writhing, seething anger… that’s all i felt when i saw the fear, helplessness and hopelessness in her eyes. abuse… it brings out the worst in me. i wanted to see him go down. i wanted him to pay for treating her like that. for making her cower. for making her feel that it’s okay. i wanted to be the one to make him pay.
how could a young woman have to get approval to sit at a table by herself, so that she could have a bowl of soup? she actually hung her head in shame, as i questioned him whether or not she had to be “attached” to him at all times. until that point i hadn’t realized that he actually had her under his spell. it dawned on me that, when they left the building, he would make her pay for my questions. i had actually made things worse.
concerned. confused. frustrated. helpless. if that’s how i felt, i can’t imagine what feelings she had in the early days of the verbal abuse. this late in the game, she just figures that’s the way he is.
“he’ll walk down the block, cool off, and then come back… i don’t need your help. i’m okay.” those were her words to me.
all that could be done was to slip her a couple of business cards of where to call when she’s had enough of it… oh yeah, and pray. pray for her, that she would begin to see her own value as a human being.
he had the nerve to tell me that they were engaged. that it was a 50/50 relationship. i had the guts to tell him that he was wrong. that it was actually suppose to be 100/100. he didn’t believe me.
he even said he wasn’t an abuser. he didn’t hit her. i begged to differ, as i had witnessed an incident previously… no he didn’t hit her then, but he pulled her.
and what could be done? the police wouldn’t do anything… because she wouldn’t admit it.
so, i stood there, i listened, i watched, i questioned, and i did the only other thing i could do that would make a difference – i prayed. oh how i prayed. and still – i pray.