The butterfly effect?

In my previous post I talked about the young me and how her wedding day was the start of the end of her nightmare.  Most people find this strange, as by marrying him she tied herself to him even more.  It wasn't the act of marrying him that changed things but the reception.  All of her friends were there, including all her old friends she no longer saw much of.  In fact most of the people she loved were in that room together, family and friends.  It was like a light-bulb moment.  When she looked around that room she saw so many people that were all there for her.  His family were there, but he had few friends.  By far the majority of the people in the room were there because of her, so many people that loved her, and missed her.  It was quite a party too, she had a great time.  What she also realised at the end of the night was that while she had been having fun, none of the day had been spent with the man she'd just married.  She'd spent it with her friends and family.  People who had travelled from Ireland, Wales and from across England to spend the day with her.  They must think something of her to go to that trouble right?  She must be worth something to them?

She danced, she chatted, she laughed and she had endless hugs and kisses and demands not to be so distant in the future, in short she felt so loved at the end of the night that something inside her changed.  What she had was a little glimpse of what life could be like.  Add to this the fact that her Dad was finally around for the first time in her life, properly available to her and seeing her regularly.  The final piece in the jigsaw was one of her close friends from her younger days moving back to Coventry a few months later, and so also being available to her.  More than available in fact, but actively wanting to spend time with her.

Day to day life resumed again after the wedding and a few days away.  But she was never quite the same again.  Slowly, one small step at a time she took back her life, very subtly at first and without really realising what she was doing.  Its only looking back now that she can she what happened.  That small change that had happened meant she questioned more, only small things at first, but as her confidence grew she questioned more!  This was a slow process and very little changed for a long time, but almost like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, she began to break out.  

As he started to realise what was happening he held on to her tighter than ever.  Pulled in the reins and tried to up the level of control.  Objected more to everything she did, caused more rows every time she said she was doing something.  So many times when he started a row she just wouldn't do whatever it was he objected to, for a quiet life.  Now she was doing it anyway, so the fights got bigger, he got rougher, there was more abuse.  The final realisation came one day when he had started another row and she had stood up to him, he got so angry before she knew what was happening she found herself pinned up against the wall by her throat and he raised his fist.  In that moment she knew at last that she was wrong when she said he would never hit her, she now not only knew he would, but she knew that if she did nothing it would only get worse.

She fought back, he was so shocked he stopped for a few seconds, and in that few seconds she ran, out of the door and down the street, no coat, no bag, just ran........... and hid.  Hid in the church yard for a couple of hours, it seemed fitting, some sort of sanctuary.  It was quiet and she could think.  As I remember it rained, but she hardly noticed, she felt nothing, a strange sort of numbness had washed over her.  She sat and thought, long and hard.  Thought about her life, thought about her options, thought about what would happen if she did nothing, thought about what might happen if she did something, and what something it was that she should do.

She knew she would have to go home eventually, but also knew he would have calmed down by then.  You hear about men that always say sorry and beg for forgiveness just to do it again and again.  He was never sorry, it was just never referred to, never spoken about, as if it had never happened, so there was nothing to be sorry about. This day was no different in that way, but it had changed things forever.  Their relationship was all but over that day, the rest was just the details, the tidying up.  She pointed out to him at some point that if he ever laid another hand on her she would tell his brother, this seemed like the ultimate threat, well that and stabbing him in his sleep.  But she had already decided he wasn't worth doing time for.   

One day she remembers vividly they were arguing about her hobby, and why she spent so much time doing it.  She told him that the people she was with valued her contribution and wanted her around, and the people she was helping needed her, three things she wasn't in that house, wanted, needed or valued.  And she walked away calmly for the first time.