FanStory.com - Torturedby LovnPeace
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Love can be painful.
Life In The Big Shitty
: Tortured by LovnPeace
Artwork by Renate-Bertodi at FanArtReview.com

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

I am writing this book so it will be in chronological order. Some of the subjects I have touched on before over the years are scattered about in my huge portfolio. Some are found in other books on here.



The bank I worked for at the time, gave us an ultimatum during flu season. Get the series of shots or no pay if you get the flu. I had the full series of three shots. I had every kind of flu known to man that winter. I was off work constantly. I was very sick. My husband broke up with his fiance and came to see me. I was running a raging fever. He climbed in bed with me and held me, trying to break the fever. We talked a lot. I never returned to work. He always seemed to catch me when I was most vulnerable. We packed up our belongings and babies and moved to Arizona.



We had a reasonably peaceful couple of years there. I became pregnant with my third child. If I had been a princess, I would have been hospitalized. I always suffered harshly with morning sickness, but this time was the worst. They put me on suppositories as I couldn't even hold water down. When she was born, they kept her in the hospital for a few extra days. I learned years later; she was slightly jaundiced. I have blood type A-negative. I also knew very little about it. Only that I had to have titers with pregnancy. My new daughter I found out, should have had a complete blood transfusion at birth. We had no hospital insurance and were poor. She would have had to be transferred to a distant hospital for the procedure. They decided against it. I now believe it accounted for my violent morning sickness and doomed her not only to health issues, but to an early death. This mixed blood type issue doesn't affect all pregnancies.



Of course, he strutted like a peacock, thinking he was the only one who could get me pregnant. I never told him; I believe I had a miscarriage when we were separated. He wormed it out of me, about me sleeping with other men. It didn't matter that he slept with other women. I would later pay a high price for that information. I never told him about my original betrayal. Even though I never meant for it to happen, I believe he would have killed me.



I became pregnant again shortly after our daughter was born. He wasn't happy about that. I cramped and spotted this time with a milder morning sickness. Our doctor didn't think I would carry this baby to term but told me to take it easy. I did take it easy and carried him to term. My last baby, a son was born a year and two weeks after his sister.



My husband worked for a small business which required delivery. He and his partner sometimes would take off and go to the local Casino. I don't know if it had an effect of his boss having a heart attack or not, but his boss died. He lost his job when the new owners took over. My husband wanted to go to California where his mother had moved to. I wanted to go back home. I thought I needed my mom. Another poor choice. I can only speculate now, that it made him resent me somehow. I was eight months pregnant with a baby less than a year-old climbing on my big belly for hundreds of miles. With two other children, well under four in the back seat. Birth control was in its infancy back then.



The few years back in the mid-west were difficult at times, with very little stability. Hubby started work in a major greeting card company. We finally moved to the country which produced a long commute for him. One day his old Jewish princess Girlfriend rode up on horse-back with her entourage. I don't remember if it was before or after that that his serious abuse began. I do remember sitting in the back yard later and him telling me he still loved her. I had gone to high school with her.



I forgot to mention something that happened before I was married. I shared with a visiting aunt that I was having sex. She told mom. My mother shut me in the bedroom with my sister guarding me, after she beat my back with a stainless-steel pancake turner. You could see the design from the blood under the skin. She told me she would kick me out naked if she could but told me I could only have the clothes on my back. I was ordered to take the bus to my grandma's. I went to my boyfriend's house instead. I went to school from there. The Jewish princess saw my back in the PE Showers. She tried to befriend me. Years later, she asked a mutual friend if I was still with him. She called him the monster.

Anyway, before or after didn't matter. It became a living hell.



At night, after a few beers and the kids were in bed he would back me against the wall with a finger in my face an say over and over, "Peter is good," This would go on for hours, over and over for many months. In time my body began to react. First my stomach tightened up, then my throat, and I would scream. He slapped me out of it and went on with the torture. I don't remember how many months, or years this went on. Mom's doctor said I developed a kind of epilepsy, when she told him about it. This is why I consider myself a miracle. The fact I have any mental capacity today is a miracle to me.



You might be able to tell by now, I had very little contact or communication with other people during these years. He didn't want me working outside the home. This along with no real education would become a problem in my life.

I am adding the poem from my book, Slaying The Dragon/Lion as a Look into my feelings.

*** Yes, I Feel the Pain ***

I don't think I suppress my pain
I look through clear looking glass
not hiding in a field of dreams

What a delicate balance
to walk before reality
self-pity keeping at bay

To cram will cause sickness
of spirit, cause decay
Lord, help me on this walk

I try to deal, not deny
we live in such a painful world
not close to paradise

I cannot dwell in Satan's Hell
while keeping a healthy path
a choice I make in my life

To feel the woes
but not to dig a pit
no longer phase me out, but

To blossom in my spirit
be a proud light of God
but more, a peace in me


Continued-


Author Notes
Thank you, Renate-Bertodi for your great art.

     

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