July 22nd, 2009 was the most awful day of my life. My boyfriend at the time, Nate, picked me up from my house around five thirty p.m. Our original plan was to head to the carnival and have a delightful time, but delight had nothing to do with what truly transpired. When Nate picked me up he told me that he couldn’t attend the carnival while it was light due to the medication he was on, and for some outlandish reason, I believed him.

Next thing I remember, we were at his house, in his bedroom; just us…alone. Things started to get heated and we began to fool around. Soon after, Nate suggested anal sex. Immediately after those words came flowing out of his mouth, everything stopped and the only thing that seemed to be buzzing through my mind was absolutely not! I wouldn’t allow it, and I kept telling him no, but he continued trying. I struggled to keep my legs closed, but he kept forcing them open. Suddenly, it was as if a bomb had dropped. Nate became exceedingly livid, yelling all sorts of vulgar words at me; words so terrible, I can’t even bring myself to write them. I was lying on the bed crying my heart out; Nate started hitting me in the face with his fist. It felt equivalent to being beaten with a brick. When I tried to wiggle away to get off the bed he turned me around and bit me on the forehead.

Finally, I got off the bed trying to run away, but I could barely see. Everything was hazy and my face was covered in blood. Nate shoved me into the wall. I was shrieking and crying, and he began to shout at me louder and louder. My heart plummeted. He was clutching a metal bat over his shoulder as if he was going to swing at me. Fortunately, he didn’t. He just screamed at me, “What are you so afraid of; I am not going to hit you with a bat.” I attempted to escape the room, but he yanked me back by my hair, lugged me into the bathroom, and forced me to enter the shower. Nate bellowed at me, “Get in the shower and wipe that blood off of your face, I don’t want my fingerprints on you.” I muttered back, “I just want to go home, I won’t tell anyone, please just let me go.” He watched me get dressed and hauled me back into his room as he was screaming at me, “Where is your phone?” I honestly didn’t have a clue where it was. Even if I did, there was no way I would be able to locate it, I could barely see. Eventually he found it and refused to give it back. I could not cease my crying; he continued striking me telling me to shut up.

Pulling me by my hair to the car he told me, “Get in the car, your dead now, I am taking you to my killer’s house to be murdered.” If I was able to see where he had taken me, I would tell you, but I don’t have the slightest idea. I just knew that we drove pass a house and no one was home. He smacked me in the face and said, “Oh, you’re lucky because my killer is not home.” I made an effort to exit the car. I opened the door while the car was in motion and I yelped for help. I attempted to jump out, but Nate snatched me and jerked me back towards the car and knocked me in the face. Following this, he kept driving me around.

Once I started to get my vision back a little I looked in the rear view mirror and spotted a police officer driving behind us. Nate said, “If you flag down that cop, I will kill you and I will make it the most excruciating pain you have ever felt.” It took all of the little strength that I had left to jump out of the car while it was moving. After I leaped and rolled out of the car, I started screaming and crying. Then the police car pulled up behind Nate’s car, the cop exited the vehicle and said, “What’s wrong?” and Nate replied, “We just got into a little fight” as if nothing had happened. Then the police officer wanted to speak to me alone. I told the officer that I wanted to go home, and he kept asking me what happened. I revealed to him what had occurred.

After hearing this, the police officer put Nate in the back of the patrol car. Nate was glaring at me the entire time and he once made a jester with a finger across his throat implying that he was going to slit my throat. Finally, my mom and step dad arrived. They conversed with the police and eventually I was allowed to go home.

I thank God everyday for letting me subsist through this horrifying event. It still bothers me to this day. It’s always on mind, and I am always worried that I will run into him somewhere. Every night before I go to bed, I make sure our house is locked and that my curtains are closed. This was and is the biggest challenge of my life. I honestly don’t think I will ever recover from this, and I pray to God that no one has to go through what I went through.