Silent Fright: A Memoir

By Christie Powers

A true story of quiet courage, fear, shame, and ultimate hope.

Christie was a shy, vibrant, happy young girl when she met Chad. He was handsome, popular, and athletic, but her childhood sweetheart turned out to be a monster behind closed doors once they married. She told no one of her circumstances and suffered silently for ten toxic years.

Christie's husband worked tirelessly to dim her bright internal light, and the daily assaults on her self-esteem ultimately led to a revengeful affair. His horrible temper and vicious words hurt even more than being pushed down the stairs or having the air choked out of her. The blistering shame she felt kept her off balance, unable to trust anyone, and altered her life's path forever.

Silent Fright is a story of abuse, and also a story of leaving, and finding the strength to carry on. No longer ashamed or frightened by what she went through, Christie reveals in this memoir her most secret and buried memories in hopes that she might help others who are suffering abuse and needing hope in their lives. We are all perfect in our imperfections, and we all have a story that haunts us. Here's hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christie Powers
• Release date: Jan 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781777041410

Christie Powers

Christie Powers isn't a famous author or a superstar. She's just a determined woman who’s lost her way in life many times and decided in May 2010 to listen to her heart and write about her most buried secrets. It's taken these next ten years to find the fresh courage required to share her story with you.Personal Growth and developing the best version of herself is her number one goal. She's also been obsessed with self-help books since she was 24 when one such book, quite literally, saved her life.A few years ago she made another conscious decision... to stop shrinking into places she'd outgrown. That cost her some friends, a cheating husband, and a few colleagues. But with her renewed sense of "self-worth" it seems she's come full circle and is now obsessed with her new mission:To help guide You in your quest to truly loving yourself, forgiving yourself and to just...Be Your "Best" Self.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1:

red flags

IT WAS FREEZING COLD; A BITTER wind pinched my cheeks and made it hard to breathe as I listened to the snow crunching under my worn boots. It wasn’t a good day to walk partway home on the icy streets. It was thirty degrees below zero, and I couldn’t help but think that I really needed to get myself a decent pair of winter boots. My toes were numb, they were so cold.

You’d think at age twenty-four with a decent job I could just go do that, but then there would be all the complications of hiding the receipt and explaining to Chad that I really needed them, and that I wasn’t just trying to impress someone.

It would have to wait: frozen feet would be the least of my problems if I was much longer getting home. I just needed to concentrate on getting to the house before he did, I thought to myself, so there weren’t five thousand questions and more accusations. It would be dark soon; in the dead of winter in Winnipeg the sun went down before five p.m.

Rounding the bend in the road, I spotted his car parked outside the house. My heart began to race. Darn, he’d beaten me home. It wasn’t a good sign. I picked up my pace and braced myself for the inevitable.

A few minutes later I trudged through the snowy pile that lined the end of the driveway. The plow had obviously been by. The driveway wasn’t shoveled (of course not)—it would be left for me. My blue Pontiac, covered with a fresh layer of gleaming white snow, was also in the driveway because it hadn’t started that morning. Surely that was my fault, too: the block heater, to help the car start in extremely cold weather, hadn’t been plugged in the night before.

Thankfully, a girlfriend had been able to pick me up and get me to work, so I hadn’t had to mess with his schedule. She’d even offered to get me home from work, but being late for an appointment, she dropped me off at the entrance of the subdivision.

It meant a quarter-mile walk to the house in the frigid cold, but that was still better than the alternative. Hurrying up the front steps to the house, I glanced back to double-check the connection on the block heater, and that’s when I saw the markings in the snow on the driver’s side window of my car. I stepped carefully back down the stairs to read the message.

I LOVE YOU, it said, with a little heart etched next to it. That sweet gesture after four years of marriage should have made me smile and feel warm, but instead adrenaline surged through me with a jolt, leaving my stomach a bit queasy.

Great, I thought, feeling dread and fear building too quickly. I took my forearm and swiped the words off my car window without thinking. Geez, that was probably a bad move. Anxiety had a solid grip on me, as I stood motionless. Trying to shake it off, I turned back to the house, careful not to slip on the icy steps. As I pushed through the front door I realized with relief that he wasn’t home: the house was quiet, almost too quiet. I took a deep breath in and tried to calm down a bit, hating the feeling, always afraid of what he’d do next.

It was strange, though, that his car was parked out front. Hey, I’m home! I called out, just to be sure, but there was no answer. Shrugging out of my warm winter coat I hung it on the banister, then kicked off my wet, tattered boots, not caring about the snow I tromped thoughtlessly on the floor. Where was my dog, Sam? My thoughts scattered.

He should have come running when I opened the door. A fresh wave of anxiety kicked me in the gut. Please tell me Chad didn’t leave the poor dog outside again! I flew through the living room to the slider doors in the dining area and yanked the curtains back so I could see the back yard.

My heart sank when I saw him, my poor shivering dog sitting on the deck with a forlorn look in his eyes, whimpering. Oh Sammy, you poor thing, I crooned aloud. He jumped up quickly at the sound of my voice and barked. He swung himself around and leapt up as I came out on the deck to free him and bring him inside. His rope was stuck in the packed, icy snow and I felt instantly angry as I yanked on it. Gosh, how long had he been out there in that weather? Sam had a good heavy coat on him, but it was just too cold to leave any animal outside for any length of time without proper shelter. I suspected Chad had done it on purpose because he knew how much it upset me.

Once we were in the house, I crouched down on the living room carpet. Sam danced around, offering me huge licks, as I carefully ran my hands all over him, checking the pads of his feet. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to make sure he was OK.

Balls of snow had hardened and were caught on the hair between his toes, so I crushed them in my fingers and pulled them off. I didn’t care about the wet mess I was making on the carpet. Sam was oblivious, just so happy I was home that the rest didn’t seem to matter. He rolled over to expose his cold, soft belly and I continued to rub and love on him. I spoke gently, and told him how very sorry I was he’d been left outside.

Sam was four years old and was a lovely mix of Lab and shepherd. He was mild-tempered and loved everyone, but he was always a bit uneasy when Chad was home. I loved how he was always thrilled to see me; he warmed my heart and always brought a smile to my face. Dogs have such a way with their unconditional love; it didn’t matter to him that I was ugly and stupid, he loved me anyway. I snuggled with him for another ten minutes or so, and then gave him a treat. He seemed fine, so I relaxed and got up from the floor. Sam followed, as always.

I headed for the kitchen, thinking there might be a note explaining where Chad was, chuckling at myself seconds later for even considering the thought. I had no idea where he might be, and there was no telling what he was up to.

I decided to call Gracie. She’d been my very best friend since fifth grade, and one of the few people I trusted to have my back. She was a beautiful young woman with caramel brown hair and big green eyes. We’d been inseparable in school, and spent hours doing cartwheels on her parents front lawn as kids. Her marriage was one I envied, and I found myself comparing my relationship to her and Phil’s quite often. They hadn’t had kids yet, and they both had great jobs and lived in a lovely home. But it was the way you could tell they loved and respected each other that made me feel envious.

Gracie had never really approved of Chad and had told me as much on several occasions early on, but our husbands hung out together quite a bit and had become very close. So it wouldn’t have surprised me if Phil had come by to pick Chad up and they’d gone out somewhere for the evening.

Gracie would know where they were, so I grabbed the phone and punched in the familiar numbers. After two rings I heard her voice. Hello?

Hey, it’s me. Are the boys out somewhere together tonight?

She hesitated, just for a split second. Uh, yeah, Christie, they left town around noon, the big game is tonight. He didn’t tell you? she sounded a little irritated.

I felt suddenly sick inside. Not because I cared if he went—in fact it was a relief not dealing with him—but that sick feeling was happening more and more frequently.

I was pretty sure it was linked to the realization that this was not how a marriage should be. As the years passed and I watched my friends and their husbands, and thought back to how my parents had treated each other, I knew something was fundamentally wrong. Our relationship lacked respect, among other things, and instead of feeling safe in my home, I was almost always afraid of what might happen next.

My response, as usual, was nonchalant. I played it off, pretending I’d forgotten. Oh, that’s right, I must be losing my mind. I had a tough day at work, and forgot, no big deal! We talked for a few more minutes, and she changed the subject to another one of our girlfriends who’d recently gotten a big promotion and was moving away. Gracie wanted to have a party for her, and wanted my opinion on where to hold it.

I was sure to giggle through the conversation, playing off the hurt and embarrassment I actually felt about Chad, but I was having trouble concentrating on our conversation. I practiced my facade so frequently that my contrived responses had somehow become a part of me. Well, I finally said, I should get off the phone. I’m starving and need to get out of these work clothes. Gracie started to say goodbye and then asked me to rush Phil along when he dropped Chad off in the morning, reminding me that they’d promised to be at a birthday party on Saturday afternoon.

Again my heart sank with the realization that Chad was pulling another all-nighter without so much as a call. I should have been used to it, but for some reason it was affecting me more and more. It made me feel so unimportant, rejected and very sad. OK, I responded, keeping my tone even and light so as not to tip her off, you got it. As I hung up the phone, I decided I’d make the best of it. To make a valiant effort not to allow his actions to control my feelings. I’d have what I wanted for dinner, read my book and relax . . . screw him. I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing!

I felt sluggish as I headed down the hall, and hot tears ran down my cheeks regardless of my tough act. I rubbed them away, angry with myself for letting him hurt me, even in his absence. Be strong, I thought to myself, don’t let it get to you, it’s what he wants. He likes it when you’re upset; it puts him in control.

These bouts of tears had become very frequent in the past year, and as I tried to calm myself, I could feel the familiar stone walls come up around me, the protective gate around my heart slam shut. I’d stopped letting anyone see me vulnerable or hurt years ago. I figured it would keep me safe. Chad had control over me, and though he’d never said so directly, the fact of it was always there, like a hot poker in my gut. I had no idea how he’d managed to get such a hold on me, but somehow it had to change.

I slipped out of my clothes and tossed them in the hamper, determined to have a good evening. Sam sat silently in the room, watching me with his big, beautiful, expressive brown eyes. He tipped his head from side to side as he listened to me tell him how lovely he was, and how much I loved him. I stepped into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. Leaning against the cool white porcelain, I took several deep calming breaths to steady myself.

I stared in the mirror at my reflection. He was right, I was just plain ugly. My long blonde hair was dull and lifeless, and my skin was blotchy. My nose was too long, and my smile didn’t reach my blue eyes anymore. I turned my head, looking away quickly. Spending too much time in front of the mirror meant I could hear his critical voice far too clearly.

Chad always took the time to point out everything that was wrong with me. Ugly, stupid, and fat were his favorites, but the list was really long. Some of the words he spoke, the names he called me, I couldn’t even replay in my mind in that moment. They were just too cruel.

I shook my head, hoping to shake the thoughts out as well. There had once been a day when I’d liked to primp in the mirror—when had that stopped? I wondered.

OK . . . dinner! Try to concentrate on something else, I told myself, as I returned to the bedroom. Spaghetti, it always cheered me up, comfort food at its best. I redressed in my favorite comfy pink sweatpants and a huge baggy gray sweatshirt that hid my fat.

At least, I thought I was fat. The scale always read somewhere between 105 and 110 pounds, but I found that hard to believe; it probably wasn’t working properly.

Heading back to the kitchen, I spoke to Sam, asking if he was hungry too. Then I grabbed a small pot from under the counter to boil some water for the noodles. Sam sat patiently, but his eyes bore into mine. I giggled and rubbed the soft patch between his ears. "I know, Sammy . . . you’re hungry too, aren’t you?" I dipped the plastic measuring cup into the bin where I stored his dry food, and loaded his silver bowl to the brim. He pushed by me and began to gobble it up contentedly.

My tummy growled as I reached into the fridge for the leftover meat sauce I’d made a couple of days earlier, and that’s when the kitchen went suddenly and completely dark. Standing still, I closed the fridge door and looked around. That’s when I realized all the power in the house was off. Great, just what I needed!

Don’t panic, it’ll come back on in a few minutes, I told myself. I’ll just relax for a second and wait until it does. I sat at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of water. Sam finished licking his bowl and lay down at my feet, happy and warm.

I watched as twenty minutes ticked past on the clock, wondering what had happened, feeling my heart rate jump again. Jeez, when had I become such a bundle of nerves? I got up and fumbled through one of the kitchen drawers. I managed to find a small candle, and an old blue Bic lighter.

The dim light flickered, and made me feel better instantly. Another five minutes passed as I sat impatiently. Eventually I decided I’d waited long enough, it was time to call the hydro company and find out if they knew anything.

Flipping through a tattered local phone book, I found the number and dialed. A male voice answered immediately and asked how he could help. I stuttered a bit, not expecting someone to come on the line so quickly, because surely everyone was calling in. I gave my name and address and told him that there was a power outage in the area.

He asked me to hold and came back on the line to inform me that there had been no other reports of the outage. After a few questions he agreed to send someone out to check, but only because of the rural area we lived in and the outside temperature. I was to expect them within the next hour.

I sat again, trying to wait patiently, but couldn’t help noticing that the house was already getting cool. It sure would be nice not to be alone, I thought, but I was used to it; I would be fine, as always.

Feeling anxious, I peeked out the front door. I had the creeps and was getting very tense. It got dark out so quickly this time of year, and February was always so cold. A rush of wind had me pushing the door closed again quickly, and I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. A few minutes later I heard a big truck rumbling up the driveway. I pulled the door back open, feeling relieved, and sure enough, help had arrived! Sam jumped up from his spot on the couch, barking, and lunged toward the door.

Two men in heavy snowsuits and bright orange vests stepped down off the huge truck and tromped up the snowy driveway. One of them began to explain, as he came up the front steps, that there wasn’t a power outage. He pointed around at my five neighbors who were scattered through the new subdivision: all of their lights were on.

My mind fluttered away for a brief second. The other homes looked warm and inviting to me, unlike my own. I imagined happy couples having dinner together and then cuddling on the couch to watch TV. Still distracted, I explained where the power panel was in the basement, and both men headed downstairs to check it out. Sam sniffed the air behind them, but didn’t follow.

This type of house call probably wasn’t in their job description, so it was possible that the guy on the phone had just felt sorry for me. I didn’t care to analyze it, I was just grateful they were being kind. Relief flooded through me seconds later as the lights came back on and the stove element burned brightly again. The two men marched back up the basement stairs. Found the problem, the bigger of the two remarked. The main power breaker was flipped off. It had tripped itself somehow. Odd, but they said I was all set. They did suggest, as they headed back outside, that we get our wiring checked out as soon as possible, as it could be a fire hazard. I thanked them and saw them out.

I turned and leaned back against the door after I flipped the deadbolt. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, I felt a little silly. I could have done that myself.

Shrugging it off, I gave Sam a pat on the head and walked back into the kitchen to blow out the candle. In that same moment the whole place went black again! Shit, I swore under my breath. Now what? My mind was racing as I ran back to the front door, hoping to wave the truck down. But no luck, they’d turned the corner and were out of sight. For a brief second I felt a shiver of fear run up my spine. Someone had to be in the house, and I was the dummy in the movie thinking about going down to the basement to see what was going on.

OK, I said aloud to myself, be a big girl, you’ve been watching too much TV. After relighting the candle in the kitchen, I went straight to the phone and called the hydro company again, explaining what happened. I caught myself whining a bit about the fact that it was starting to get cold in the house, and I told him he needed to send those guys back. Unfortunately, they’d been sent on another call, but the representative also explained that according their check-in, the problem was mine. It wasn’t a local power issue, so I was on my own.

Again, as I hung up, I felt that nagging feeling. I was so frequently left alone to handle stuff like this. I was actually scared, and not sure what to do next. If I couldn’t get it figured out soon, Sam and I would definitely have to leave the house for the night. It was just too cold to go without heat that long.

I knew I could flip a breaker, it was the trip down to the basement that was making me edgy. I didn’t know what else to do, so, Sam, I called, come on, boy, come with Mom. Sam obediently came to my side and watched as I fumbled for some more candles in the kitchen drawer. I lit a couple more, taking the biggest one with me as I hesitantly headed down the stairs. Sam cocked his head and whimpered, as if to ask what I was doing, but followed me anyway with little coaxing.

The house was a bungalow, so the basement went the whole length of the house. Unfortunately for me, the breaker panel was against the far wall, so I took a deep breath as I stepped carefully through the shadows dancing on the floor. It was dark and spooky. The candlelight flickered as I walked, making more creepy shadows move up the walls and onto the ceiling. I slid my left hand up in front of the flame. I hadn’t considered what I would do if it went out on me. I hadn’t thought to bring the lighter. Chad was right, I was so stupid!

Walking slowly to keep the flame steady seemed to be working. Sam hung back a bit, sensing my apprehension, but stayed with me. Finally I found the panel, pulled open the door, and sure enough, the biggest breaker was flipped in the opposite direction of all the others. I reached up and pulled it back into place. There wasn’t any light, but I heard the low hum of the sump pump come on in the far corner and knew immediately the power was back on. I turned quickly to head back up and could see a faint glow from the lights upstairs—perfect, done!

As I blew out the candle, we both flew the rest of the way up the stairs. Sam celebrated with me by licking my hands as I reached down to rub his neck and thank him for being a brave boy. Happily starting back on my dinner preparations, I realized that I was getting really hungry. I didn’t stop to consider in any detail why the breaker was flipping off on its own; I’d deal with that later. I was feeling much better, and somewhat proud of myself. I sat at the kitchen table and ate my supper, quietly enjoying each delicious bite.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was already past seven thirty. I briefly wondered what Chad was doing. Probably already drunk and annoying the crowd around him at the game by now. I was glad I wasn’t there to witness the too-common behavior. It was embarrassing, and always ended badly.

As I cleared my dishes and rinsed them off under the tap, the house went dark . . . again! No, please, I thought, as I dropped my head in disbelief. I took pride in the fact that I was self-sufficient, mostly brave, and wasn’t afraid to live out in the boonies considering how often I was alone, but I was officially in panic mode. Crazy, scrambled thoughts jumped though my mind. Could there be someone in the house? No, Sam would know, he would alert me. Had Chad gone to new lengths to unnerve me? No, that was silly. I mean yes, he’d hide and