Fact: Most cases of domestic violence are never reported to the police
A red mark had immediately formed in my brain. Shock. Had he really just hit me? Surely he couldn't have, and it didn't seem like him at all. But the stinging pain on my cheek said otherwise.
Jesse looked down at his hand, and he shoulders slumped. A look of regret filled his eyes, but something in me said it wasn't sincere.
"God, Rachel, I'm sorry. It'll never happen again. But that text, that was nothing, okay? And if things do escalate, I promise I'll tell you."
What? Was this some compromise between me and some... some… slut? I was not going to take that. Almost without thinking, I confronted him again.
"You think you can just leave it at that? I'm your fiancé! I love you, and I will not be your doormat! How could you do this to me?"
Instantaneously, Jesse turned around and slapped me again. The cool hand smacked me backwards, pushing me into the door. Timidly, I stood back up again, standing eye to eye with him. And he almost giggled, but managed to contain himself.
"What? You obviously can't fight back, it would be no contest," he paused, as if to reflect on his thoughts. As he did this, I looked closer at him. He looked no different than the Jesse I was in love with. But, obviously, something wasn't the same, "Look, Rach, I really don't like doing this. But trust me; it's going to be fine. It's nothing wrong with you. I just have these… male needs that have to be taken care of. It's not like you haven't been good. I just need a little more. Understand?"
I didn't nod, but he acted as if I did.
"Good. Really, it'll be fine."
With a contempt smile on his face, he walked pass me. He left me standing in the doorway, staring after him with disbelief. My hand crept up to my cheek slowly, and I tentatively touched the already forming bruise.
I was sitting there, in the doorway. For a minute, ten minutes, an hour, five hours, who knows how long? Just touching my face and hugging myself to stop the tremors that wrecked my body. He must have at least worn a ring, because blood continually dripped down the harsh bruise.
The next thing I noticed was Jesse's feet. Standing in front of me again, he knelt down with a smile on his face. It was sickening and almost scary, and I flinched when he drew near me. Holding out his hand, he lifted me to my feet, so we were almost eye to eye. Smiling a seemingly sweet smile, he spoke in a voice that I knew well, but now sent chills down my spine.
"Hey, I'm going out with some guys," Silently, I couldn't help but doubt that statement. I kept my mouth shut for once. "Would you move a little?" He said this in a kind, almost joking manner. Almost as if talking down to a child. Me.
I complied silently, and he kissed my cheek. And he left.
When he was gone, I wandered our apartment aimlessly. My feet walked with purpose, but my mind wandered from Jesse to Kathmandu to Jesse again.
Eventually I was standing still in front of the door.
Almost by magic, a knock resonated. Startled, I opened the door. One of my friends from NYU sauntered in, carrying a cell phone, mid-text.
"Hey Rach, so I just wanted to come talk to you about the audition for Mat- what happened?"
My eyes followed her pointing finger to my face. I looked back at the concern in her eyes. I was going to tell.
"Jesse, he… "
Realization hit her immediately. Looking at me sympathetically, she spoke again."
"Oh, sweetheart, what did you do?"
Disbelief stabbed my heart.
"Nothing. It's fine. I've got to go, so you should leave."
Cheerily she left, leaving me alone with my tears.
The next morning, I finally caught up to reality. Almost sprinting to the closet, I grabbed a large nylon bag and a suitcase. I was determined to escape.
"Rachel?"
Fear ran through my veins as I jerked around to see Jesse. He sauntered toward me a little, and I could smell both intense vodka and perfume. Immediately, I was angry. Without thinking, I spat at his face. Then I stared wide-eyed as he continued to walk towards me. All the repercussions I should have thought of before whirled around in my head.
"You're not leaving, are you? Rach, you can't leave."
I held my ground, but prepared to bolt. It was too late.
Suddenly I was on the floor, my head sliding from wall.
"Rachel, I would be so sad if you left. So angry…"
A kick to the gut.
"Do you know what would happen?"
Kneeling down, he blew his breathe on me. Closing my eyes, I tried to block him.
His hands tightly gripped my arms, pulling me upward.
"I couldn't have you."
With a frightening shove, I hit the wall again, slumping down the wall.
"I couldn't have you. Then nobody could have you."
Fear: be afraid or feel anxious or apprehensive about a possible or probable situation or event; "I fear she might get aggressive"
A year went by. I couldn't do anything but try to focus on my classes and act naturally. Desperately I forced ever strike into the recesses of my mind. But eventually the night came, when I would lie next to him, and his old words would resonate.
"I couldn't have you. Then nobody could have you."
I graduated. Jesse was there, smiling, cheering me on. Laughing with me and hugging my shoulders. My Daddy came, telling me how we both missed my Dad since he passed. He was kind. Jesse was kind. The bruises faded. I smiled, and was glad to see such familiar, kind face.
But eventually, Daddy returned to his new home in Florida. And the bruises came back.
They say that when fear persists for a long period of time, people tend to go into an almost remission. Life returns to normal. Until enough becomes enough, and the fearful either fall or act out.
One week after I graduated, my degree officially came in the mail. We celebrated. Then Jesse went out to "celebrate".
I ran.