Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones: Ch. 2 Mutual Addiction (continued)


Reflections of A Woman’s Indiscretions

This book is dedicated to my mother Elena, grandmothers Josephine & Evril, & to all the Ladies in my life – Strong women I have seen Prevail no matter the circumstances or challenges.

Previously….

20131102-145624.jpgHe threw me around the room; tore the clothes off my body; and choked me out. I fell to the floor and I felt my body go limp; breathing became difficult–he must have noticed because he took a break from his rampage. Assuming that he was trying to regain his energy for round two, which I was not up for, I took the opportunity to sprint to the bathroom and locked myself in.

I found a corner on the bathroom floor near the shower; I brought my knees up to my chest, burying my face; and I cried uncontrollably. My heart was beating rapidly as though it was going to explode inside my chest. Just to think that three hours earlier I was consumed in his happiness, but now at this moment I was frightened for my life. I tried to calm myself, wondering how I was ever going to get out of this room, nonetheless the bathroom, alive.

~*~

A few minutes went by, then he started banging on the door threatening to throw my possessions away if I didn’t come out. Tauntingly he added,

“The shit you bought with my money, I’m taking back. You didn’t deserve it anyway.”

I sat there silently, refusing to respond. Every few minutes he would return to torment me:

“You gotta come out sooner or later and I’ll be here waiting!”

I sat in silence [“like, what the fuck?!”]. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t believe I was stuck sitting on the bathroom floor for two hours, half-naked. My mind began to work–thinking of ways to escape without coming in contact with him–and that’s when I remembered: the room’s front door and bathroom door were adjacent to each other. I figured that it would be easy enough to get out and run. I knew that if I didn’t make a move right now, I would be trapped all night. But first I had to grab my purse and clothes [I wasn’t trying to leave anything behind because I knew I wouldn’t see them again].

I stood up slowly, unlocking the door making minimal noise as possible. As I pushed the door open I peeked out and noticed that he was sitting on the bed; watching television like nothing happened. I looked over for my things and I found them sitting on the floor beside the dresser. It was now or never. I made a quick dash for it, grabbing my belongings and hurried back to the front door. I was relieved when I made it to the door but without warning he grabbed my bags and started dragging me back–dragging me back to Hell. I turned around to face him, with my back to the door, and we pulled on the bags like it was a game of tug of war–in this case Life or Death. Finally I made it out of the room, but I was still fighting with him for my things–still half naked. In desperation, I screamed,

“Help! Somebody, help me!” hoping to grab anyone’s attention.

My cry for help worked and suddenly he let go of his tight grip; I fell back against the wall and flat on my ass. Half-naked and without a second thought, I ran quickly down the hall to the stairs and looked back over my shoulder to see if he was behind me; he was out of sight. As soon as I made it safely to my car, I then zoomed straight to my girlfriend Faith’s house.

*Faith was Blu’s cousin. She lived in the apartment building that Blu’s parents’ owned–she actually lived next door to my in-laws. We became close right after I gave birth to my son. At this point we had been friends for eight years and I knew I could trust her. Even though she was Blu’s cousin, she was loyal to me. And to this day I still appreciate her and the friendship that we have today.

Once I made it to Faith’s place, I was embarrassed knowing that she would see me like this. And once she saw me, she already knew what happened to me–especially with my face all beaten up. She was so pissed when she saw me; but I still would not leave Slimm. So what could she say to make a difference?

For the remainder of the night I cried profusely–mostly trying to make sense out of nonsense. And when I awoke on the next day, my lip was black and blue; cut up; and swollen–this is what I looked like for my daughter’s 5th birthday celebration. I was hideous. I don’t even remember what I told my kids. Pathetic. I didn’t stay angry at Slimm, or away from Slimm. This was the self-inflicted pain of an addict.

STAY TUNED NEXT WEEK FOR THE NEXT PAGE OF SHARINE’S CHILLING NEW BOOK SERIES

 

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