Amazing Johnny the Monster
I already had been reluctant to be intimate with him for months, but now I couldn’t bear the thought of being intimate with him. It didn’t matter. Every night he was taking Xanax and drinking. He told me that when he signed our marriage papers, it meant he could only have sex with me. He also told me over and over again that I was the last person he wanted to have sex with, but that he was stuck with me. He bullied me or pressured me to have sex with him. He threatened to leave if I didn’t do what he wanted. I would say no. I would push him away. I would curl my toes and kick so that it was harder for him to get my shoes off. I would curl into a fetal position so it was harder for him to pull my jeans off, hoping that he would give up this time. Usually he didn’t. I always ended up just doing what he wanted so that it would be over faster. It was very painful. I felt worthless. I would silently cry myself to sleep, sleeping on the very edge of the bed as far away from him as I could get. Night was the worst because that’s when he would always take Xanax. Sometimes he would wake me up to get what he wanted. I never knew. I was never safe. One night after he got what he wanted, he shoved me aside and said “That sucked. I want my quarter back.” I cried as I confided this particular comment (but not the circumstances) to his mother, who I had viewed as a third parent. I was too ashamed to tell my own mother. (Again I chose the wrong person to confide in.) This was not the person I married. This wasn’t even the person he was a year prior. This was some monster that lived in my house. I had stopped trying to save my marriage and was just focused on surviving.