the unexpected beginning of bad luck

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
about a high school girl who got caught up with an abusive boyfriend.

Submitted: August 05, 2009

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Submitted: August 05, 2009

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Electives had just started for the trimester and I’d gotten robotics. I had no idea what robotics even was or what the class was even about, but I’d put it as my first choice on my elective from anyway because the rest of them sounded boring. For about ten minutes we sat in the classroom talking with others in the room before the teacher split us up into five groups and assigned us to a kit. The teacher (one of the few men to work at the school at the time) told us that in the kits was all of the equipment and instructions we needed to build a square robot. We were to have the robot built by the end of the week so we could program it in our first class of the next week.

My group started right away. Well, at least three of the five of us did. One guy in my group and I couldn’t get close enough to read the instructions or even touch the robot, there just wasn’t enough space. We wound up talking about everything we could think of and the class seemed to pass way too fast. Since the school gave us a school email account with the email of everyone else in the school I looked up the guys email and continued the conversation we’d been having before robotics ended. Responses were a bit stretched out because if our teachers caught us sending emails during class they’d take our computers until we completed an hour of community service.

We spoke during class and over email like this for about a month before I gained the guts to ask him out over an email. After he said yes everything seemed to start out okay. We worked out well together and figured out we had a lot of the same friends and enemies. We even got to know the friends the other had that we didn’t. Many of them seemed to like the person we were dating and thought we worked well together. Before I knew it the first month had already flown by and felt like it’d only been a week since we’d gotten together.

That’s about when I noticed something wasn’t right with him, like there was a personality split no one else seemed to notice. Once he knew I’d noticed some of the beatings had begun. All of the bruises wound up somewhere that I could hide them with a shirt, I didn’t have to make up any stories like “I fell down a set of stairs,” “I ran into a door,” “One of our puppies jumped on me and left a bruise,” or various other stories to cover up. I could even pretend I’d been dreaming and none of it never happened, that we really did love each other like I believed we did. One of my friends (she’d become particularly close) started warning me that he was no good six months in to my relationship with him. Her reasons were things like “you don’t talk when your around him,” “he causes you to neglect your friends,” “he hangs around with my ex and he might convince him to break up with you,” and things like that.

She also gave me hugs on a regular basis and had to feel me stiffen from the pain in my ribs every time we did. Somehow I think she knew that something was going on that I wasn’t telling her about, that he was crazier than she thought he was. It wasn’t until a few days before Christmas that year that we broke up. I was devastated, I thought that everything would somehow work itself out and the hitting would stop. I didn’t talk to any of my friends for the rest of the week and barely spoke after that for at least the month. It wasn’t until a month after that I heard from another friend of mine that they knew the personality split was there. I never told any of them about the regular beatings I’d been given, I never wanted them to know the horror I’d felt over the last eight months.

To this day, they still don’t know. I don’t think they ever will.


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