pain like books describe. He was no Christian Grey or Gideon Cross though I think he hoped to be something similar, even though he had no idea who these characters were. I had always pictured hearts and flowers, roses and passion, hugs and kisses and sharing for when I fell in love. I never dreamed that I could love a man who would chew me up and spit me out for fun; a man who would exercise control and dominance at every turn. I never dreamed that I would fall in love with my abuser.
He hadn't always been so hurtful. In fact, at one time he had been sweet and gentle; he had been the kind of lover I had dreamed of all my life. He was the consummate performer, the greatest actor I have ever known...
It started small, the anger that bubbled beneath the surface of his endearing smile. Little things became bones of contention once we started living together. We slid into a relationship of domestic violence so gradually that I didn't even realize what was happening. Until recently, I didn't even know that some of the things he'd done were considered abuse. I knew that they were not right, but I never thought they were abuse.
I wept when I learned the truth. I was a number, a statistic. I had become something that I didn't even recognize in the mirror. A victim. When I fell in love, I had imagined so much more than the terror I had learned to accept.
I wasn't a victim of physical abuse. I look back on it now and realize that there were negative aspects to our sexual relationship, where power and control were exerted and sometimes I was not a willing participant, but sex was generally what he would want when he withheld things from me. It made sense to me that he had been my abuser in the end. After all, he had been sexually abused himself as a child. Abusive behaviour was in his nature. Why did I turn a blind eye to the signs that had been staring me in the face from day one?
Why had I been so blind? Why did I let him isolate me? Why?
I have no answers yet, but I'm working on them. The therapy helps.
"And what would he do when you didn't comply with his demands?"
It seems like the common question. I hear it a lot from the counselors and therapists in the support groups. Talking about it helps. It's just not an easy process. It's long and arduous. There are good days; days when I feel like myself again before the rug gets ripped out from underneath me and the bad days come.
I find myself afraid to leave my home. Sometimes I think I see him in the rear view mirror at a stop light. Sometimes he's lurking in a vehicle I don't recognize when I pull into the parking garage of my condo. I know it's irrational; he had moved on quickly after he realized he wouldn't be controlling me anymore but it's not been the same for me. He doesn't care and I think I care too much for some one that did so much wrong.
"Is there something wrong with me? That I feel lost without him? That I still love him, the him that he was when our relationship began?" I expect audible gasps from the support group the first time I make this statement.
The reaction is exactly the opposite. They have lived this too. They understand just what I feel because they've all been there, they feel it too. I don't want to say that it's because we're all emotionally fucked, but it's the truth. Maybe that's why the thought is so offensive to my senses, why it sickens me to the core.
"There's nothing wrong with you, it's normal," the counselor has that preachy voice again. No matter how much I've committed myself to this, I just can't help feeling stupid when she talks to me. As though I should have known, how stupid of me. "You were like any other person in love; you were blinded by the emotion. But do you see now, that - what he gave back - was not love."
I know that, I do... But why can't I believe it?
"Love is not a one way street; it's a give and take between two people. Lust and libido blinded your reaction."
Well, duh! My abuser lured me in. He was gorgeous, smart, and seemingly sensitive. He was a great actor.
"But that doesn't change that what he did to - the lying, belittling, the isolation - it was wrong. You are stronger than what happened to you. Life doesn't happen to you, you make it happen."
And I realize as I listen that I can make a difference in my life and the lives of others. I can tell my story; I can start living and stop being afraid. I can be more. I will be more.
I will live.
A/N: Domestic Violence touches all of us. If you, or some one you love is a victim of Domestic Violence, please tell somebody. Get help. Your life is beautiful and you deserve happiness.
Author: ilerya82
Media: original!fic
Word Count: 962
Rating: M - there's language and mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Warnings: This is MATURE subject matter!!! This is a very dark themed piece. References are made to acts of domestic violence.
Summary: When falling in love wasn't what you thought it would be.
Table/Prompt/Listing... for _____ Community: when I fall in love from my bingo card for love_bingo
Victim
I had never imagined my life to be like this. I think that anyone asking where I thought I would be as I rounded the corner of 30 would be so different from the hell that I am living. Don't get me wrong, there are some very good things that have come out of the final years of my twenties, but there was also a lot of heartache. I never imagined that love could be so difficult.
It's hard to believe looking that I could feel this much for one person. I had never imagined that when I fell in love, that love would come with pain. It wasn't a pleasure filed pain like books describe. He was no Christian Grey or Gideon Cross though I think he hoped to be something similar, even though he had no idea who these characters were. I had always pictured hearts and flowers, roses and passion, hugs and kisses and sharing for when I fell in love. I never dreamed that I could love a man who would chew me up and spit me out for fun; a man who would exercise control and dominance at every turn. I never dreamed that I would fall in love with my abuser.
He hadn't always been so hurtful. In fact, at one time he had been sweet and gentle; he had been the kind of lover I had dreamed of all my life. He was the consummate performer, the greatest actor I have ever known...
It started small, the anger that bubbled beneath the surface of his endearing smile. Little things became bones of contention once we started living together. We slid into a relationship of domestic violence so gradually that I didn't even realize what was happening. Until recently, I didn't even know that some of the things he'd done were considered abuse. I knew that they were not right, but I never thought they were abuse.
I wept when I learned the truth. I was a number, a statistic. I had become something that I didn't even recognize in the mirror. A victim. When I fell in love, I had imagined so much more than the terror I had learned to accept.
I wasn't a victim of physical abuse. I look back on it now and realize that there were negative aspects to our sexual relationship, where power and control were exerted and sometimes I was not a willing participant, but sex was generally what he would want when he withheld things from me. It made sense to me that he had been my abuser in the end. After all, he had been sexually abused himself as a child. Abusive behaviour was in his nature. Why did I turn a blind eye to the signs that had been staring me in the face from day one?
Why had I been so blind? Why did I let him isolate me? Why?
I have no answers yet, but I'm working on them. The therapy helps.
"And what would he do when you didn't comply with his demands?"
It seems like the common question. I hear it a lot from the counselors and therapists in the support groups. Talking about it helps. It's just not an easy process. It's long and arduous. There are good days; days when I feel like myself again before the rug gets ripped out from underneath me and the bad days come.
I find myself afraid to leave my home. Sometimes I think I see him in the rear view mirror at a stop light. Sometimes he's lurking in a vehicle I don't recognize when I pull into the parking garage of my condo. I know it's irrational; he had moved on quickly after he realized he wouldn't be controlling me anymore but it's not been the same for me. He doesn't care and I think I care too much for some one that did so much wrong.
"Is there something wrong with me? That I feel lost without him? That I still love him, the him that he was when our relationship began?" I expect audible gasps from the support group the first time I make this statement.
The reaction is exactly the opposite. They have lived this too. They understand just what I feel because they've all been there, they feel it too. I don't want to say that it's because we're all emotionally fucked, but it's the truth. Maybe that's why the thought is so offensive to my senses, why it sickens me to the core.
"There's nothing wrong with you, it's normal," the counselor has that preachy voice again. No matter how much I've committed myself to this, I just can't help feeling stupid when she talks to me. As though I should have known, how stupid of me. "You were like any other person in love; you were blinded by the emotion. But do you see now, that - what he gave back - was not love."
I know that, I do... But why can't I believe it?
"Love is not a one way street; it's a give and take between two people. Lust and libido blinded your reaction."
Well, duh! My abuser lured me in. He was gorgeous, smart, and seemingly sensitive. He was a great actor.
"But that doesn't change that what he did to - the lying, belittling, the isolation - it was wrong. You are stronger than what happened to you. Life doesn't happen to you, you make it happen."
And I realize as I listen that I can make a difference in my life and the lives of others. I can tell my story; I can start living and stop being afraid. I can be more. I will be more.
I will live.
A/N: Domestic Violence touches all of us. If you, or some one you love is a victim of Domestic Violence, please tell somebody. Get help. Your life is beautiful and you deserve happiness.