From Abuse to Freedom

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
It is a story of a woman abused by her husband,and the freedom
she sought.But not in the way it happened.

Submitted: July 23, 2011

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Submitted: July 23, 2011

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Mary looked up at the clock hanging on the living-room wall above the fireplace, four thirty it read.  Nerves began to build up in her mind and body, her husband Bill was about due to come home, what mood would he be in? She wondered.  She looked at herself in the mirror, and all she could see was dark circles under the eyes from lack of sleep, and her eyes red from crying , that's all she seemed to do.  She had married Bill in nineteen sixty two, just before her seventeenth birthday, and had five of a family all grown up.  Mary couldn't fault her husband in the fact he was a good father to their children, neither could she blame him off being an alcoholic,because the only time he drank would be a Friday or Saturday.  No she couldn't fault him in these things,it was his moods that frightened her, she dreaded the time he came home from work.  She didn't know what mood he would be in.

Bill could be very nice one minute, then the next he was like a completely different person, a Jekyll and Hyde.  It wasn't just the physical abuse, that was bad enough, but the mental abuse was worse.  Being told that you were useless, an idiot, ugly and being put down in front of other people, it went on.  Mary began to feel that all these things he said were true.  She often wondered why she had stayed with him al these years, but as she often said to herself, it was because she loved him, and was always hoping that things would get better.  Yes, there was times when it was good, but these times were very few and far between, she seemed to cry more than anything nowadays.

It wasn't only the fact that he was making her feel ugly or an idiot or useless etc, he would also accuse her of going with other men, which was untrue, all she thought and cared about was her family.  How could he say these things.  Sometimes she wished that she was the type off woman who if getting accused of something you didn't do ended up having an affair,but she wasn't.

Mary looked at the clock again, as always she had his tea ready for him.  Not many young ones would do that now, she thought.  Jusr at that moment  the back door opened, and in he walked.  She put his meal of stewing steak casserole, potatoes and vegetables on the table, she eld her breath.  Mary knew that she was a decent enough cook, and she would often bake cakes, scones, biscuits and various other things to the delight of the family, but if her husband went in to one of his moods then nothing pleased him, and she received the brunt of his anger.  Tonight he was in one of his moods, and he went on and on about his tea being rubbish, and that he wouldn't even serve it to pigs.  Which in a sense was funny because her youngest son John and herself had enjoyed their tea.

Mary couldn't stand it any longer, she put on her coat called on their dog, put his lead on and walked out the door.  She didn't know where she walked to or how far she walked because tears were blinding her vision, when would all this stop, she wondered?  When would she be free from all this?  Mary turned and went back home.  

The week passed by, then on the Sunday afternoon while her husband was out, she received a phonecall from a woman she didn't know, this woman was telling her that she had been having an affair with her husband Bill, Mary couldn't believe what she was hearing.  Without saying a word, she put the receiver back down on to it's cradle.  How dare he accuse her of going with other men when it was untrue.  She waited on him coming home and confronted him about his affair, he didn't deny it, and admitted that it had been going on for months, but had told her that day it was over, and that was the reason she had phoned.  Mary felt so hurt, that she threw his clothes in a black bin bag, threw it at her husband and told himto get out.  He said he was sorry and walked out the door.

The days and weeks passed, and try as she might she couldn't forget him, twenty eight years of marriage, and although hell for most off the time, it wasn't something you could switch off like a light.  As time passed they began to talk, Bill became a different person, he became a more loving and caring man, whether that was because he was still staying in their old caravan and they were still only having conversations over the phone, with the occasional meeting up Mary didn't know.

The winter months came upon them and Mary decided to forgive him, maybe she was foolish she didn't know but he would have to prove to her that he had changed.  Bill came back to the home, and everything was lovely for weeks, in fact from November to the end off February ther was no mental or physical abuse, they were able to talk to each other without any arguments.  Mary began to feel happy for the first time in such a very long time.  But would it go on?  Her answer came soon enough, it didn't last, but little did she know what was about to happen.

It was the beginning of March, their two year old granddaughter Chloe whom they were bringing up, was unwell with a bad cold, she was sitting behind Mary on one of the armchairs and Bill was sitting on the opposite chair reading a newspaper.  Mary turned round to see if Chloe was alright but when she turned back again her husband had collapsed, she thought at first that he had only fainted but when she went across to him she knew that it was more than that.  Her husband, Bill had died.  The doctor came and confirmed that her husband had died of a massive heart attack and nothing would have saved him.  She couldn't take it in, she had prayed for peace and freedom from the abuse that she had suffered over the years, but not this.  She hadn't wanted it this way, she knew she ould have to stay strong for Chloe and John who was fifteen, it was at night the tears fell and this time the tears weren't  because her husband had mentally or physically abused her, but because her husband had died.

She was glad that she had forgiven him, because she felt that she would never have been able to forgive herself if she hadn't.  Yes, she had freedom now from the mental and physical abuse, but she knew that these harsh and horrible things that he had said would come up in to her thoughts now and again,but she wouldn't dwell on them.  She had to get on with her life.  She would remember him as a loving father to their children and a loving grandfather.

 

 


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