White Roses

“NO! You don’t need to explain it to me! I KNOW!” John shouted at me, his anger welling up inside of him. I knew I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I shouldn’t have asked where he had been all night. It was too late for me to take it back. I wanted to stuff the words back into my mouth, but he was too far gone into one of his episodes to even realize that it was him who started yelling in the first place. John was a different man in anger, and his mind seemed to tell him that everyone was out to get him. Everyone wanted to hurt him. It was all too clear that this time it wasn’t going to go away as quickly as the times before. His condition was getting worse.

         I always knew my husband had a history of alcohol abuse in his family, but he always reassured me that nothing was wrong with him in particular. He was always so kind to me, so caring. He was a sweet person, always compassionate to others and he never used to get upset at much of anything. I thought it wasn’t in his nature.  John loved to take me to new places, and we had two wonderful children together after getting married. Life was full of bliss and happiness, like staying in a beautiful hotel over a long vacation. Our castle of dreams started to crumble around October last year. We woke up from the dream, and into reality.

He lost his job soon after having our second little girl, Amarina. It wasn’t his fault, they told him. It was just that the budget cuts meant they had to lay a few mechanics off the payroll. To ease his pain, he began to consume a little alcohol. He knew how much he was drinking, and he promised he knew when to stop.  It started out with one beer, which seemed innocent enough to me, since that’s all I had ever been able to withstand. I hated alcohol, but he was very depressed. I thought a little beer wouldn’t hurt anything. Then, it escalated to two, occasionally three or more beers.

It was becoming worse, and he started becoming bitter to me. John snapped at me on numerous occasions. I let it slide, thinking it would pass. I thought my knight in shining armor would return soon, and take me back to the dream we had built for ourselves. It didn’t turn out like that at all. The man I loved so dearly was gone away. My perfect soul mate was turning into a stranger in my life. He was replaced with a draconian being, which was unknown to me and to my young children. Then, the shattered dreams changed into a raging nightmare.

I never expected it, but I should’ve known all along, what with the alcohol abuse and wild mood swings. He struck me across my face with his palm. I screamed in pain, and looked him dead in his dark blue eyes, and to my horror, I saw no remorse. My heart cried out to him, but he was deaf to my pain. Even though his eyes looked glazed from drinking, I still felt as though he knew what he was doing, and felt no emotion towards me at all. He only felt anger at my constant begging him to stop drinking. I knew that I had to wake up from this dream. I knew this behavior had to stop.

Of course, that’s how it began anyway. I knew I had to resolve the issue, but sometimes victims of abuse are known to put it off, thinking it will all go away. I kept thinking to myself, He’ll get better tomorrow. He’ll get better eventually. It’s my fault; I’m causing him too much stress. Unfortunately, I never said a word about his beatings to anyone. I only prayed at night that hurting me senselessly would satisfy this mean streak that had risen in him. I wanted desperately to protect my children. I knew it was wrong, and that no one deserves abuse, but I did it anyway. Every night, I would work on a demanding project for work, or if I didn’t have a project at that moment, I would pretend I did. Then, John, tired from his latest episode would fall asleep, and I’d sneak into the closet and pull out an old green blanket we used to take camping with us. I would go into the bathroom and examine my bruises in the fluorescent lights. They turned colors after a few days. They were sickly colors like dark yellows, light greens, and blues, like a worn dish towel used to clean up a banquet of some kind. This made me sick to my stomach, and I tried very hard to hide the awful scars from my daughters. I did it for their innocence, but I hid them also because I was ashamed in myself.

I’d sleep on the couch about three nights a week by the time Demi was fourteen. Even my sweet little Amarina, who was only three years old, knew there was something wrong with her mother. Every morning I would wake up at about seven in the morning, and a small bouquet of long-stemmed, gorgeous white roses would be on the floor. I knew they were from him somehow, although I never asked directly. He’d give Demi and Amarina special gifts, too. John would buy them small toys, and as they got older, CDs that they wanted, or candy from the shop downtown. Eventually, Demi caught on to what was really happening. She came to me one night, telling me she didn’t want to accept any more gifts through her tears. I told her that it was difficult, but she’d have to, in order to keep the peace. Looking back, I realize I only did that to keep our family from falling apart. It was a last-ditch effort each time, but it continued to work consistently. I should have never let it happen. I know now I didn’t deserve any of the abuse I received. So, the beatings continued until Demi turned sixteen.

“John…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you I just wanted to ask where...”

“If WHAT? What do you want from me? You think I was sleeping around, don’t you?! YOU’RE the one with the guilty conscience! IT WAS YOU!”

“No…Honey, I would never...”

“I KNOW YOU DID! WHO WAS HE?!”

He shook me until I could smell the alcohol on his breath so pungently that my eyes started to water. Maybe it was also crying, but either way, tears streamed down my face as he gripped me by the shoulders. My bones felt as though they were being crushed under the weight of a boulder. I wanted it all to stop so badly. I wanted it all to go away. I opened my eyes ever so slightly to see his red face staring into my eyes. It was like looking into fire six feet under. My eyes shifted around the room, and I saw Demi standing there in the hallway watching it all happen.

John didn’t see her with his back turned to me. I looked to her, and used my eyes to tell her to walk away. Then, Amarina appeared behind her, and although she was only six, she was smart enough to keep quiet. My girls watched in horror as their loving father slapped every vulnerable part of me. Then, he grabbed me by the throat and threw me across the hard wood floor. I landed awkwardly, hitting my head with such force that I thought I was bleeding. Luckily, I was only bruised. I saw hot tears begin to stream down Demi’s face, and Amarina tried to step forward. I think she wanted to help, but Demi knew better than to put her little sister into danger. She quickly pulled Amarina back behind the door where I could no longer see them, and they couldn’t watch my own hell unfold before me. Even after about a half an hour, it still continued. The yelling and the accusing went on until I could take no more. It was like being kicked when I was already down. An hour later, nine at night, he finally gave up. I had stayed on the floor the whole time, trying to protect myself from any more blows. John went back to the bedroom and shut the door. I was left alone to my thoughts.

         The next day was when everything changed forever. I woke up out of bed, and looked in the mirror. My big brown eyes had dark circles under them, and my head had a nasty bruise on it from last night. I knew I would have to cover that up with my make-up. I curled my hair like normal, letting it cascade into a long silky curtain, in the same way that John always admired. He said it framed my thin face and fragile appearance so well. I deemed myself to look normal enough, and walked out to the kitchen to start breakfast for Amarina and Demi. It was 7:30 a.m., and I started making coffee before John woke up. That would put him in a good mood, even if the hangover wore off. Demi and Amarina came out to the kitchen, both looking sleepy. Amarina climbed up into her chair, and Demi walked around the table to do the same. She stopped short and looked at me. I knew what she was thinking, but I didn’t say anything. She stepped forward, and touched my head. It was where the bruise was at, and I winced in pain.

“Mom…” she whispered, looking heartbroken. Her eyes were watering up.

“Don’t…cry…” I managed to choke out in reply. I could see how much stress this was putting on her.

“Mommy, I’m hungry!” Amarina said impatiently.

I looked over to my sweet little child. Amarina was so innocent, and I didn’t want to do this to her anymore. I was upset with myself.

My eyes darted back and forth between them, and settled on Amarina. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll get it for you in one second.” I told her.

I looked back to Demi. I opened my mouth to say something, when John walked out to join us. Demi went silent. The only sound was Amarina smacking her plastic cup against the table, like a beggar asking for spare change. John looked in my direction and smiled.

“Good morning, honey. How are you?” he asked me sweetly. I knew this was how it worked. I noticed that he wasn’t in his pajamas. The gifts would come next. As if on cue, he came up to Demi.

“Hi, sweetheart, I have a little present for you! I have one for you, too, Rena!” He bellowed happily pulling out a small box from his pocket.

“This is for you, Demi. I hope you like it.”

Demi took the small box with hesitation, but opened it up to reveal a beautiful gold necklace with a little rhinestone D charm.

“Thank you, Dad.” Demi said quietly. She took the cereal I poured for her and headed back into her bedroom. John stared at her as she disappeared into the hallway, looking a little hurt. He brightened when he pulled out a stuffed animal from his coat.

“Do you like this, Amarina? I got it just for you!” he said holding it out for her with pride.

“Yes I do, Daddy! I love cats! It’s name is Missy now!” she shouted in glee, hugging the little white cat.

He looked to me and smiled the same big fake smile I had seen for nearly a year.

“I guess you got my flowers?” he asked me.

“Yes…I did.”  I said nervously eyeing the vase of flowers on the table. They were exquisite, and probably very expensive.

“I know the white roses are your favorite.”

“…I suppose they are…” I replied.

He seemed satisfied with my answer, and headed over to the fridge.

“I’m going out to work on a car with a friend of mine. I’ll be back tonight.” He said, pulling out a Bud Light from the open refrigerator. Even though it was only close to eight o’ clock, he could drink alcohol at any point in time now.

“Okay…” I said, trailing off with disdain about the alcohol. John remained unfazed. He grabbed his jacket, opened the door, and left me alone with the girls. There were no more kisses, no more affection between us. I felt completely indifferent to the man I had married ten years ago. Demi peered back out, and I saw tears streaming down her face. She walked over to Amarina, and stroked her long ash blonde hair, pulling it back absently into a ponytail. Amarina turned her head, and collapsed from her chair into Demi’s arms. Her dark blue eyes were clouded with worry and confusion. They were the same color as John’s.

She cried out to me, “Mommy, why did Daddy hit you?”

I tried to find an explanation, but I had none. Demi answered instead.

“Well, it’s a little complicated, Rena.” Demi said comfortingly

“I don’t get it! She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know…it’s hard to explain. Come on now, Rena. Don’t cry anymore…” Demi pleaded. Amarina was too young to know what was going on. I was pleased that Demi spared her from the horror that was really happening.

“Finish your breakfast, honey…” I told her softly. Amarina still looked upset, but in the end, she finished her Fruit Loops. She walked back to her room with Demi trailing behind.

         The day went slowly for me. I dreaded the moment he came home. Every time he went out, it was always the nightmare I had lived for so long. It resurfaced and attacked all at once. It was all too much to handle. I thought about this as I cleaned up the kitchen from dinner. I heard the car pull in the driveway. My heart pounded in my chest. The car door slammed. I had to be strong this time. I heard the front door shut. He stomped up the stairs.

Just ignore him, Amy. Don’t get involved. Think of your girls. I thought over and over in my head. Don’t be a coward.

“Hello, John,” I said nonchalantly chopping up vegetables for chicken salad.

“Hello, Amy,” John grumbled before slumping down into his seat at the dinner table.

We said nothing more, and the whole family ate dinner in silence. John spoke up first.

“Did you let it marinate long enough?” He growled at me.

“Umm…yes.” I replied quietly.

“It’s supposed to marinate for three hours.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I could’ve made it better.” He said with distaste, examining his chicken strip like it was an infectious disease.

“Well, you were busy today.” I shot back. A surge of anger went through me. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to be insulted. Maybe I was tired of getting so much less credit than deserved. One thing was absolutely clear. I was done.

“Oh, I was. Believe me,” He said louder, with more force.

“You still could’ve got home earlier. If you had helped, you wouldn’t complain. Maybe then it would be to your liking.” I retorted sharply. He was surprised at this. Tensions were running high. Our girls shifted  in their seats.

“Maybe if you weren’t so STUPID, you’d make it right!”

Demi gasped. His words struck me right where it hurt. I knew it was a complete lie. I just wasn’t backing down.

“I…am NOT stupid.” I said firmly.

He laughed. “Oh, yes you are. You can’t do anything right! I’m the only one who cares about this family anymore!”

“No, John, you think you support this family. You’re just a DRUNK!” I shouted angrily. It felt good to shout at him. I had been quiet for so long.

“I’m just a DRUNK?! YOU CHEAT! YOU’RE INCOMPETENT! I don’t like your attitude!” He jumped out of his chair, knocking his plate and glass unto the floor below. The glass shattered into pieces. Amarina screamed, and buried her face into Demi’s shoulder. I didn’t know where he was going, I just hoped it was farther away from our daughters. John grabbed a knife off the kitchen table. He raised it up into the air, and slammed it down.

“NO!” I screamed. He smacked the counter, leaving a deep gouge in it.

“Will you listen to me now, Amy?!” He shouted. He smacked the counter again in a different place. It left another gouge.

“Who do you think you are? You can’t tell ME what to do! YOU HAVE THE PROBLEM, AMY!” He left a third gouge. I started to cry, and suddenly remembered Demi and Amarina.

“GO!” I cried desperately trying to save their lives. John caught on too quick.

“Not so fast! He said, grabbing Amarina by the hair. She screeched in pain, and tried to run away. He pulled her to him, his large form nearly crushing her. Demi ran up to John, and tried to break his grip on Amarina.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Demi yelled, grabbing unto his arm. John shook her off, and she fell to the ground in the same way that I did the night before. She began to hyperventilate.

“John, STOP!” I shouted. I saw the knife he still had in his right hand.

“The only reason I’m with you is because of the kids. I’ll get rid of all of you! No one will come looking for you. They won’t even care! I’ll drop your bodies off somewhere in the woods.” he said sinisterly. I was so shocked. The situation was escalating fast. “I’LL BURN THIS WHOLE HOUSE DOWN!” he shouted. I felt as though he meant every word. In an effort to save her, I threw myself at him. John toppled to the ground, not expecting it. His head collided with the top of the counter. Amarina managed to scramble away, but I was not so lucky. Although he was only holding a steak knife, it plunged deep into my upper arm. I gasped in pain, but I stumbled to my feet to help my daughters. John was knocked unconscious from the blow to his head. I had to act fast now.

I helped Demi up from the ground with my good arm. “Listen to me, honey. You have to leave NOW. We don’t have much time. Demi, I need you to drive. You know where your aunt lives. Grab your things quickly. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine. GO.” I told them in a mad rush. My arm was bleeding heavily. It must’ve hit a vein or something, because blood was gushing out. Amarina sat on the floor and cried while Demi gathered their things. In five minutes, they were ready to head out.

“I love you.” I told them, fighting back more tears.

“We love you too, Mom.” Demi said sadly. I gave Demi and Amarina a hug, and they were gone. John was still unconscious when they made the turn that took them out of sight. I felt nearly numb from the loss of blood, but I couldn’t rest. I ran to the bedroom, and locked the door. I called 911, and on the first ring they picked up.

“This is 911. What is your emergency?” The person on the other line asked me.

“My husband is trying to hurt me. I need you to come quickly!”

“HEY! AMY, OPEN THIS DOOR!” John bellowed from the hallway, pounding his fist on the door. I didn’t hear the last question, so I just told them all the information I could.

“I’m bleeding from my upper arm…yes, he threatened me with a knife…”

A loud bang resonated through the house.

“COME OUT!” Another bang sounded.

“I’LL GET YOU!” The door split off its hinges. I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom. I turned the lock just in time.

He used his weapon to try to break down this door just the same. I was about to jump out the small bathroom window when the police finally arrived. I heard John screaming at them, but he soon quieted. I believe they did use force to take him away.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” the officer asked me.

I hesitated. Was the fight really over? I finally answered him with a little smile. Tears of joy poured down my face “Yes, officer, I’m all right now.”

The next day I filed for divorce, which was promptly carried out quickly, due to the obvious evidence of my arm wound. My girls and I moved back into our house after a few weeks. We felt at peace, but also felt guilty that we hadn’t admitted the issue John had to ourselves. He had needed help for a long time. We took so much emotionally and physically than I could’ve ever imagined. I became strong through the horrific experience. I knew that this sort of thing was not okay. I told my domestic violence story to other people I knew, hoping the movement could spread. We all make excuses for it, but we don’t recognize the signs as quickly as we should. If other people did realize it, lives could be saved.

A year after my divorce from John, I received a package in the mail. It was wrapped formally, and looked very expensive. I wondered who would send such a package to me. I thought maybe it was for Demi’s birthday, and relatives from far away sent a present. I crumpled the blue tissue paper to reveal a rectangular pink box, with a bow around it. I untied the bow, and took off the lid with care. I stopped short. In the box, neatly placed, laid a bouquet of white roses.