This story is very angsty. I also apologise for being so blunt but I wanted it to be honest. Maybe I went a bit overboard with the abuse. Well enjoy!
Healing The Wounds
Dear Friend
Many people have asked me how it started. Family, friends, they've all asked me how did
it start? When did he start being violent, when did he first hit me. I'll tell you the truth. I want to tell someone the truth I feel I owe to myself after all this time. I need it. I need to sift through all the lies of my own creation, the pretences that other people placed on us and our relationship, like it was any of their business. This is my story. Just mine. No one can manipulate it or see it the way they want to see it. I won't let them. Not anymore.
So here it is:
When did he first hit me? That's such a difficult question. It's like asking how many times over the six year span did he hit me. Or beat me? I don't see how it matters. What do people want me to say? He beat once a week? Hit me once a day? It didn't work like that. Weeks would go by without one incident, even months. And that was just as hard as the actual beatings, the waiting. Waiting and wondering what would set him off. That's what drove me crazy. I convinced myself that there was some kind of pattern. And if I could just find it the abuse would stop. It was that simple.
But there was no pattern.
I would get beaten for talking too much. For not talking at all. For being there. For not being there. For looking at him 'in that way'. For not looking at him. For not letting him do what he wanted in bed. Sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes he'd just come home in a towering rage. Screaming at me right in my face. Calling me such names. Names that stuck to me like slime: whore, slut, faggot, queer… It hurt so badly. The mental abuse was as bad as the physical.
He'd openly mock me in front of his family. Embarrassing me by telling them stories about my inexperience in bed, my insecurities about myself I'd foolishly told him while I felt I could still trust him. Mika yelled at him to stop but Tatsuha just laughed. I stood there in silence not even protesting or trying to defend myself. There was no point. I learned a long time ago that there was no stopping Yuki. He made it his priority to degrade me and make me less of a person in his eyes. And I could do nothing but watch and wait while he slowly devoured every bit of my soul until one day there would be nothing left.
I still haven't answered the question have I? When did it start? It's hard to say. It sounds crazy now but I didn't even really notice it at first. Right from the beginning he'd hit me and smack me for my constant chattering or whining. It didn't bother me. I figured it was just his way of handling his feelings. He wasn't serious. But that illusion was shattered. No matter how much time we spent together, how much of himself he revealed to me, the punches and slaps were still frequent until one night. That dreadful night.
I had returned home from along day of recording. It must have been about 2 am. I admit I was pissed off. It had been a hard day I was tired and hungry and my throat hurt like a bitch. I let myself into the apartment, fully expecting Yuki to be asleep (he had just finished a deadline and had been resting for the past few days) so I turned all the lights on without thinking. And there he was. Sitting motionless on the couch staring into to space. He wasn't even smoking or drinking. Till this day I still wonder how long he had been sitting there alone in that dark apartment.
"Yuki?" I asked "What the hell are you doing? You scared me half to death!" I admit there was an edge to my voice but I wasn't looking for a fight. Ok maybe I should have been nicer to him I mean he was clearly upset about something. I could have talked to him. Put my arm around him, made him feel loved. Maybe I should have… no! I can't do this anymore make excuses. Part of me still believes I deserved all that I got. I deserved the Hell I was put through for six years. Maybe I did.
After I spoke his eyes slowly shifted to meet mine. I'd like to say they were glassed over from drink but to tell the truth they were clear. There were times when he was drunk and hit me but not this time he was perfectly sober that much is true.
"Where were you?" he asked, I swear the tone of his voice could have cut glass. I wasn't scared though not yet. "I told you we were recording. I left you a message on the machine and sent you two texts which you never returned as usual" I was being insolent I know but I was annoyed as usual he was trying to make me feel guilty. A guilt that would eat me alive over the next few years.
"Liar!" he yelled. His voice echoed round the quiet apartment and for the first time in our relationship I was afraid of him. And I had every reason to be. Not only was he so much bigger and stronger than me but the silence in the apartment reminded me that we were all alone. I was alone no one to rescue me.
"You were out letting that guitarist friend of yours fuck you weren't you!"
"What? Yuki no…" then he grabbed me. My shoulder, his fingers digging in. The pain it caused told me he could and would hurt me; I knew I had to get away. Bizarre plans started forming in my head one was just to run away out the apartment and out of the building. Another was to lock myself in the bathroom till he calmed down.
It's strange even that moment it never occurred to me to question the fact that the man my naive young heart loved and trusted was going to hurt me. Any other person would be shocked or upset but not me. I suppose in a bizarre way I had almost been expecting this, the fist had always been coming even before we met. I sound weird I know.
"Don't lie to me you little slut! Did you take it up the ass as always huh? Did you moan and scream for him? Tell me!" with each word he shook me again and again with the one hand attached to my shoulder the other by his side but not for long. He punched me. Now that was a shock. I was on the floor before I even knew what was going on. It didn't hurt I was too shocked to feel it. He must have just dropped me. My head hit the floor making me dizzy. I touched my face trying to work out what the warm sensation was shakily lifting my hand I saw the scarlet red substance shining in the light. That's when it became real. When I saw my own blood (which I would see enough of in the next few years cleaning the stains would become second nature to me) I knew then I had to get away. Even with the pounding in my head I tried to stand up. But he grabbed and maddest of all he kissed me. Then bit me. Now with blood poring from my nose and my bottom lip he dragged me into the bedroom.
That was the first night he raped me.
Hiro called it that. Rape. To tell you the truth I never called it that. Even when I was beaten and broken and at the brink of consciousness he would force himself inside me. Even when he would twist my arm behind my back and bend me over something even though I begged and pleaded with him to stop. Even when I was in hospital with internal injuries from where he was too forceful. Even when my insides burned and blood was pouring out of me I never called it rape. I'd been raped before it wasn't the same. How could my boyfriend rape me? It was his right to my body surely? That's what I told myself.
I woke up the next morning on the bed. Notice how I call it 'the' bed and 'the' apartment not ours. It was never ours. I woke up covered in dried blood and his semen. Disgusting I know but it was disgusting what he did to me. I shakily stood up pain shooting through me like so many electric volts. Made my way to the bathroom and switched on the shower on and stepped in. I just stood under the spray motionless letting the water wash away all the ugly substances along with my sins. I never heard the shower door open but I felt two strong arms wrap around me. Acting purely on instinct I leaned back into his embrace. He gently took me into his arms and started washing me. Tenderly and carefully. Yes the same man who not ten hours before had punched me, bit me and scarred me. But I accepted his kindness. I knew it was his way of saying sorry. The rest of the day he took care of me. Towelling me dry and carrying me out of the shower and tucking me up in the freshly made bed. I don't know what happened to the blood stained sheets. He gave painkillers and made me lunch. He even called my work for me to tell them I was too sick to go in.
Yuki was always like that. He never apologised for anything he did but he always found ways to make up for it. Making me special dinners or buying me silly little presents even just boxes of Pocky or CD's and leaving them in places he knew I'd find them. Cleaning my wounds and kissing the bruises. I always forgave him and he knew that. Oh boy did he know that. That was what screwed me when Yuki discovered he could do anything to me and I'd blindly accept it. Why else would he lock me outside the house naked? Take his lighter and burn the lyrics I had spent all night on. Rip up the all the photo's I had of me and Hiro together in a fit of jealousy. He was like that you see. He made things up in his head. He was convinced I was having all these affairs. Mostly he accused Hiro even threatening to kill him more than once. But other times it was K, Sakano hell even Suguru. To him I was just a useless whore who'd take it from anyone. He even went in for tests. Stating that he wanted to know if he'd caught anything off of his slut of a lover.
He was the only one having affairs he didn't even try and hide it. He'd openly come home drunk his mouth and collar covered in lipstick reeking of whiskey and perfume. Then he'd have me for dessert. When I questioned him about it he'd say could I blame him I was so shit in bed could I really blame from getting it elsewhere.
That's how my life went on. Day to day I simply existed. I would work and go home to be abused or ignored by Yuki. His call. Hiro calls it my depression but I don't think it was even that. I mean sure there were black days. Where I felt so numb I could barely speak or interact, my singing voice suffered and this made work unbearable as well. No one understood they called me a prima Donna or some such nonsense. Then there was even blacker days were I was so bitter and angry at everyone even my friends. How could they not see? Even Hiro was blind at first. I came to work with my face covered in marks. I even had two black eyes once, one healing the other brand new. And no one commented. They thought I was just being foolish Shuichi and walking into things as usual. I was convinced they were in it with him (and I talk about Eiri being deluded) they were on his side why else would they ignore the marks and bruises?
Even now, a year on, my body is still a virtual map of everything Yuki did to me. I still have scars and cigarette burns marking my chest and torso. My arm still aches when it rains from where he broke it after an argument about goodness knows what.
I'm being over dramatic I guess there were good day's as well. Days when I knew I was alive. Days where I'd lovingly kissed Yuki on the cheek and ran off to work where I'd sing my heart out and create killer beats and top ten songs. I laughed I had fun but as the years wore on those days got fewer and far between.
I know what you are thinking. Why didn't I leave? Just walk out and never return. I tried believe me; I did in the early days I must have left more times than I can count. But he'd seek me out at Hiro's or at my parents. Explain to my harbourers that I was just being ridiculous running out after a stupid fight, he'd laugh with them. He'd be so convincing and sincere that even my own mother would send me back. I sent pleading glances to her but she either ignored me or didn't realise.
When we got back he would yell and threaten. Tell me he'd kill me if I left. I meant that much to him. I knew he wasn't kidding. He got away with murder once before what was to stop him doing it again?
So I trapped until one day. Exactly a year ago. I had dragged myself to work. Probably looking like hell. I didn't really care how I looked anymore it was too much hassle. I didn't try to look desirable if anyone looked my way Yuki would blame me for 'flaunting myself' and 'teach me a lesson' with his fists. I didn't even shoot music videos anymore.
Anyway I went into work small and dishevelled hurting from the sex I hadn't wanted the night before. I locked myself in one of the toilet cubicles in NG's staff toilets sat and cried. After awhile came in and found me. He climbed over the stall wall and put his arms around insisting to know what was wrong. Why I was so sad all the time? Why I was so quiet? Why we didn't hang out together anymore? And that's when I cracked. I told him everything even showing him my scars.
First he was angry. Seething hatred ran through his body I could see it in his eyes. He was going to go and find Yuki but I convinced him not to. I didn't want that it wasn't worth it. He told to leave, get out, pack my things and go to his or my parents anywhere just get away. I didn't listen.
By this point I had long since given up, resigned myself to my fate. Everyday I prayed for death. As morbid as that sounds it's true. At times I'd lie on the floor in pool of my own blood and vomit. Listening to Eiri washing his hands then turn the lights off and go to bed. I prayed the ground would just swallow me up, the darkness would engulf. I wanted to cease being. It never worked there came a point where I had to get up, clean myself, pick up the pieces and tried to go on. I considered suicide but I was never brave enough.
For weeks Hiro pestered me about leaving. I tried to block it out I even yelled at him. But he never gave up. And I'll love him always for that. It all came to a head when Hiro, K, Sakano, Suguru and Maiko appeared at the apartment and weren't going to leave without me. They forced there way in and packed my stuff I could only watch in amazement. Yuki yelled and threatened but all in vain I left. Finally.
But I wasn't free for the next month I was constantly looking over my shoulder waiting. Waiting for Yuki to make a comeback. To take his revenge. It never happened. Yuki died. Overdosed on his medication. Everyone was shocked. The fans cried leaving flowers outside the apartment building.
I still blame myself and I think I always will. You see even though Yuki hurt in ways that even I will never quite comprehend, even though he killed parts of me I still loved him. And that's the really fucked up thing because I know in his own sick twisted way he loved me too. Even after everything I mourned for him. Hiro didn't understand he thought I would be happy he certainly was.
The funeral was hard. I had to go though. I needed to convince myself that the man who dominated my life for six years was really dead. Tatsuha spat at the ground in front of my feet but Mika came over and held my hand for a really long time.
I got the apartment but I couldn't keep it. Every room held a memory. The living room where I was usually beaten. The kitchen where Yuki held a butcher knife to my throat. The bathroom where I would stand under the shower and watch the red liquid swirl down the drain. The bedroom where Yuki did unspeakable things to me and finally the office where Yuki would lock himself in for hours on end. So I sold it and bought myself a smaller place. Just me and my cat.
I am ok. I really am. I can't say I don't still have vivid nightmares that have me up screaming at ungodly hours. I don't think I will ever be able to have another relationship again. Yuki always said that no one else would want me. I think there is some truth in that. I mean who wants to be with an emotional wreck?
I'll heal it will just take time. People at work still tiptoe around me I made Hiro swear not to tell anyone what I told him but I think he did. Can't say I blame him. I am very grateful for Hiro and my other friends.
I am also grateful to you. Thanks for listening.
All my love
Shuichi Shindou