I wish…
Once upon a dream away…
Hurt/ Tragedy
Tiffany Richardson
Star Productions
© Copyright.
All rights go to the author of this document.
Written in 2009.
Tiffany Richardson wrote this document and no ideas have been copied from other authors.
All of the characters mentioned are fictional and have no bearing on anyone has that name in real life.
Author's note:
This story has been devoted to my darling cousin called Elena Aldridge who without her help this story would not have been produced.
Contents
Prologue 3(5)
Chapter 1 ~ 4 (6)
Chapter 2 ~
Chapter 3 ~
Chapter 4 ~
Chapter 5 ~
Prologue
All fairy tales start with 'once upon a time' and they pretty much always end with a 'happily ever after' but those sorts of fairy tales rarely happen in real life do they? Unfortunately for me, I am not an exception in this case. It sucks doesn't it? Some people think that once they find love its all happiness and roses to the end. That wasn't the case for me... God! Sometimes I wish I never met him! He completely ruined my life and now... Well, I don't know who I am anymore...
I used to have the perfect life. A loving husband and a beautiful baby daughter, I mean what more could I have wanted for? I had the best job in the company, working with the best and being the best at what I did. Life was perfect so maybe something did have to go wrong. If something minor went wrong and I wouldn't be where I am now. But, no, life is never like that. All the bad have to equal the good and I got all my bad luck in one swoop. It was like a domino effect on my fairytale house; each domino getting bigger and more worrisome...
Chapter 1
I bet you are probably wondering what on earth I am talking about. Or, maybe, thinking that some guy has raked me over the coals. Well, you wouldn't be so far off with the latter thought. Even with all this hatred inside of me there is a small part that hasn't given up on him. Trying to persuade me that somehow I might have got it all wrong and when it does come up with a reasonable explanation it does make me stop and wonder... But I never let these thoughts form fully because they would decimate whatever little part of me that could still feel...
It's strange to think that I used to know him so well, but never really knew what he truly was like. I guess a heart and body will overlook many things in the belief of love. Yes it was 'all in the name of love' or maybe in my case it was just a case of idiocy.
I guess it was the first time I just stood there and accepted everything he said, after that; I became a regular output for his anger. It was always my fault. Everything that went wrong in his life was my fault. Never his fault because he was perfect in every way, no, it was always my fault. My fault that he lost his job, my fault that he almost was killed by his drink driving, my fault that our marriage had failed and was now on the brink of divorce and my fault for so many other things... And, stupidly, I just stood there accepting everything he said and did to me.
Usually, it would only be verbal and then he would break down a while later and apologise and I would just accept it with no questions asked. Only when it got physical did I really begin to worry... How was I to explain all the injuries I had? How much longer could I take this? The only true problem being that I couldn't leave him. I loved him too desperately for me to simply walk out on him. I remember the one time I tried and how hard it was... Just about 3 weeks ago I tried, but I-I couldn't do it....
It was a Thursday afternoon and he still had his job. I was breaking up inside and I could bear it...just about. Not broken yet but close enough for me to gather my wits and prepare to leave...
I packed quickly and swiftly despite my injuries from yesterday's abuse, but the damage was much deeper than it looked... Not physically but emotionally... Not once through all the time I spent with him did I realise that I may be more seriously damaged than I thought. I only looked on the surface... I don't know why I didn't look below the surface, maybe I was scared of what I might have found. I didn't realise that the more time I spent with him the more I lost what made me who I am. I lost essentially who I was, in trying to not be separated from him... I lost me.
The last of my things were packed swiftly and I put my suitcase down near the door. I couldn't leave just yet there was one last thing I had to do. Sitting down at my work desk, I grabbed a clean sheet of paper and a pen that worked and began to write:
To my sweetheart,
To my beloved,
Dearest Damien,
I-Ican't stay any more it's tearing me up inside and Idon't know how long it will be before I snap... I just can't take anything more and Idon't want you to see me when... when Ifall apart. I don't think either you or Icould take it. So, I'm leaving. Please don't try to find me. It won't do us any good. File for a divorce and put down personal issues. We can't go on living the way we are, our marriage can't be fixed – it's too broken for that now... One or both of us won't survive...
I'll always love you and I will miss you, contrary to what you may think. Ihope you will be better off without me....
I love you with all my heart but it's time for goodbye...
Sara
It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to write, teardrops kept marring my flowing script and the crossed out lines cut me to the core; exposing all the pain and torment I felt. The movies always depict the character of the broken wife leaving to be stronger but now I realise that the stronger personal is only an act. Real life is so much harder and the wound takes more time than it seems to heal. Even when you think it is fully healed it never really is. In fact you are left more vulnerable than before. All the past hurts all too easily exposed and new wounds can be inflicted from the old.
Still in the workroom wallowing in nostalgia, I checked my watch which brought further tears to my eyes. It was my 21st birthday present he had bought for me as an attribute of his love, just over a year ago. It was also the last occasion I had seen my friends and before he started to change. I couldn't even begin to imagine the difference in comparing the two versions of him. If someone had told me on my 21st birthday he would become like this, I wouldn't believe them. Not a bit.
So much had changed between then and now least of all me. I lost all of my friends... He was worried that if they saw us again they would be able to see through it all. I wasn't allowed to contact them or the punishment would get worse. Eventually some of them stopped calling and emailing - only 2 persisted. They were my best friends; Isabelle (Izzy or Belle) and Carmella (Caramel or Mel) and they were basically family to me... (My parents died while I was young and I lived with my Grandmother - until she died after I finished University) I was practically a prisoner in my own home if it weren't for my job...
I worked as a secretary to one of the major computing industries and I worked with the boss of it all. His name was Darius and he acted like the elder brother I never had. Completely opposite to what my husband now has turned into, I couldn't believe that I had once mistaken him for my husband and although they are so alike in appearance there were never two people with more different personalities. He would worry about me and not once did I realise that he may have more affection for me than that a brother and sister would have. Every day he would ask how I got injured and I would reply with something like I've been clumsy. He'd let me get away with it, but I don't think he ever believed me, not truly.
By the time I was fully prepared to leave, I heard the door being unlocked. Sheer terror coursed through me. I was frozen on the spot; hidden behind the workroom door. All the time I had spent agonising over the note I had to leave was more than I first thought I would need. A lot of time had passed without me realising yet it still wasn't enough for him to have finished his shift was it? The only thing which made sense to me was the terror I felt. How was he going to react?
He entered the house with his usual din. Leaning against the door, I breathed a sigh of relief; he hadn't spotted my suitcase, at least, not yet. He was on his break and just wanted to check on me. He brought food for us to have for a late lunch even though he knew I only ate one meal a day. I wasn't on a diet of sorts but still... Strange, I thought, surely he can't have forgotten his abuse a fortnight ago when he moaned at me saying I was too fat....
While I was puzzling this over in my mystified mind I hadn't noticed that in the hall everything had gone silent... Usually I would have been able to pick something like that up; due to my broken rib I hadn't been able to sleep well recently, I wasn't allowed to go to the hospital in case he got caught for it - I was too terrified to not obey him, I was exhausted. The door I was leaning on was wrenched open by one powerful movement and I collapsed into him. He didn't even attempt to catch me so I fell past him to the floor. As soon as I hit the floor a brutal kick was delivered to my ribcage, close but not on the broken rib. *CRACK* A second rib was broken and I lay gasping on the floor in agony. He violently yanked me up by my hair so he could yell at me.
"When were you planning on telling me that you were leaving me bitch? When you got back to that lover boy of a boss? I bet you two had it all neatly planned between you didn't you. You thought that I wouldn't notice didn't you? You really do have a low opinion of me to think that but then again you never though much good about me did you?"
"No, please let go of me it's not what yo-"
"Don't you dare say 'it's not what I think.' How would you know what I think? You don't even seem to recognise me as the man you married! Every single time I come home you are cowering behind something and you flinch when I touch you. You say you love but how can you when you do that each time you see me! You are such a hypocrite Sara!"
He punched me right on the cheekbone and I felt sure that here would be a bruise there tomorrow. Collapsing on to the ground from the impact of fist to face I felt bruised and defeated and this was hardly just begun. He had done this many times before and I knew he would calm down... eventually. I tuned out from his conversation as it felt like it was too much effort to take in all that he had to say. The punches and kicks kept coming and I lay still on the ground accepting it all as it had pretty much had become part of my daily routine... I was too tired and weak to fight back. A final sharp jab to my chest forced all the air out of my lungs. Blackness engulfed me...
That night he had a complete breakdown when he got back from the end of his shift. He just saw me lying there on the floor exactly where he had left me. A weak, bruised figure curled up on herself as if to protect herself from the outside world... He looked so vulnerable that I forgave him on the spot. The shock had worn away my resolve to not forgive him. I know now that it was a mistake to forgive him that quickly. After that he was so assured, in the fact, that I would forgive him anything.
Also, that day, he lost his job. He was late back to his job, due to the time he had spent beating me up, which as a result made him lose his job. He wasn't told until the next day...
I awoke in my bed. Instinctively I felt to my side: the bed was empty, bar me, but the space next to me was still warm. That meant he had only recently got up. Was it safe? I was still wary of him even though I had forgiven him; the bruises and broken bones had made sure of that.
I didn't know how long I had been out for but as I moved I heard him. He sounded angry... His voice was quite distant so I assumed that he was downstairs and that I was safe for the time being; after all if I stayed upstairs I could avoid him couldn't I? Listening intently, I realized that he was talking to someone else and that the anger was not directed at me. At least not yet... He always blamed everything that didn't go well on me.
Whilst stifling a groan I checked the date and time on the bedside phone. Not yet time for me to go to work and it was only Friday so I could go in slightly later today. It was during checking the date and time I grasped the fact that he wasn't talking to someone outside but someone on the phone. Though, I could hear the person responding to his angry accusations, so he must have put it on the speakerphone function, even with the speaker amplified I still couldn't hear what she was saying only that she was trying to calm him down. (It was only that much I could tell from the speaker) I knew from experience that the more you tried to calm him down the worse it could and would get. You simply had to wait for him to let it all out of his system. That fact made me understand that the person who was on the phone didn't know him that well so they must be relatively new to him...
Curiosity overwhelmed me so I gently eased the phone off its cradle so that I could hear who was speaking to him...