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People ask why I didn't leave sooner. Why I didn't tell someone sooner. Why I just let him do what he did.
Why did I believe him? Why did I believe what he said about me?
Bitch. Whore. Stupid cunt.
Why didn't I tell my mom? I did.
Why didn't I tell the police? If my mom didn't believe me, why would a stranger?
Why didn't I just run away? I did. Twice. After that, I found that the punishment when he found me was not worth the one or two days of freedom. After that, I gave up. After the second time, I didn't try a third, because I believed I could never get away. In a way, I was right.
Why did I let him do that to me? Why did I let him beat me? Why did I let him abuse me?
Why?
I never let him do anything. I fought. I fought so much. Do you know where that got me? Fighting got me nowhere! Do you know what it's like to fight a losing battle? To fight against somebody three times as strong? To punch and kick and run away just for them to catch you and beat you until all the spirit and hope that fuelled your fight... is gone?
Do you know what it's like to see your mother laugh at you? To see the woman who is supposed to protect and love you sit by and let the man she married... let the man she married do that?
Do you know what it's like to drop so many hints, so many obvious hints, to teachers? To policemen? To doctors? To anyone? Just to anyone who would listen for two seconds?
I never let him do anything. He just took and took and took until I had no more strength. Until I had no more hope. Until he had drained all of my life from me, stolen it all, and used it against me.
Why didn't you--?
That's enough questions from you. Here's one for you:
Why, when people ask survivors of abuse questions, do they never ask why the abuser chose to abuse?
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