Torture | Blog of a Mad Black Woman

The physical abuse *Steve unleashed upon me was unbearable. I have no idea how I made it through what I did. Although dark skinned, bruises would actually show on me. These are images I took just before I left *Steve in March 2013. The dates on the images cannot be changed.

On January 29th 2013, I suffered from bruising (although not very clear in this image), where Steve tried to tie me up in front of our six week old son. Trying to leave the mouldy room (see “Back In Georgia, Staying In Marietta“) to get some air, he told me I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Deciding that going out would actually be the best thing to do, meaning going against what he said, he thought it would be better to pin me down on the bed and try to tie me up.

On February 9th 2013, on one of many occasions, Steve tried to strangle me in front of our seven and a half week old son. Choking the life out of me, I reached up and tried to push him off of me. Because both his hands were firmly around my neck, so couldn’t push my hands away, he bit my arm without losing grip of my neck. Seriously, I saw my life flash before me. He held on for so long.

My son…

On March 2nd 2013, he shut my fingers in the door and held it there for quite some time, when I was trying to get away from him. Again, this was in front of our eleven week old son. I couldn’t straighten my fingers for days and could barely hold my son to look after him. Of course, I was not allowed to go to the hospital.

Needless to say I was in agony a lot of the time. I never want to experience that sort of ‘torture’ again. I’m just glad my son will not remember what happened, therefore, hopefully, will not continue the Domestic Abuse cycle.

(*Not his real name)

(Please note: I am aware of the fact that women hit/beat men as well. This image is referring to my experiences. It is not my intention to offend any male readers who too, have experienced Domestic Violence).

It’s easier for me to explain these particular ‘events’ in bullet-point form, as there are not any specific dates. Each happened on different occasions, numerous times, and therefore will not be in any particular order. Also, the abuse took place during and after my pregnancy – mainly during my second and third trimester.

I have only picked out five incidences to talk about, as there are too many to list. I suppose these are the ones which stand out… the ones that feel like only happened yesterday.

Because I disagreed with him, *Steve tried to suffocate me with a pillow. The first time was in my second trimester. Pinning me down on the bed (as usual), he grabbed the pillow because he was mad that I wanted to go for a walk on my own to get away from him. This was a common thing to his madness. The more I just need a break from him (and it wouldn’t matter if it was only for ten minutes or so), the more he didn’t want to let me go out. Even if I went into a different room, he’d follow me.

Frequently, Steve would grab me by my arms or legs, drag me into the windowless bathroom and lock me in. Why? There were no specific reasons. On one occasion, it was because I needed to lie down for a little while before we went out to do his food shopping. I was in pain from my pregnancy, so told him I needed to rest for a few minutes, hoping the pain would ease. He was so angry. “You’re having a text-book pregnancy, so stop acting like you’re in pain. There’s nothing wrong with you”. Another time, he tried to do the same thing, only this time, it was because once again, I wanted to get away from him.

One day in July 2012, I asked him why he no longer spoke of his daughter. Initially, he had come across a doting father. I cannot express the pain I felt next… Steve punched me in the face. It thought my jaw was broken. Apparently, I was not allowed to mention his daughter. This is the same daughter he wanted me to 1) look after if he won full custody of (see “Our Trip To See His Daughter In Montana“, and 2) the same daughter he wanted me to pay the lawyer for the custody battle. After stumbling, and crying out in pain for I assume, a few minutes (it felt a lot longer than that), Steve came up to me and checked my face. After his diagnosis of “You’re going to be fine”, he wouldn’t let me leave the apartment in case I called the police.

(Permanent mark on my left arm from Steve during my pregnancy).

Just after our son Max was born, Steve decided to take it upon himself to try to strangle me on a daily basis. By the end of it, after losing count of how many times he actually did this, it hurt to swallow my saliva. I’m sure it made him happy because I now definitely couldn’t eat – not that I was allowed to anyway. It was so bad, every time I tried to turn my head, there were loud ‘clicking’ noises from my neck. I’m surprised I didn’t suffer from Tunnel Vision as I could literally, only look straight ahead of me. Asking him to take me to the hospital, he refused saying they would arrest him, and that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, he checked my neck himself and told me I’d be just fine. Max was only a couple of weeks old.

We were having an argument just a few days after leaving the hospital with Max. Once again, I just wanted to get the hell away from him. Steve was pissed off because I had fallen asleep for thirty minutes after being awake for forty-eight hours, cleaning up his mess and looking after our baby. I should have been relaxing, as ordered by the doctor, as I had stitches from a caesarian. Rather than let me go, whilst holding our son, he slapped me so hard around the face, I lost my balance and landed on Max. The only saving Grace is that I landed on the bed. However, there were two major concerns for me at this moment in time. First and foremost, Max was a tiny, fragile baby. He only weighed 5lbs 11oz by the time we were released from hospital. “God please, don’t let my son be broken…“. I was frantic. Secondly, it felt like my stitches had burst. The sharp pain that shot through my body from the tugging of them felt like, what I can only describe as a number of red hot pokers being rammed into my body. I thought my insides would now be on the outside. In excruciating pain, I checked Max. He seemed OK. An appointment was already booked to see a paediatrician. (Turns out my little bundle of joy was just fine). As for me, my stitches were still in tact, but only because of the thick tape which had been used to keep the bandage on in the first place. I needed extra pain killers to help numb the pain as much as possible.

Looking back on it all, I truly hope that the many men and women suffering like this have the strength to leave. I’m certain I would have been dead by now. If he could kill my kittens, he’s more than capable of killing a human being. That’s the next stage, right?