Apr 17: The Wrong One

Have you ever gotten involved with someone you shouldn’t have had a relationship with?

How funny, I was only talking about this to a co-worker the other week. I was telling her a story about a guy that I was casually seeing. We’ll refer to him as J.

I met J when I was in my early twenties. I was living in Malvern and life was great. J was an older guy (well, mid-late thirties, but I was about 23, so he was considerably older). J was just somebody that I really enjoyed hanging out with. Well, initially anyway.

My relationship with J was interesting. I wouldn’t even call it a relationship, it was more of a friendship. He lived in Fitzroy in this incredible 4-storey converted warehouse apartment which was just utterly breathtaking. I still remember the first time I went to his place, and when he gave me the tour, my mouth just dragged along the ground the whole time as we went from floor to floor. J was one of those people who always managed to find the good in people, and remind them of all the wonderful qualities they possess; identifying everything about them that makes them special and unique.

I remember one time he and I had agreed to just go for a drive, and we ended up somewhere in Port Philip Bay, and walked all the way out along a pier to a breakwater and sat there for quite some time just having this incredible D & M (Deep & meaningful). At this point in my life, I had distanced myself from G, and this night; this conversation, I opened up so much to this person who was still somewhat of a stranger, and he actually questioned my decisions; asked how I was feeling; and all I remember was bawling my eyes out for most of the conversation. As somebody who doesn’t necessarily reveal their emotional state, I had a lot of pent up emotions that literally came flooding out. It was as though such a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders and off my soul. It was quite cleansing. I actually think it was one of the very very few times in my life where I’ve actually opened up so much and allowed myself to become so incredibly vulnerable.

After that, I realised that the time I spent with J was going to be quite safe and somewhat healing. Whenever I went around to his place, we would just hang out, watch a movie; have dinner; or just sit there for hours and talk about anything and everything. It was like therapy, without actually having to pay for it. Sometimes I’d even just go over there after a really shitty day at work, and fall asleep on his couch for a few hours, just to have a decent sleep. I really enjoyed being in such a calm and relaxing environment.

Then, he started acting a bit odd.

It began when he admitted that he had feelings for me. I’d be naive to say that I didn’t already have an idea that he felt like this, but those feelings certainly weren’t reciprocated – I made it quite clear that I wanted nothing more than to just be friends with him. He, however, wanted more.

One day I was at his place, and I had just woken up from a nap on his couch, and he was in the kitchen cooking some pasta for dinner. I layed there just observing, and soaking up my surroundings and revelling in this feeling of happiness and comfortable environment. Then it dawned on me that most of the conversations we’d had were about not just my issues and feelings, but regular topics as well… however I realised that although he now knew so much about me, I knew very little about him. Whenever I had asked him about himself and his life etc, he quickly changed topics, or avoided them completely. Realising that this was incredibly one-sided, and that for a friendship to actually work properly, both parties need to be open to the idea of sharing details about themselves. He couldn’t avoid the conversation forever – it just doesn’t work like that.

We sat down for dinner at his massive solid timber dining table (seriously, it was like a massive tree trunk, just cut in half lengthways, right down the centre. It sat 14 comfortably, and had long matching bench seats. It was such an incredible piece of timber… and naturally, cost an absolute fortune!!) and just began talking about whatever was being reported on the news, and then there was a bit of silence, and I took a deep breath and confronted him about his avoidance of discussing anything about him.

Well, had I known that he was going to react the way he did, I wouldn’t have said anything. He froze, was staring at his bowl of pasta, and I saw the skin on his neck instantly turn bright red. His grip tightened around his fork, and in a very calm voice, without making eye-contact, calmly said “I’ve already told you before that I don’t like to talk about myself. I’ve already told you before that we don’t talk about me”.

I sat back and apologised, and tried to explain myself, pointing out that all we’ve ever done is talk about me, and that it’s becoming quite one-sided – he knows so much about me, and yet I barely know anything about him…

“HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES AM I GOING TO HAVE TO TELL YOU TO MAKE SURE THAT YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR JUVENILE FUCKING MIND, THAT WE. DON’T. TALK. ABOUT. ME!! WHY IS THAT SO FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND? I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO KEEP FUCKING REMINDING YOU, BECAUSE YOU SEEM TO KEEP FUCKING ASKING ME ABOUT IT? WHAT IS IT WITH YOU? ARE YOU JUST COMPLETELY FUCKING STUPID OR SOMETHING? IS THE MESSAGE NOT GETTING THROUGH? DO YOU THINK I JUST SIT HERE AND SAY THIS FOR FUN? PERHAPS IF I WANTED TO FUCKING TALK ABOUT MYSELF, THEN I’D FUCKING DO SO, NOT JUST BECAUSE YOU START TO DEMAND THAT I DO SO. IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT.”

I don’t actually remember what else was screamed at me after that. During that initial outburst, he had picked up his bowl and thrown it across the room, sending pasta all over the floor, and smashing the ceramic bowl against one of the kitchen walls. In all honesty, I thought he was going to kill me. The rage in his beady little eyes was simply terrifying and I knew that I was on the second floor of this building, so racing out and jumping over the balcony wasn’t exactly an option.

I didn’t really know how to react. I think I was just far too terrified to even look at him, so I just sat there, staring into my bowl of pasta. His tirade continued for several minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I just wanted it to stop long enough for him to catch his breath so I could just grab my stuff and run downstairs. My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty. I really had no idea what to do. This was the moment I realised that something was so severely wrong with this guy, and I began to understand exactly why we never talked about him. It was like Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with this guy. I couldn’t believe that somebody who was so completely comforting and relaxing to be around, would completely flip out like this.

I didn’t want to stay any longer.

I waited until the screaming stopped, and I apologised for upsetting him, clearly not knowing that it was such a severely sensitive issue for him. I walked over to get my backpack and my jumper and headed towards the hallway. As I got close enough, he pushed the timber bench seat across the doorway, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE? DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THAT YOU’RE FUCKING LEAVING NOW? YOU’VE UPSET ME SO MUCH, YOU’RE NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE, YOU CAUSED THIS AND NOW YOU’RE GOING TO FIX THIS!!”

….um… what??

I told him again that I was sorry and that I had no intentions of upsetting him whatsoever, and that I thought it would just be better for both of us if I left. I offered to help him clean up, and he screamed at me some more, so I said that I should just leave so he can calm down and when he’s had some time to think about it, we can talk about it later.

…wrong decision.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND? DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THAT I’M GOING TO LET SOME STUPID CHILDISH LITTLE CUNT LIKE YOU FUCKING TELL ME WHAT I’M GOING TO DO? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? NO, REALLY, WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? BECAUSE ALL I SEE IS SOME FUCKING INSECURE FUCKING PRETENDER, WHO LIKES TO ACT ALL SMART AND INTELLIGENT AND ALL TOGETHER, BUT WHO REALLY IS SO INCREDIBLY FUCKING INSECURE WITH HIMSELF THAT HE MAKES HIMSELF OUT TO BE SOMEBODY HE ISN’T BECAUSE HE’S NOTHING BUT A FUCKING WANNABE. YOU’RE FUCKING NOTHING. YA HEAR ME? NOTHING. YOU ARE THE FUCKING SCUM OF THE EARTH AND I CANNOT EVEN BELIEVE THAT I EVEN LET YOU INTO MY LIFE, WHEN ALL YOU’VE DONE IS TRY TO FUCKING DESTROY IT, BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT CUNTS LIKE YOU DO… DESTROY PEOPLE’S LIVES, SO FUCK YOU!!

I took a deep breath and asked him to move out of my way. He refused.

I asked him again, and he pushed me down onto the bench seat.

I asked him one more time to let me leave, otherwise I would call the police. He refused.

I exhaled, spun around on the bench seat and walked over to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

Well, J, I’m taking a moment to pull myself together, because I’ve asked you three times to let me leave, and you’ve refused. You have just pushed me down onto the bench which could be classified as physical assault, and after the last 25 minutes of you screaming at me, that’s just verbal abuse. You’ve left me with no option that to contact the police and inform them that you’re holding me here against my will. So if you don’t mind, I’ve got a phone call to make.

From the look he was giving me, and the colour red his face had gone, I literally thought his head was actually going to explode all over the doorway. He began to climb over the bench. I’m warning you, J. I’ve got the number ready to go.  I showed him the screen with 000 ready to be dialled. So, now we can do this the easy way, and you can let me leave, or we can do it the hard way and involve the police. And I don’t think that police charges involving haloing somebody hostage and physical assault will look too good with your peers, will it? 

“ARE YOU FUCKING THREATENING ME?”

No, I’m making you a promise. If I wanted to threaten you, I’d tell you that there’s a third option, it’s called ‘take another step towards me, and I will literally beat the living daylights out of you and put you in hospital’. So you tell me, how do you want this to play out?

Suddenly, there was a Mexican standoff. He was standing on the bench in the doorway, and I was standing in the kitchen… literally surrounded by a multitude of potential weapons. Without losing eye-contact with him, I felt around the bench top for the rolling pin, and picked it up with my free hand. He climbed down off the bench very slowly, and stood there. He was so full of rage, and I was backed into a corner. Even I knew that I was all talk, but I knew that if it came to the crunch, and I had to defend myself, I’d do a pretty damn good job of doing so, and I’d do a bit of damage in the process.

“DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT I’M SCARED OF YOU? YOU’RE NOTHING BUT AN INSECURE LITTLE CUNT! YOU WOULDN’T DARE TOUCH ME!”

I WARNED YOU, ONE MORE STEP, AND I HIT DIAL.

He thought I was bluffing. So I hit dial.

‘Emergency services. Police, Fire or Ambulance?’

“YOU FUCKING CUNT!!”

Yes, Police please…

I was connected to an operator and explained the situation. J kept inching his way further, as I tried to explain my situation. Screaming out the whole time that he was going to kill me. I put them on loudspeaker so I could throw things at his head in an attempt for him to keep his distance. They asked me if I needed police assistance with the situation. J screamed out no, and I said yes. They said they’d send a car to the location of the call and would be there within minutes.

I kept the line open and jumped up on the kitchen bench as he charged towards me.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE YOU FUCKING CUNT? THOSE FUCKERS ARE GOING TO BE HERE AGAIN! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD. I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU HEAR ME, I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, CUNT!!”

‘WELL DONE, THE POLICE JUST HEARD ALL OF THAT. I’M GOING TO ATTEMPT TO LEAVE NOW!!’ and leapt off the kitchen bench and made a dash for the hallway. As I leapt over the bench seat, I looked back to see how close he was and he had slipped on the pasta. I kept running down stairs, to the entrance and waited to hear him come after me.

Silence.

I opened the doors and walked outside into the freezing winter air. I could hear a tram in the distance, and the temptation to just jump on the tram and go home and never look back was so incredibly appealing. However, something in the back of my head felt concerned. The fact that he had slipped and didn’t get up to come after me was of concern to me. What if he was hurt? What if he was badly hurt? Oh my god, what if he was dead? I’d be charged with murder. Oh god, I’d go to jail. I can’t go to jail!

I waited for the police to turn up, and I introduced myself and explained the whole situation. I told them about my concerns that he hadn’t followed me, and I requested to go and check that he was okay. One of the officers remained in the car and called for an ambulance, and the other officer went into the apartment. A few minutes later, he radioed to the other officer that everything was okay. The ambulance had arrived by this stage, and  we all went into the apartment and upstairs to the kitchen.

As I walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, I could hear J crying, whilst trying to talk to the officer. I let the other officer and ambo walk in whilst I stood out of sight to listen to what he was saying. I peeked around the corner and saw him sitting up against the wall with his hands cuffed behind his back; squashed pasta and sauce all over his top and face, and blood coming from his face. Turns out he was okay, he’d cut his face on broken pieces of the ceramic bowl he smashed against the wall earlier.

I walked around the corner and let him see me. The person sitting on the floor was a completely different guy. This wasn’t the rage-fuelled monster threatening to kill me only minutes before. This was the J that I knew.

He felt so remorseful, and couldn’t stop apologising for whatever he had done. He hoped that he hadn’t hurt me, and was so sorry if he did. I stood there, and gave my statement to the police in a play-by-play making sure not to leave out any detail. I just glared at him the whole time, and watched him sob uncontrollably. When the ambo’s had finished cleaning up his cuts, they left and I was escorted out of the room so they could interview him. Turns out he had absolutely no recollection of what happened. He completely flipped out, and it’s not the first time it’s happened. According to him, it happens from time to time, he has these fits of rage where his memory goes completely blank and he has no recollection of anything that happens.

The police asked if I wanted to press charges, but to demonstrate that I’m not the monster, I refused and simply told him that he needs to get professional help. I could no longer be his friend, and wanted to have no further contact with him. The police even suggested taking out a restraining order, but I said that it wasn’t necessary. They escorted me out of the building, and got me to see the ambo’s to be treated for any injuries. I just said I was in shock, and then the police drove me home.

A few weeks later I received an email from J, who happened to write in detail all about himself. His issues, his personality disorders, his medication… anything and everything I had ever wanted to know was there in black and white. I couldn’t believe that he was actually detailing all this highly personal information and sending it to me. I was amazed at what I was reading, but acknowledged just how much it must have taken for him to get to this point. I figure this was his way of making amends or a way of apologising to me.

Soon afterwards, he began calling me again. And then calling me constantly. Wanting to meet up and talk. Wanting to hang out again. Asking if I’d like to come over to his place. I ignored all his calls, until I saw him parked outside my apartment one night when I arrived home from work.

I couldn’t believe it. After everything that had happened, he was still behaving like this. I wasn’t standing for it. I walked over to his car, and belted my hand on his window and started yelling at him. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? YOU’RE STALKING ME NOW? DO YOU REALLY WANT TO TEST ME AGAIN, BECAUSE YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO CALL MY BLUFF. I WILL HAVE YOU ARRESTED… SO I SUGGEST YOU DRIVE AWAY RIGHT NOW, AND NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE AROUND HERE. I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU, AND I DON’T WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ME. NOW, PLEASE LEAVE, OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE… SERIOUSLY… JUST. GO.

And on that, he didn’t even wind down the window. He nodded, started the engine, and drove off. That was the last time I ever had any contact with J. It’s a shame that it turned out the way that it did, but unfortunately that’s just how it played out. I actually haven’t even thought about him until now. I wonder if he ever managed to resolve any of his issues?? Oh well.

People come into our lives for all different reasons. I like to think that J came into my life to get me to experience the true feeling of vulnerability. Which might explain why I’m so heavily guarded now?

 

Apr 2 – Not So Shocking

What is something that shocked you when you were younger that isn’t so shocking now?

Without tooting my own horn, I was a pretty switched on kid – there were a lot of things that would have shocked others, but didn’t really phase me. I was quite aware of my surroundings, the people within and what was going on with them.

I look back and think about things that probably should have shocked me, but didn’t, and then I think about how the same thing would affect somebody else. For example, I’ve talked about how I first watched Rocky Horror when I was like, 7 or 8 or something. Granted, I didn’t necessarily understand it at the time, and I knew that there was something wrong when I got into trouble from Mum for watching it, and she said I was banned from watching it again… but then not so long afterwards, mum ended up watching it with me.

And again.

…and again.

…and again, and again, and again…

Seeing as how everybody is so precious about what their children watch, and people get completely hysterical about this, just the concept of a parent allowing their child to watch something so… controversial would send many parents into a fit. Have you seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Would you let your 8yr old watch it? I guess if we’re going to start talking about censorship and age-appropriate content, then we could open an entire can of worms and talk about all kinds of things like violent video-games, cartoons, language, sexual references etc etc… but I’m not going to – my brain isn’t ready for that today. I’ve had a ginger tea and two pieces of cake, that’s enough excitement for one day. *lol*

Other than that, there are of course other things back then, like horror movies for example – they would terrify me back then, and now I re-watch them and I think about how terribly made they were, and how the special effects were soooooo bad.

Maybe I’ve just formed an outlook from a very early age that nothing is shocking to me anymore… I just take it for what it is. Art. Creativity. Statement. Attention., etc.

 

Daily Prompt: Groupthink

Write a post that includes dialogue between two people — other than you. (For more of a challenge, try three or more people.)

Sophie couldn’t take it anymore. The unhappiness of her husband’s infidelity was slowly destroying her. She loved him so very much, but at the same time felt so completely betrayed by him. She had known about this for almost twelve months, but had said nothing. It also wasn’t the first time they had had major problems in their relationship. She wasn’t sure what to do, she didn’t want anybody else to know the intimate details of their marriage problems, so she kept everything to herself. Day after day, month after month, the pain just kept eating away at her, and slowly her love for this man, her husband, was becoming more and more a feeling of resentment.

She’d been wanting to say something to him for a while, but she never had the courage to do so. She was too afraid of the confrontation. She was too afraid of how he would react, especially if it was anything like that other time. She vowed to avoid anything that would lead tohim reacting like that again. But most of all, she was afraid for the kids. Her two young sons who knew nothing of the problems in their parents marriage.

Sophie: Hey Steph, it’s me.

Stephanie: Hey, what’s going on?

Sophie: *exhales* not much, just finished hanging out the washing, and put on another load. Thought I’d have a break before I start the vacuuming.

Steph: Jesus, you just don’t stop do ya? You’re like a machine… you’re always doing something, cleaning something, driving somewhere, picking up kids…

Sophie: *laughs* hehehehe yeah, tell me about it. Story of my life. Ugh, girl, I need a fucking holiday.

Steph: Well, then why don’t you and Nathan plan a little getaway somewhere? You two should go away for a long weekend or something. I’ll watch the kids, and you two can… y’know, reconnect. hehehe.

Sophie: HA! Yeah right. The last thing I’d want to do is be alone and feel obligated to reconnect.

Steph: What do you mean? It’d be great for you two. I can’t even remember the last time you two had a holiday…

Sophie: Well… there was…

Steph: *interrupting* No, you’re trip to Cairns doesn’t count, because you had the kids. When was the last time you had a break or a holiday without the kids? Just you two?

Sophie: uuummmm….

Steph: EXACTLY!! Even I’m struggling to think about it… and I reckon you haven’t had a break alone since you had J-J… and that was, what, 12 years ago or something. You’re overdue. So, why don’t you plan it… it doesn’t have to be soon.. make it for a couple of months or something…

Sophie: mmmm… nah, I don’t…

Steph: *interrupts* yeah, make it for like June – July. GO somewhere tropical so you can get a bit of sunshine. You need to get that white body into the sunshine from time to time… Or I’m gonna have to start calling you Casper.

Sophie: Hhehehe. Bitch.

Steph: Seriously, do you want me to help you plan it? it’ll be great… You just need to pick a date, and then get work to approve a day or two of leave so you can really make a proper break out of it. I’ll help you organise flights and hotels and stuff. Oh yay, now I’m excited!!

Sophie: You can’t help yourself, can you?

Steph: Not really. Besides, what are sisters for. It’ll be fun… Then when I need you to look after Emily, I’m gonna call in that favour. hehehe

Sophie: Yeah, yeah. No, I don’t think I want to go away to connect.

Steph: What do you mean?

Sophie: I mean, I think I’d rather disconnect instead.

Steph: What do you mean?

Sophie: I think I want to leave Nathan.

Steph: Wait, what?

Sophie: Yeah, I think I want to leave Nathan.

Steph: Oh my god, honey, why? What’s going on?

Sophie: Oh, well, it’s just… there’s been a few issues going on, and I’m not really sure what to do but I don’t think I want to stay married anymore. I think I want to get a divorce.

Steph: Wait, back the fuck up. You want to get divorced? Shit, honey, that’s serious. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Has he hurt you at all… I swear to god…

Sophie: No, no, it’s nothing like that. You know I’d never allow him to lay a hand on me…

Steph: Yeah, well good. If he did, I’d fucking kill him.

Sophie: Hehehe. Anyway, *sigh* I’m not sure how exactly to say this to you, but thing’s aren’t great with Nathan and I.

Steph: What? Wh-what do you mean?

Sophie: Um… there’s been a lot of problems in our marriage. A lot of problems… and I’m not sure what to do about them anymore.

Steph: What do you mean, problems? Is everything okay? Why do I not know about this? Why haven’t you said anything.

Sophie: I.. I just… I didn’t want other people to know about my personal life, because I don’t want people talking about me behind my back. I… *sigh* I just thought that I’d be able to handle everything by myself. I thought if I ignored it, then it would be fine; that it would go away and everything would go back to normal.

Steph: Um, are you kidding me? What the fuck, Soph? What’s happening? You know you can tell me anything… ANYTHING!! Why haven’t you told me anything before?

Sophie: I was too scared. I didn’t want you to judge me.

Steph: Of course I’m going to judge you, I’m your sister, that’s what I do.

Sophie: Steph…

Steph: I’m kidding. You know I’m always here for you. I’d do anything for you, I love you.

Sophie: I just don’t know what to do… I know I need to do something, but I’m not sure what. I know that our relationship has changed, well, for me it has, and I know that it’s not getting better. I know that something needs to be done, and I think that I need to divorce him. But I’m just too scared to say anything to him in case he blows up again like he did last time. I don’t want to get the kids involved, but if we get divorced, then they’re going to be involved regardless, and I don’t want to put that on them – it’s just too much too handle, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do… I’m scared Steph…

Steph: Hang on, hang on… do you want me to come over?

Sophie: NO! No, please don’t. You know how he feels about me having people over… I don’t want to upset him.

Steph: This isn’t you. You’re acting like a scared little puppy. Do you want to meet me for coffee instead, and we can go to Luciana’s for coffee and talk?

Sophie: No, I have to be here when he gets home, or he’ll get mad again. I don’t want to make him mad.

Steph: What the fuck has gotten into you. Are you sure he’s not hurting you. Is he hurting you?

Sophie: No. Don’t be silly.

Steph: You’re acting like one of those crazy bitches from the news… those ones with abusive partners, but they love them… what’s that called again… ‘Fucking Crazy Stupid Bitch Syndrome’??

Sophie: I think you mean Stockholm Syndrome?

Steph: Whatever. Either way, that’s what you’re sounding like. You’re starting to scare me – tell me what’s going on!!

Sophie: He’s not hurting me…

Steph: SOPHIE! FUCKING TELL ME!!

Sophie: I found out Nathan had an affair.

Steph: what?

Sophie: Well, I think he had an affair.

Steph: HE FUCKING WHAT??

Sophie: I’m not entirely…

Steph: *interrupts* I’LL FUCKING KILL HIM MYSELF!!

Sophie: Steph… It’s not..

Steph: SERIOUSLY… I WILL COME OVER THERE AND FUCKING KILL HIM…

Sophie: Steph… Stop! I don’t know for sure if he’s had or is having an affair, but I’ve found stuff to suggest that maybe he is…

Steph: Well, did you ask him about it?

Sophie: No. Oh god no, of course not.

Steph: Well why the fuck not? You have a right to know!

Sophie: I only found out because I was snooping through his phone.

Steph: Well, did you have any reason to suspect anything to warrant searching his phone…

Sophie: I know it was wrong…

Steph: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Listen to what you’re saying. You think it was wrong to go snooping through his phone, because you had reason to suspect something was wrong. How about HE SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HAVING A FUCKING AFFAIR IN THE FIRST PLACE TO WARRANT YOU SNOOPING AROUND!!! What a cunt!! What a dirty, low-life, scum-sucking son-of-a-cunt!!

Sophie: STEPH!! STOP IT!!

Steph: Seriously? are you kidding me?

Sophie: So anyway, I was looking through his phone one night, simply because I wanted to have a look at some of the photos we took on J-J’s birthday… but as I was flicking through them, I found a secret folder marked ‘Private’.

Steph: Well, naturally you’re going to want to see what’s in there…

Sophie: But it’s got a password on it.

Steph: OF COURSE IT DOES. Which means he doesn’t want anybody else to see what’s in it…

Sophie: Exactly. So I tried a few different password combinations, and finally unlocked it, and there they were…

Steph: What?

Sophie: An entire folder full of photos of all these different women.

Steph: What, like porn?

Sophie: Well, not unless one of those ladies happens to also be the mother of one of the kids J-J goes to school with…

Steph: WHAT?

Sophie: Yeah. There were photos of her in different types on underwear, lingerie, and a whole heap of naked ones… and even really naked ones…

Steph: What do you mean really naked?

Sophie: I’m talking like I can literally see what the bitch ate for breakfast…. or she just got fisted before taking the photo…

Steph: OH MY GOD, FUCKING GROSS!!

Sophie: Yeah… but there were a few other women in there as well. Not porn shots or anything, but actual real everyday women… So then I went through his messages. He’s been messaging a few different women as well…

Steph: What a cunt!!

Sophie: Stop using that word! I hate that word!

Steph: I know you do, but it’s the only word to describe him right now…

Sophie: Anyway, so I found a couple of different messages… going on about how he had a great time and we should meet up again… or wanting to know if they were available for a lunch-time meeting… or one of my favourites ‘next time, you can go down on me in the backrow instead’… or my personal favourite, and I quote ‘I’ll just tell her that I’m working late, and then I’m going to drive over to your place, rip your clothes off and destroy that wet pussy of yours so you can’t stand proplerly’.

Steph: *silence*

Sophie: Steph? Steph, are you there?

*silence*

Sophie: Steeeph?? Are you still there?? Damnit, I lost her…

Steph: No, No, I’m still here… I’m just… I don’t know what to say… I’m lost for words.

Sophie: Yeah… I know what you mean.

Steph: No, I just don’t know what to say, because the rage that is rapidly building inside of me is so overwhelming THAT I CAN’T STRING A FUCKING SENTENCE TOGETHER, BECAUSE ALL I WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW, IS FIND THAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH AND LITERALLY TEAR HIM THE FUCK APART. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS?? SERIOUSLY?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM. I WILL FUCKING KILL HIM… SOPHIE… YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. HE’S A DEAD MAN.. A FUCKING DEAD MAN!!

Sophie: I know, I know, and this is why I didn’t tell you anything. I knew you’d get upset.

Steph: UPSET? UPSET?! REALLY? FUCKING REALLY? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW CAN YOU BE SO FUCKING CALM WHEN YOUR CUNT OF A CHEATING HUSBAND IS A FUCKING ARSEHOLE!! I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’RE NOT SO FUCKING ANGRY. I’M… I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT…

Sophie: I think it’s called rage, and yes, I’ve been there. In fact, most of the time when I see him, I just feel pure rage, but I don’t dare confront him about it. I don’t want to upset him.

Steph: See, that’s your problem right there… ‘Crazy Bitch Syndrome’. NOBODY should ever feel like that in their relationship. Why are you so afraid to call him out on it? What’s got you so scared? You said that he’s never hit you… so then why is it that you can’t confront him and fight about it like normal people??

Sophie: I just… I can’t. Last time I confronted him about something, he got so mad. I was so scared. Not for me, but for the kids.

Steph: If he hasn’t hit you, or threatened to hit you, then there’s nothing to be afraid of. Did he threaten the kids?

Sophie: No.

Steph: Well, then did he threaten to divorce you?

Sophie: No.

Steph: Kick you out?

Sophie: No, nothing like that.

Steph: Then what? What are you so afraid of?

Sophie: *exhales* So, remember a couple of years ago, when we went to Simone and Peter’s dress-up dinner party?

Steph: Yeah.

Sophie: Well, do you remember the costumes that we had?

Steph: Yeah, um… Bonnie and Clyde or something, right?

Sophie: Yeah, well, I kept telling him about the party that was coming up, and asking him if he had any suggestions for a costume, and he said no. I asked him, and I asked him, and I asked him so many times, and then all of a sudden it was the day before, and we hadn’t organised anything, so I went to costume hire place and just got the outfits.

Steph: Yeah…

Sophie: Well, when he got home, he was already so mad, and I didn’t want to show him the costume… but it was too late, and we just had to get ready and head over straight away so we weren’t late.

Steph: Yeah…?

Sophie: He was so angry. WE were in the car and he didn’t say a word to me. Even at the party, he was acting as though everything was fine, and a couple of times when I went to kiss him, he pulled away and told me to “get the fuck away from him”.

Steph: What a prick!

Sophie: It was like that the whole night. Even after we’d gotten home. I decided to have a drink, so i opened a bottle of wine and he came into the kitchen, and got right up to my ear and said “if you ever do shit like that again, I’m going to fucking kill you, and make it look like an accident. I will shoot you in your sleep, and shoot myself to make it look like an armed robbery. Do you understand?!” And then walked off upstairs.

Steph: what. The. Fuck?!

Sophie: Yeah. I know, right.

Steph: So what did you do?

Sophie: Well, I didn’t know what to do. My husband had just threatened to kill me, Steph. The first thing I thought of was, ‘oh my god, I need to get the fuck out of this house!’, but I couldn’t leave the kids, if he was going to threaten me like that, then who’s to say that he wouldn’t do the exact same thing to the kids, or worse… And I wanted to go to the cops, but what would that do? ‘Oh, yes, excuse me officer, my husband has just threatened to kill me, but if you ask him about it, he’ll just say that I was dreaming, or I was drunk because I had a glass or two of wine, and then as soon as you leave, he’ll probably beat me to within an inch of my life, or actually kill me.’ They’ll just think I’m a raving lunatic… And then of course, what happens to the boys??

Steph: Okay, clearly you’re so incredibly fucking terrified, because you obviously don’t understand the severity of this situation, If your husband has threatened to kill you, then you do something about it. You take the kids and you get the fuck out of there. He’ll, I’ll drop everything and come with you just to make sure that you’re not alone. But apart from that, the first thing you should do is go to fucking cops.

Sophie: Yeah, I know, I know, but I was just too scared. He was already so angry, and if I involved the police he’d be even more upset because I went behind his back and told somebody else about our business.

Steph: bitch, you have lost the fucking plot. What do you mean? He’d get upset because you told somebody…. You mean BECAUSE YOU TOLD SOMEBODY THAT YOUR BATSHIT FUCKING CRAZY HUSBAND THREATENED TO FUCKING KILL YOU!! No, sorry, that’s just totally fucked up. You, are totally fucked up.

*pause*

And you mean to tell me, that you’ve been having to deal with this for the last few years?

Sophie: …yeah.

Steph: And you’ve never told anybody about this.

Sophie: Nope. You’re the first person I’ve ever told.

Steph: I’m so glad that you finally told somebody. This is not on. We need to do something. We need to go to the cops. We need to get you and the boys out of there sooner rather than later. Have you got any cash out away?

Sophie: Um, we’ve got a bit saved up in one of our savings accounts…

Steph: Right. I’ve got a bit of cash saved up as well. I’m getting you out of there. We’ll pack up some stuff and disappear.

Sophie: Well, I can’t just disappear without saying anything. Can you imagine what would happen? Steph! No! I can’t!

Steph: Well you can’t stay there. Even if you want to take a chance that he’s just full of shit and just shooting his mouth off, it’s not safe for you there.

Sophie: I know what you’re saying, trust me, I hear what you’re saying, but this has been going on for so long already…

Steph: Oh, so then his bark is worse than his bite.

Sophie: Well, I have been making sure that I don’t do anything to instigate a situation. I know where the line is, and I know not to cross it. It’s been fine, so long as I don’t cross the line, but when he does, then it’s pretty bad.

Steph: I don’t want to hear this any more. I just want to get you out of there. Now. I need you to get out of there NOW!!

Sophie: *sigh*… No, you’re starting to overreact. I get that you’re worried, trust me, honey, I get that and I love you for being so protective, but I don’t need to just… runaway from everything. I can’t. I just can’t.

Steph: But what if you stay and something happens. I mean, it’s not like he’s actually going to shoot you, but it’s bad enough that he’d make threats like that… as though he’s put perhaps a bit too much thought into that whole situation.

Sophie. Well, I did go and make sure that there were no bullets in the gun. I threw them away in the rubbish.

Steph: Huh?

Sophie. The gun. Nathan’s gun. I know where he hides it, and I’ve thrown out all the bullets.

Steph: Hang on.. HE’S GOT A GUN?!?

Sophie: Well, yeah, why do you think he says he’s going to shoot me. He’s told me a number of times that there’s a bullet with my name written on it…

Steph. I can’t listen to this any more. This is just spiraling out of control more and more every time you open your god damn mouth. Now, either you get your shit together and you go to the cops and turn that bastard in…  or I’ll fucking do it for you.

Sophie: …Steph…

Steph: No. I’m fucking serious. You might be the crazy bitch in your bullshit marriage, but that shit is a mess and you need to involve the police. Bottom line: call the cops.

Sophie: …Steph, don’t be like that.

Steph: No. I’m not prepared to take a chance… either you call the cops, or I will.

Sophie hears movement in the next room

Sophie: Shit. Honey, I gotta go. I’m not going to call the cops and neither are you. Just drop it. Love you. I’ll call you later. I gotta go. Bye. bye.

Steph: Soph! Wait… I…

Sophie hangs up the phone and takes a moment to lean against the sink. She let out a great big sigh as she looked out the window and into the distance. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt as though this moment was the beginning of the end, or at least the next chapter of her life. She stood up and turned around and let out a shriek.

Sophie: JESUS! Nathan you scared the shit out of me

Nathan: Sorry dear. Are you okay?

Sophie: I didn’t hear you come in. You startled me.

Nathan: So who were you talking to?

Sophie: Oh nobody. Just Steph.

Nathan: Uh-huh. And what were you talking about?

Sophie: Oh nothing, just a bit of a catch up.

Nathan. Oh, okay. So you two weren’t plotting and scheming?

Nathan started to walk around the end of the island bench towards Sophie. Sophie, meanwhile started to back-away with extreme cautfion.

Sophie: I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…

Nathan: Oh, okay. So you weren’t talking about running away and calling the cops?

Sophie: No, of course not. Don’t be stupid.

Nathan suddenly lunged at Sophie. She jumped back, but he grabbed her dress, ripping the material as she frantically tried pulling away from him. His hand slipped, and she tripped over his forearm, stumbling briefly before falling down. She kicked her legs as a means to try and escape, but it didn’t work. He grabbed her ankles, and pulled her across the floor as she tried to claw away from him. She kicked and she screamed, as he pulled her closer, until he had climbed on top her. She tried shaking as violently as she good, but to no avail. With one of his hands, he grabbed her tightly around the throat and slowly began to squeeze. The colour in her face started to change colour, and she began struggling to breathe. He knew that all he needed to do was just squeeze a little harder and she’d be out cold. Permanently. Then he realised that he’d be charged with first-degree murder, and he couldn’t go through that.

*SMACK!*

There was the sound of an almighty smack. Sophie screamed and turned her head away.

Nathan: SEE WHAT YOU MAKE ME DO? WHY DO YOU DO THIS?

Sophie was left laying on the floor shaking, crying, and nursing the bright red hand-print on the side of her face.

Nathan: I TOLD YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH! I FUCKING TOLD YOU NOT TO CROSS ME. EVER!!

Sophie: *through her tears* I’m so sorry darling. I didn’t do anything. It was all Stephanie. She was doing all the talking. I kept telling her she was being ridiculous. I’d never do anything to upset you like that. I love you, baby. I love you so much. I’m sorry that I upset you.

Nathan stood up, and stood over Sophie, before unleashing a powerful and brutal kick to her abdomen, completely winding her and making her double over in excruciating pain. She coughed and wheezed as she tried to gulp down some oxygen, choking from her damaged oesophagus.

Sophie rolled over to see Nathan walking away and up the stairs. She let out a deep, painful moan as she held her abdomen. She took a moment to compose herself, before she began to crawl onto her hands and knees and use the back of a kitchen stool to help her stand up. She managed to make it to her feet, and slumped over the stool in sheer agony, and crying uncontrollably.

From the other end of the kitchen she heard a voice.

JJ: Mummy, are you okay? Why did daddy hurt you again?

Sophie felt as though her entire world has just crumbled around her. The last thing she ever wanted was for either of her children to witness something so horrific. Needless to say she didn’t know how to react if they saw it a second time.

Daily Prompt: Now You See Me

You have a secret superpower: the ability to appear and disappear at will. When and where will you use this new superpower? Tell us a story.

I remember when I was younger, I would often write stories about a boy who could either make himself go invisible, or, had the ability to fly. Sometimes even both.

I vaguely remember one of these stories I wrote, was about a boy. I remember that I wrote it for a creative / free writing assessment task. I still remember the day I wrote it. I was in my english class, full of dickheads. Somebody had thrown a small pot of glue at the fan on the ceiling, and it exploded, and lumpy, chunky translucent globs went flying all over the classroom. It was all over the walls, all over the floor, and all over the students. They, the bullies, thought it was hilarious, so they did it again. Then they followed up with a couple of bananas. When the teacher walked in, she was beside herself. She demanded to know who was responsible, but everybody was too afraid of the bullies to say anything, so the whole class received lunchtime detention for a whole week. That afternoon, after school, I went and told the teacher who was responsible. She said she would keep it anonymous.

She obviously didn’t understand what anonymous actually meant. She turned around and told them that I was the one who demonstrated the most confidence to stand up for my classmates, and that they should all thank me for getting them off lunchtime detention.

…fucking retard.

Although I wrote it about 13 years ago, and I don’t have an actual copy of it anywhere, I can still pretty much remember the foundation and structure of it. It went a little like this:

________________________________________________________________________

He was different to all the other boys in his school. He liked dancing. He liked reading. He loved art. And writing. And drama.

He didn’t like football. He wasn’t interested in getting into trouble. He wasn’t into sports, either. A lot of the time, he would fake an injury or an illness just to get out of P.E. (Phys. Ed.) class. Sometimes, he’d even forge his mum’s signature on a note, because he was that desperate to not be involved.

He didn’t like school that much. He had a very small, close circle of friends. A lot of the other kids would pick on him. Daily. Everyday he would be bullied. They would call him names. Constantly.

Poofter.

Faggot.

Retard.

Loser.

Gaybo.

Homo.

Dickhead.

Pansy.

Every. Single. Day. Multiple times a day.

Sometimes he’d be thrown against a locker. Or have food thrown at him. Or he’d get his books knocked out of his hands. Sometimes the bullies would take his backpack and play keep-away and then throw it in the bin. A lot of the time his belongings ended up in the bin. Once they threw firecrackers at him. Once they threw a bomb bag at him, it landed on his backpack and exploded – some white substance went everywhere. It smelt like rotten egg and went solid like PVA glue. It ended up in his hair and he had to have it cut out.

He made complaints to his teachers, and they did nothing. He made complaints to his school principal, who also did nothing. A couple of teachers suggested that he was bringing it on himself. That he was causing it. One teacher told him he was just being ridiculous. Another teacher told him to stop acting like a child. One teacher actually stopped and sat down to listen to him, and as soon as they asked what was wrong, he broke down into tears in front of the teacher. They took him down to the Deputy Principal, and later that afternoon, all the bullies were called into his office.

Nothing happened to them. They were given a stern talking to, and basically told to never do it again.

The next day, they attacked.

They threw glue at him just before the school assembly started; threw water bombs at him just before he walked into class; filled his backpack with flour; stuck all the pages of a textbook together; cut a giant hole in the centre of a workbook; broke into his locker and threw the contents out onto the floor in the hallway. All of this happened in front of multiple teachers, who all turned a blind eye, and quickly looked the other way.

Out of sight, out of mind.

 

Sometimes he would wake up in the morning, and dread having to go to school, because he knew what would happen. Sometimes he’d find himself crying in the toilets. Sometimes, he’d feign an injury, just to go to sick bay and get sent home. He hated school. He was miserable. Sometimes, he would come home from school, fall onto the bed, and cry into his pillow until he fell asleep. Sometimes he would just refuse to go to school.

In his dreams he was strong, and he had magical powers. He could make himself invisible. In his dreams, he would stand up to his bullies. He would shout at them to stop, and confront them. He would be able to turn invisible, and then avoid their attacks. Initially, when he would retaliate, it started off simply by pushing them into each other, or knocking their heads together in cartoons. Sometimes he’d push them into puddles, or throw rubbish at them. The rest of the students would all see it happen. They’d all witness these bullies getting their just desserts. They would all cheer and he would be the hero.

If only!

As time passed, the dreams progressively more violent. He would turn invisible and start shoving them into walls, or picking them up and throwing them in giant rubbish bins and close the lids on them. Soon enough he was wielding weapons like metal bars, tree branches and bricks. Breaking noses, and arms; dislocating shoulders and smashing knee caps.

Soon enough his dreams stopped taking place in the school playground. He’d turn invisible and follow his tormentors home. Silently observing the interactions they had with their families. Trying to understand why they were full of so much hate towards him. Why were they constantly victimising him? The worse the bullies acted, the more deadly things were in his dreams. Sometimes he dreamt about turning invisible and harming himself, just so he could write their names in blood before he died. Sometimes he would be invisible and floating. Watching over them as they slept, smothering them with a pillow, or stabbing them when they were alone. Watching them die slowly, and painfully. Oh so painfully.

By the time he graduated high school, the dreams were all the same. They were all about death. Either his death, or the bullies death. And they always died violently. The last dream he had, was of one particular bully, the ring leader of the group. Again, he was invisible and floating, but he had developed super-human powers. He was now able to lift and move objects just using his mind. He didn’t understand how he could do it, he just knew that he could. He had a vision in his head. The Ring Leader had gotten into a car, and was on his way towards the school. It was the middle of the night, and there was nobody around.

As the ring leader drove up the hill, towards the school, He used his powers to drop a petrol tanker truck out of the sky, and drop it on the car. Crushing it instantly. He floated down to the ground, and became visible. He stood there waiting for somebody to come out to investigate what all the noise was, but nobody appeared. No other cars drove past. It was as though they were the only two people left. The petrol was gushing out of the truck and all over the car, pouring in through the shattered windscreen. The Ring Leader was screaming out for help. His eyes, blinded by blood from the cut on his forehead, he was trapped in the drivers seat.

He started laughing to himself. The Ring Leader heard the laughter and called out for help. He just kept walking closer and closer to the car. He crouched down to get right next to his ear and softly said ‘well, well, well… it would appear that you’ve gotten yourself into a spot of bother Mr Tinder*.’

‘OH GOD, PLEASE HELP ME!! GET ME OUTTA HERE!! I CAN’T SEE!!’

‘Well, see, there’s the problem. I could help you. I could easily make all of this stop, but you’ve been a very bad boy, Tinder. A VERY BAD BOY. And bad boys don’t deserve to be helped. They deserve everything you get.’

‘WHO ARE YOU? JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!!’

‘Sorry, Tinder. That’s not going to happen. I’m going to stand here and enjoy watching you die. This is what you get. This is your karma. This is what happens when you spend years tearing somebody apart, destroying their spirit day after day, week after week, month after month, and think that it’s okay to do so. You are nothing but a vile excuse for a human being and you do not deserve to even BREATHE the same air as me. You have made my life a living hell every single day, but not anymore. I’m freeing myself from you. You’re nothing but a demon, and it’s time for you to go.’

And with that, he snapped his fingers and the car erupted into a giant fireball. At the flames engulfed the car, he heard nothing but screaming. He turned his back and walked away.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

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