Why I Left, Black & Blue Prayer Came True

I left Michael in September 1998.

The morning after he threw my son, then a small boy of 9, against his bicycle that leaned against his bedroom wall leaving him bloody and bruised. My prayer for black & blue came true, but it blossomed on my son...not me...which was my trigger to leave.  While the "good girl" in me found it difficult to stand up for myself...you don't mess with my kids. I had enough.  I was done, but it wasn't over.

A Ninja Turtle Popsicle

The incident leading to my departure all happened because Sean purchased an ice cream with his own chore money from the ice cream truck.  You see his little sister, age 6, wanted one too.. naturally.  But Erin already spent all of her money.  She ran in asking daddy to give her money to buy ice cream while I was cooking dinner.  typically Erin had her dad wrapped tightly around her little finger...he would do anything for her.  Not this time.  Instead of giving Erin money Michael instructed her to tell her brother he wasn't allowed to buy one.  As she ran out I told him how ridiculous it was not to give her some money AND to have her carry out the message.  Michael often pitted the kids against one another.  My objections angered him because he was watching baseball and couldn't be interrupted or bothered to go talk to Sean himself.  In fear of him taking it out on me, I shut my mouth and continued cooking.  Erin didn't reach her brother in time so she came back crying that Sean got an ice cream and she didn't.

Ninja Turtle Popsicle

Michael rose from his seat in a blind rage...more because his game was being interrupted than being upset over the ice cream.  Storming out of the house he went after Sean.  When I reached the front door Michael was dragging a crying Sean through the rocks by the front steps leaving bloody streaks running down his bare knees.  Sean didn't fear Michael.  He hated him. He provoked him by calling him names and standing tall in defiance...until Michael threw away his ice cream.  Furious at the injustice of his "dad's" actions they both fought verbally while I tried to stop it.  Sean insisted he could buy whatever he wanted with his own hard earned money.  Michael began to tell him...FINE...then you can also pay rent for using MY baseball bat with your hard earned money.  Due to this incident Sean refused to ever play his beloved sport again.  Michael continued his rant....It'll cost you 5 cents for each square of toilet paper you use to wipe your ass, a penny for every drop of water used to wash or flush the toilet and $2 per meal your mother makes you with MY money.  How's that?"  Sean called him a fat asshole...which I (out of hysteria & amazement at his boldness) laughed at...Sean grinned at me through hot tears...Michael did not. He grabbed Sean's ice cream (a Ninja Turtle Popsicle) out of the trash and ran it under hot water to dissolve down the drain.

I watched in horror as Michael made his full transition from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde there in our kitchen.  You can (still) see it in his face... his eyes go blank, his posture changes, his facial expression turns comically angry and red...it's like watching an actor's portrayal of being possessed by a demon.  Michael grabbed Sean by the shirt collar lifting him off the floor as he forced Sean to his room...away from me.  Michael said if I knew what was good for me I'd stay put...I froze in terror, but followed attempting to get Sean out of his grip.  He shoved me so that I fell part way down the basement stairs. Sean started hitting and kicking him for hurting his mom.  The screams still flood my senses 14 years later.  Erin flew down to help me up crying and yelling at her dad to STOP.  He didn't.

By the time I reached the top of the landing I heard a sickening THUMP as Sean's little body hit the bike.  Screams of pain and cursing filled the hallway.  Another thump and all I heard was deep sucking sobs from my son.  My heart fell.  Anger took over.  Forgetting the fear I ran to his room where Michael was blocking my entry.  I'm not sure how I ended up in the room, but there lay the crumpled form of my son on the floor with his bike on top of him.  This image was burned into my memory.  Erin is the only one that does not remember this horrible event.  Later Sean called 911 reporting the abuse that I was too afraid to do myself...because he was a child they hung up and called back.  Michael answered the phone nice as can be...oh it must've been a prank call from his son...he'll take care of it.  Oh god no.  I ran to Sean's room and stayed there the rest of the night to protect him from Michael.  Erin was already in his room...they fell asleep in my arms as I lay awake planning our escape.

The next morning after Michael left for work I called my parents.  Between my dad and brother's they had us packed up and moved out before Michael arrived home.  I left my platinum wedding ring with a note saying I wanted a divorce and not to contact me until he hears from my attorney.  I had enough.  Put a fork in me..I was done.

Both kids were in counselling with the psychologist by the end of the week.  I didn't want my kids scarred for life.  Little did I know what awaited us...the kids learned to keep secrets too...even from me.

Kristy