So I’m going to expand on something I said in an earlier blog. I love to write. But my only problem is I don’t really finish what I start. I have so many starts of stories and then I just can’t think of anything else to continue the story. The thing that really sucks though is I get a good chunk of something written. It’s not like I only get a few sentences I get a good page or more written sometimes. So in all honesty I’m probably going to put some excerpts on my blog here and there to ask your guys’ opinion and see how you like them. I think I’ll probably put one at the end of this blog too. Just to see how you guys like it. None of my “stories” are ever the same and are rarely the same genre. As a kid I read all the time, I even got grounded from reading since I always had my nose buried in a book. But as you grow up and get busy you don’t have as much time but I’ve always loved to write hoping one day, maybe one day something I’ve written will get published. Writing has also always been my own little get away or therapy. It’s almost as if you’re mad and write it down all of a sudden you feel better and it’s gone. So I guess now I’ll add in a little something I’ve written and see what you guys think of it instead of babbling more on how I like to write.
“He’s always watching”
There’s usually more to a person than you see, more to life than what is known. But for me everything was just a straight shot for explanation. I’m 25 and wealthy, but I’m broken. There’s not much else to explain, I wasn’t always like this. I used to be a pretty free spirit, always happy. Now, I’m cynical, rude and grumpy I guess, at least that’s what I’ve been told. My family rides my ass telling me I need to talk to them and see them more, family time. My thoughts on a good day… I am able to sit at my house with no one nagging me how things should be washed or put away.
I guess I should start from the beginning. About a year and a half ago everything was great, even perfect. Everything was going how I had planned. I’m a control freak, well I was. Anyway, I had my job, my house and of course as always the perfect guy. Well, that’s what I thought at least. Yeah we had our problems but who doesn’t, except normal people don’t have the problems we did. That’s for later though. So every day I went to work, I’m a lawyer at the established law firm J.J and Son, at 8 am sharp. I started off as an assistant but I worked my ass off to move up the chain. I’d get off around 6-7 sometimes 8 on a late night. I didn’t mind though. I’d come home and be able to just relax, eat dinner and get ready for bed. My boyfriend had his own place, we didn’t want to move in together at the chance we didn’t work out, plus we weren’t married and I wasn’t about to listen to my family about that.
My ex-boyfriend and I met through a mutual friend. Now I’m just assuming they didn’t know about him because he didn’t tell me until about 6 months into our relationship and it was by accident. So let me let you in on the secret. He is an abnormal guy and not like weird fetish kind of abnormal like, and this may sound childish, powers. He was able to listen to every conversation you had regardless of whether or not he was there. As in if I’m at home and on the phone with my mom and he was nowhere near he could still listen in. So almost like being spied on all the time, non-trusting son of a bitch. That’s where our relationship ended. He didn’t realize that when he was listening to me it changed the presence in the room. At first I thought it was just me then I realized it was every time I was on the phone or talking to friends when he wasn’t around, a lot when I was around the guys too. Regardless of whether or not I invited him he always said no, then I could feel him listening. Once I figured it out we had a huge argument and from there it got pretty bad. We were always fighting and he started being pretty angry and abusive everyday once I told him I knew. The bastard didn’t even stop after I told him, he continued to do it.
It was a Friday night I decided I was going to go out with the girls, of course I asked permission at the time. He told me sure but remember because he’s always listening. I was still kind of scared to go out because my friends weren’t the most subtle with how they didn’t like him and knew what was going on even though I had to fake being happy. I always had to wear a dress that covered as much as I could get but they saw the marks I’d tell them a different story. Eventually I wrote down, since he could hear but couldn’t see, telling them what he could do and what was happening. They of course spoke out more on how they didn’t like him knowing he could hear everything they were saying, which I think gave him satisfaction because I’d come home and he’d talk about it and laugh like everything was okay. He didn’t know they knew though, which is how I wanted it.
I guess my friends were over his bullshit, because they called the police and they arrested him. They had to confirm the accusations my friends had made. They looked over my body for signs of abuse. After they moved on from my body they checked my house. There was a camera in my room; which I assume he set up, where most of the beatings and abuse happened so they took that went through all the footage. Unfortunately it had everything from us having sex, to me getting dressed undressed, to whenever he was over. I still wonder to this day why he put it there. Did he go back and watch it every night after everything he did? Did he like it? Did it give him satisfaction knowing I was too scared to do anything about it? The whole situation was just fucked.
After that night, I mean I was still stepping on eggshells for a while because I was so use to having him there and listening. But after a while it got easier and I got a lot more relaxed. I was able to do and say whatever, within reason. Knowing he couldn’t show up. I could still feel him listen every so often but not like before. He didn’t do it as much. Everything got a lot better, I was happier, everything was smoother. Until the day he got out…I could feel him listening to me almost the entire day. Towards the end of the day it stopped. My mom had decided to stay with me that night since he was out. Came home found two dinners on the table assuming my mom was cleaning up waiting for me to get home I sat down and waited for a bit. Then I see a note on the table,
Claire, I went home real quick to grab some clothes be back soon. Love, mom.
So I assume she made dinner knowing I’d be here before she got back. I went back to sit down at the table, started to eat then realized it was a Tuesday night and the meal prepared was the meal Clay and I had always made on Tuesday’s. The look on my face must have shown him I knew he was here because only a few seconds later he stepped out from the hallway with a smile on his face. I froze.
That’s the end of the excerpt. Thoughts and suggestions are more than welcome. Thanks guys:)