New Mexico

In no way do I want this to be the complete story of what happened to me over those 4 tumultuous years, but I feel that glimpses into my experience will be vital.

So here it goes…

I first met my abuser at the age of 13 during my freshman year of high school. We were just friends during that time, and I looked at him like a "big brother." Years passed, and we grew apart, but we still remained in contact. One night and a couple of drinks in 2013 changed everything. By June 2014, I was packing my bags and moving to Albuquerque, New Mexico (where he had moved to attend school) to live with him. Los Angeles didn’t feel like the best environment for me at the time, and in some ways, I was looking for an escape, so off I went for a fresh start.

Within 2 weeks of moving in with him, the physical abuse had already started; this came as a complete surprise to me (reflecting on what transpired over those years made me realize the abuse started long before moving in with him). This was definitely not the person I had known for 7 years…or so I thought. Nothing could have prepared me for what was coming my way; what started out as shoving and choking escalated quickly into much more.

By April 2015, I was stressed, depressed, and suicidal. The abuse was nonstop, and the physical abuse had gone from bi-weekly to every week. I was 95 pounds at 5’5 against a 5’10 man, weighing 240 pounds, and on steroids (mind you). Defending myself became not only exhausting but also close to impossible.

My life turned into a house of horrors, a waking nightmare.

One night, everything came to a head. Nobody will ever know exactly what happened to me that night except for my abuser and I. Some parts of it don’t even feel real to me anymore, and other parts have been buried so deep I only remember when the memory is triggered. All I know is that being afraid that someone is going to take your life and watching it collectively flash before your eyes is something I do not wish upon anyone. How I survived that night, how I didn’t come out of it with insane injuries, and was able to get up to go to work the next morning was all thanks to God.  

The next day at work was a blur, my job had an idea of what was going on for a while, but this day my boss told me to call my mom to let her know what was going on or she was calling the police. So I called my mom, said my goodbyes, and less than 24 hours later, I was on a plane home to Los Angeles.