Love Gone Wrong

By Sonja James Wright

Love Gone Wrong is first of all a work of fiction. Secondly, this is a rendering told from many points of view of what can happen when love is no longer the beautiful thing it started out to be. Having said that, events are described realistically and are easily identified as those witnessed daily in our lives and in the world around us. I believe readers will recognize familiar scenarios all too often devastatingly devoid of love.

The wording in the title suggests a beginning and an end. The storyline progresses descriptively from a very sweet and loving relationship between Cheryl and Mike to one that dissolved into abuse and deceit effectively destroying the relationship. Not only is the deteriorating relationship between Cheryl and Mike recounted in sometimes disturbing detail, there are children, parents, friends and associates who are also drawn in and who also suffer to varying degrees.

The noel is not limited to, or always focused on, the relationship between Cheryl and Mike. The familial desire to protect our loved ones, our personal need for respect in our relationships and how badly hurt people hurt people badly is portrayed in Love Gone Wrong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667863313

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cheryl

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning and my husband has finally decided to come home.  Do you have any idea what time it is? I ask him angrily.

Yeah, I know, he replies.  "Don’t start with me.  Tonight is not the night for any of your BS." 

Oh, you waltz in here at three o’clock in the morning and I’m supposed to welcome you home and perhaps ask, ‘How was your day, Honey?’  For God’s sake, Mike, its 3am! 

I know what time it is but obviously you don’t.  So let me enlighten you.  It’s time for you to get another ass kicking if you don’t get outta my face!  I’m tired of your nagging and I don’t plan to listen to any of that shit tonight.  Just get outta my face!

I know he’s been drinking and he has had too much.  Whenever he gets drunk his words slur and run together and he turns into a mean, ugly, hateful, hurtful, manipulating, controlling and angry man.  That just about covers the wonderful man I married and who and what he has become.  Nights like these also describe, more than just words could ever describe, what our beautiful marriage has become.

I know I should be quiet, but I can’t.  "With Erin again?  Working late again?  Why didn’t you just stay with her since you two have been together all day and most of the night?  I’m so tired of this.  I don’t know what you’re thinking.  Do you really think you can parade in and out of here on a whim at any time, day or night, and I’m supposed to accept it and say nothing?  Do you have any sober thoughts roaming around in what’s supposed to be a working brain?  Please, just go on to bed, sleep it off.  I don’t want the children to wake up to another fight and honestly I don’t have the energy to fight with you again."

I’m not going to bed, at least not here.

Then go now.  As I said before, I don’t want the children to wake up and hear us arguing and fighting.

"There ain’t gonna be a fight.  As I said before, if you keep running your mouth I’m gonna kick your ass!  And for the record you don’t know where I’ve been or who I’ve been with and I’m sick and tired of you accusing me of Erin.  I am leaving - not because you say so and not when you say so – I’ll leave when I’m ready to go.  Your name may be the only one on the lease but this is my place too and I’ll go and come when I get good and damn ready.  You can save us both time if you’ll lay out some fresh clothes for me while I shower."

You definitely need to take a shower.  You smell of stale liquor and even more of stale sex.  But instead of going back out, you need to go to bed and sleep it off.  As far as me laying out clothes for you, I’d take a beating before I’d lay out clothes for you to wear to see Erin, or any other woman for that matter. 

He laughs at me, a cruel and wicked laugh, then says, Be careful what you ask for, Bitch!  You don’t wanna find yourself gettin’ up on the other side of the room.  By the way, I need some money.  I’m not leaving broke.

I don’t have any money, Mike.  You took what I had when you left for work yesterday.  You used to have triple in your account as I had in mine.  What’s happened to your money?  Why can’t you hit the ATM, you’ve done a lot of that lately.  Have you exhausted whatever you had there?

You think you’re so slick.  I know you have money hidden ‘round here somewhere!  If not, call Joanne.  She’s always good for a few dollars.  She’s the one you always run to when you need something.  Wouldn’t be surprised if you two have something going besides just a friendship.  Don’t matter, I don’t care where you get it or how you get it.  Do whatever you need to do but understand - I don’t intend to leave here broke.  I need money and if you don’t have any Joanne is the closest.  Ask her to loan you something.  When I get done with my shower, get dressed and ready to go, you had better have come up with something or you’ll be one sorry-ass woman.

Mike!  It’s three o’clock in the morning!  Joanne is asleep.  I’m supposed to call her, wake her up and ask for money so you can go back to whatever and whoever you’ve been with all night?

That’s your best bet.  You don’t want the alternative.  I can definitely promise you that waking that bitch up will be the least of your problems if you don’t.

I’m trying hard not to let him see me cry.  Almost choking trying to hold back the sobs.  We didn’t start out this way and I hate what we’ve come to but I don’t know how to fix it.  I don’t even know any more if I want to fix it.  What I do know is that I can’t fix it by myself.  We once shared a love that was the center of our lives.  But now…I just don’t know.  Our marriage is nothing but a living hell and he doesn’t seem to know that, or worse, even to care. 

He’s in the shower and I sit down and try to pull myself together.  Should I tell him about the call from Erin or should I just call upstairs and borrow some money to get rid of him?  I know Joanne will give it to me but I hate having to ask her again.  She’s my best friend on earth and she’s aware of the problems in my marriage - including the abuse.  Even though this is not the first time I’ve had to borrow money from her, it doesn’t get any less humiliating.  Especially so when I have to tell her it’s for Mike. 

I haven’t had time to think about all the ramifications of Erin’s call and I’m not ready to talk about the call to anyone yet, not even Joanne.  I have to decide first what I’m going to do about it.  It will be enough to have to ask her for money, I can’t deal with anything else right now. 

Once more, she’ll ask why I continue to live like this.  I don’t have a good answer except that I’m praying Mike will stop.  Stop the beatings and the running around and now stop the affair Erin confirmed with her phone call earlier.  I’m tired of this but what can I do?  Where can I go?  I can’t just think about myself.  I have to think about the children too.  I do have some money saved that Mike doesn’t know about but I don’t keep it here and it’s nothing like what it would take to support myself and three children should I leave him.  The fear of being destitute and struggling to feed my children and keep a roof over our heads is one of the reasons I stay.  I know that’s an exaggeration.  My parents would never allow me and the children to suffer like that, but it’s not fair.  They raised me.  Are they supposed to raise my children too?  I’m ashamed to admit another reason I’m still here is because I still love him.  Maybe it’s not love, maybe it’s just my stubbornness not to give up on my dream – even though now it’s become a nightmare.

He’s right.  Unlike him, I’ve been saving a little out of every check.  What started as savings for a house has become somewhat of a safety net for me and the children if I have to leave him.  I pray it doesn’t come to that.  Starting over is scary to say the least and I’m not yet satisfied that our marriage is over.  I want to make it work. 

I have to think about the children.  I want them to grow up in a home with two parents.  Preferably two loving parents.  But I’ve been beaten and abused beyond belief and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.  No one outside of our home has any idea how abusive Mike can be.  To some extent, my friend Joanne knows and to a lesser extent my parents and probably his.  Even they have no idea of what I go through to try to keep this marriage and our lives afloat or of the frequency of the beatings he’s handed out to me.  I’ve lied and hidden the results of beatings as much as possible.  I’m tired.  Dear God in Heaven, I’m so tired and I’m beginning to think I can’t hold it together any more. 

I decide not to tell him about the call.  It’s enough that I know for certain what he’s been doing and with whom.  I wonder if she will tell him when he gets back.  I doubt it but if she does that’s not my worry right now.  Right now I have to get some money and then I’ll figure out what to do about everything else.  I just want him the hell away from here. 

I’m stalling trying to avoid the unavoidable.  I need to call Joanne and I need to do it now. 

Chapter 2 

Joanne

No, No!  No, No, No!  Please, Dear Lord God, not again!  I’m almost screaming.  At who?  I don’t know.  There is no one here with me and I know, while I’m answering this damn phone, that I wish I weren’t here either.  Wish I didn’t have to answer it but I do.  I see it’s Cheryl and she obviously needs me or she wouldn’t be calling at this ungodly hour.  And that’s not true, I am glad I’m here if she needs me.  It’s got to be Mike acting the fool again.

Hello, Cheryl. I say, resigned to what I know is coming next.

Joanne, he’s home and he’s drunk.  He claims to need money because he’s going back out again.  Do you have any money at all that I can borrow?  I don’t have any cash in the apartment.

Cheryl, not again!  Yes, I have money you can have.  And I’m not upset about loaning you whatever you need.  It’s not the money, it’s the way you continue to live like this.  Is it really worth it?  Is he really worth it?  I say all of this, bitter with frustration.  I stopped trying to hide my feelings that she should leave him.  I can’t, or refuse to try, to hide my contempt for him anymore. 

Cheryl and Mike have been together for twelve years, been married for ten and she’s been going thru hell with him for the last six of those years that I know of and she refuses to leave him.  I’ve talked until I’m blue in the face but she won’t budge.  I’m afraid that one of these days he’ll kill her but she won’t listen to me. 

Where is he right now?  Has he hurt you?   

No, he’s in the shower.  He says, quote unquote, that he’s gonna kick my ass if he gets out before I get him some money.  I can’t leave the children to go to an ATM.  Can you, will you, help me?

Yes, of course I can and I will help with some money but what you need to do, girlfriend, is go in the kitchen, boil a pot of water and when he steps out of the shower – BAM! 

Come on Joanne, you know I’m not doing that. 

With a groan of defeat, I tell my best friend for so many years that yes, I’ll do as she asks.  Come on up, I’ve got fifty you can have and more if you need it.  Please don’t talk about paying me back, neither of us could possibly pay back the other for all we’ve done for each other.  Fifty dollars won’t break the bank.  That should hold him long enough for him to get too drunk to come back home.  And if more will keep him away longer, preferably forever, there’s more where this came from! 

I got out of bed and went to my bureau.  I picked up the envelope and took out $50.  This is a damn shame.  I keep this envelope here only because of that bastard downstairs.  Cheryl called me once before for money for him and I didn’t have it.  Before I could get to an ATM, he’d carried out his threat to beat her.  Since then I keep an emergency fund just for her – whether it ends up being used for medical or just to get rid of Mike doesn’t matter.  She’s my friend and she’d do the same for me and I have no doubt about that.  I remember when…  Oh, oh, that has to be her knocking.

That is Cheryl.  I can tell she’s been crying but I don’t see any sign of redness or bruising on her face so far, I guess she’s okay.  I’ve heard stories of women who have suffered abuse from their husbands for years and continue to live like that.  I don’t understand it and yet, I guess I do.  I’ve read about all the psychological effects abuse can have on the victim in an abusive relationship.  I’ve read all I can get my hands on trying to give her as many reasons as I can for her to leave, to get out before it’s too late.  I’ve referenced many books about the effects on children when brought up in an abusive environment.  All to no avail.  I honestly think that if some man tried that with me, I’d be spending the rest of my life in prison because I’d truly kill his ass! 

Having given Cheryl the money, I’m back in bed now but I’ve already had all the sleep I’m going to get.  I can imagine what’s happening downstairs.  God, please, just let him leave.  Don’t let him hurt her again.  And God, you’d do us all a favor if you didn’t let him come back.  I’m sure it goes against all that’s good for me to pray that he will get into a fatal accident.  Even so, I’ve come so close to praying exactly that so many times.  I just wish he’d disappear.  God, in Heaven, make something happen that would make him never want to come back here again.  Let him disappear.  Or, maybe he could just fall down the steps on his way out and end up in a coma for the rest of his life and then I could pray that he be taken out of his misery.  Okay, stop it Joanne or you’re surely going to Hell. 

Forgive me, Lord, please forgive me for my thoughts of retribution.

Cheryl doesn’t deserve what she’s going through, no one does.  She works hard and she’s a good woman.  She loves her worthless husband, her wonderful children and the home she’s made for her family.  She’s a loving daughter, sister and friend.  She does all she can to provide the best possible life for her kids.  She’s just plain good.  It almost kills me to see her living like she does. 

She thinks she’s hiding the abuse, she isn’t.  She only confides in me when she can’t stand it anymore and needs someone to talk to or when she can’t hide the effects of his hitting her.  More than a few times she has needed money, like tonight, or asked me to watch the children because he’s beat her so badly she needs to go to the hospital for medical help.  There have been so many more times that she hasn’t told me about.  I’ve seen the bruises, the casts on her arm and wrist, the black eyes she’s tried to cover with makeup or hide behind sunglasses.  I’ve seen her wince with pain trying to stand, sit or walk.  I don’t call her out on that.  When she’s ready to tell me more, she will.  All I can do is be here for her.

I remember when I had trouble with Louis.  Another good-for-nothing man who thought he was God’s gift to women.  Unfortunately, for a while, I thought he was too!  I actually thought I was lucky to have him as my man.  I was wrong on two counts.  I wasn’t lucky and he wasn’t my man.  When I caught him with another woman and stupidly went after her instead of him, he tried to protect her from me.  I don’t know who ended up fighting whom.  We all ended up bruised and battered and it was Cheryl who was there for me. 

I had moved into Louis’ apartment and given up mine.  Bad idea!  After that altercation, he told me to get out.  This is my apartment, my name is the only one on the lease and I’ll entertain anyone here that I chose to and in any way I choose.  Just get out now!  He started picking up my clothes, makeup and anything else he could find that belonged to me and was throwing it in garbage bags!  I called Cheryl and she was at his apartment in minutes.  She helped me load my belongings into our cars and when I told her I’d spend the night in a hotel until I found something else, she adamantly refused.  She moved me into their place that same night and I was there until I, again with her help, got my own apartment. 

Back then she and Mike were happy.  Both had the same dreams and both were working hard to make them a reality.  That’s how we became neighbors, when this apartment opened up, she co-signed for me to move in.  I had maxed out my credit to fix up Louis’ apartment and for what?  To be put out in the street with no place to go.  Except Cheryl.  She was there and took me in. 

Cheryl and I met and became friends at Rush University College of Nursing.  I’m Manager of the Admissions Department and I worked with her when she applied for grants.  I admired her tenacity and determination to obtain the education that would allow her to achieve her goals.  We became friends, often sharing a cup of coffee or a lunch or movie when we both had the time.  Over time our friendship became more of a sisterhood. 

I lived with her and Mike for almost a year, paying off my credit cards and saving all the money I could.  I offered to pay Mike and Cheryl rent but Cheryl wouldn’t hear of it.  I did what I could to try to pay my way but she never charged me the first red penny. 

It wasn’t always easy for her having me there because Mike and I never really ‘clicked’.  We tolerated each other.  He and I never argued or anything like that, we just didn’t like each other.  Chemistry maybe. 

I’d bring in groceries or baby sit when they wanted to go out, but not because I was ever asked or because those things were done in lieu of paying rent.  The first time after I moved in and  they wanted a date night, Cheryl called a babysitter.  I told her no, I’d be happy to take care of Amy.  After that she would ask if I was busy.  I never was, not once.  I did what I could because I wanted to try in any way possible to show my appreciation.  Whatever I did was always too much from her point of view and never enough from mine.  That was almost ten years ago, Amy was a baby then, but if I live to be a hundred, I will never forget how Cheryl helped me and I’ll never be able to repay her.  So, yes, I’m glad I was home when she called tonight. 

I want to go downstairs and see how she is but I haven’t heard Mike leave yet.  If I go down and he’s still there, I know it will only make things worse for her.  She said he was drunk and threatening her.  For me to show up at their door would only add fuel to the fire.  So, I’ll sit here and worry. I should call the cops but I’m afraid to do that too.  If she wanted the cops called she would have done it or asked me to call when she came up for the money.  So, Joanne, just sit here and don’t make things worse for her.

Chapter 3

Cheryl

Joanne’s right.  I should leave Mike and we both know it.  She doesn’t mean to lecture me and she doesn’t do it out of anger.  I know that.  I can see the pain in her eyes when she sees the pain in mine.  We’re like sisters and we’ve shared enough times, good and bad, that we know each other well.  I will offer to pay her back but she’s right again when she says I know she won’t take it.  I have saved some money but I can’t keep it here at home.  I can’t take the chance that Mike will find it.  No one knows about my secret savings except Mama, Daddy and my brother, Junior.

When Mike and I first started saving, it was to be a down payment as soon as we were finally able to buy a home.  Mother and Father Anderson, Mike’s parents, have offered to give us a down payment to start us off.  Although I’m sure either or both could afford it without ever noticing the absence of that money, Mike and I wanted to do it for ourselves.  Today Mike would probably accept it without thinking twice.  Recently whenever I bring up the subject of moving into something larger than this apartment, he seems less than enthusiastic.  After Mike started to hit me I became even more determined to save but I didn’t tell Mike.  It became obvious that he preferred spending his money in bars and on his friends as opposed to saving for our future.  I was the only one making deposits toward a new home.  My motivation for saving was no longer our future.  It was now security in case our marriage were to end.  I gave whatever I could to my parents to save for me as I had no doubt, based on Mike’s steady withdrawals, the account previously, proudly, lovingly and longingly referred to as our New House Account would soon be depleted.   

Mama and Daddy have a safe in their home and that’s where they keep my money.  I have keys to their house.  I know the safe combination so I can get to it anytime I need it, regardless of whether they are home or not.  If and when I leave Mike, I know I’ll need all I can get to take care of myself and the children so I keep building on it as often as I can and with as much as I can possibly squeeze out.  I hope and pray we won’t end up in divorce court.  I kept hoping that Mike would somehow revert back to the man I believed him to be when we were married.  Now I know a divorce is probably inevitable.  How long will I wait?  I don’t know, right now I just want him gone, if only for the night. 

I’ve got to move.  Mike is out of the shower and getting dressed.  I ran upstairs and Joanne was waiting at the door.  I told her I’d call her later, took the $50 and ran back down.  When I went into the bedroom to give him the money he was putting on clean pants and a shirt.  What about underwear? I ask. 

Don’t need any he says with a smirk and a wink.  That will only slow me down.

Before I can think right, because I do know better, I’ve picked up a book and thrown it at his head.  He ducked and came after me.  By the time he left I had blood running from my mouth, my nose was bleeding and I had a cut on my cheek which was also bleeding.  I suppose the cut was caused by his ring.  I know when I look in the mirror, if my eyes are not too swollen to see, I’ll have two black eyes.  Already, when I try to move, my ribs are so sore it takes immense effort just to breathe.  He knocked me down and then kicked me when I fell.  I don’t know how many times he hit or kicked me, I don’t remember but for now, he’s gone.  I’m still sitting on the floor when Amy comes in the kitchen.  She helps me to my feet and to a chair. 

Mama, are you alright?  She has seen, or maybe only heard, the commotion between her father and me in the kitchen and now has come to help me.  I’m sorry and ashamed that she’s so often been a witness to this. 

Yes, I lied to my daughter.  She knows I’m not alright.  It is now almost four o’clock in the morning.  I’m looking at a ten-year-old child, my ten year old child, with tears in her eyes staring at her mother whose face looks like she’s just come home from a mugging.  Behind Amy is her six-year-old brother, Josh, who is holding Lil’Bit (Maya) now six months old. 

At ten, as smart as Amy is for her age, it isn’t just being smart that makes her know to get some ice, wrap it in a towel and gently place it on my face. She probably doesn’t know the reasons for the ice but she knows the routine so she gets the ice.  She’s seen me, more often than I’d like to admit, do just that when I tried to eliminate as much bruising and swelling as possible.  She’s a good girl and she loves me and wants to help me. 

She’s brushing my hair back and telling me everything will be okay.  I wasn’t crying until she said that.  I’m not crying due to the hurt from the beating – that pain will be much worse later – the tears now are because I know how much Mike and I are hurting her.  No child should have to live like my kids are living and as much as I hate him for doing it, I’m beginning to hate myself just as much for letting him get away with it.

Should I call Gramma or Auntie Joanne? Amy asked.  Mama and Joanne are always the ones called if I need help.  I’ll hear from both of them that I should call the police and have him arrested.  I’ve never before done that but he’s never hurt me this bad before.  Amy is waiting for me to answer and I feel terrible that this too has become that much of a routine.  As bad as I dread the talk I’ll receive from Mama, I know I need to go to the hospital so I tell Amy to go ahead and make the call to Mama.

Tonight is not unusual, in fact, the usual scenario is something like this: Mike comes home drunk or angry and picks a fight with me.  Dinner is not ready or he doesn’t like what I’ve cooked or how I cooked it.  Fried chicken should have been baked or vice versa.  Spaghetti and meat sauce should have been spaghetti and meatballs or vice versa and it goes on and on.  There are toys on the floor, don’t I know how to keep a place clean?  What have I been doing all day?  He seems to forget, or not care, that I’ve worked all day too.  He also seems to forget that after work, I came home (unlike him) and played with the children, prepared dinner, went over homework, bathed the children, read nighttime stories, listened to prayers and put our children to bed. 

Sometimes I think he uses all of this just to give him a reason to hit me or hit the streets again.  I try to keep my mouth shut, I really do.  When I manage to do that he asks if I’m stupid and demands that I answer him.  It doesn’t matter what I say, he’ll find an excuse to hit me and then he’s gone again. 

When he leaves, depending on the severity of the beating, I either call Mama or Joanne.  If I need to go to the hospital then I’ll call Joanne to come down and stay with the children or if it’s really bad and I think I’ll be kept overnight then I’ll call Mama to pick up the children.  After his beatings, I’ve gone to the hospital with a broken nose, a fractured wrist and another time a broken arm and a concussion. There have been times that I’ve gone simply because I knew I couldn’t go to work the next day and needed them to see why.  When I arrived with bruises, contusions, and a variety of other injuries to my face including black eyes, I’d lie and say I fell or stopped short in the car and hit my face on the steering wheel or one of the many other reasons (lies) I’d give for being hurt.  Often there was blood to clean up.  My blood.  Most of the time I would take a couple pills and ice whatever’s hurting and go to bed. 

I didn’t lie so much to protect Mike, he didn’t need protection because I never called the police.  I lied because I was ashamed to admit my husband beat me.  How many times have I been on duty when an abused woman came to the hospital beaten, bloody and needing medical assistance?  How many women have I listened to while she lied and refused help from the police who could have arrested him?  There were, occasionally, husbands and boyfriends who arrived with the same lies, but not nearly as frequently as wives and girlfriends.  Those of us attending to the wounds and sometimes broken or fractured bones could have called the police and legally should have called.  However, the abused woman, or man, would warn us that if we called they would deny anything we said.  I never knew that one day I would be that woman.

Chapter 4

Mama Evans

The phone is ringing.  At this hour it can only be Cheryl.  He’s hit her again.  I reach for the phone and nudge Joe to wake him up.

Hello, Cheryl?

No, Gramma, this is Amy. Here’s Mommy.

Hello, Mama.  Can you pick up the children for me? 

Why?  That son-of-a-bitch beat you up again? 

Yes, Mama.

"How bad this time?’

He hit me in the face with his fist.  My nose may be broken again and I’m sure I’ll have black eyes. I have a pretty deep cut on my cheek and my mouth is also bleeding.  My ribs are sore and may be fractured because he kicked me in the side when I fell to the floor.  He’d been drinking, I think pretty heavily, and I’m sure he hit me harder than he realized.  I’m hurt this time, Mama, I’m really hurting.

Oh, my God!  Yes, I’ll be right there.  You said pick up the children, what about you?  Stop making excuses for him!  There is no reason for him to lay hands on you, or for that matter, for any man to lay hands on any woman.

Mama, I can’t talk about it now, I’ve got to get to the hospital.

I’ll pick up the children.  I’ll be there just as fast as I can.  But, Cheryl, before this night is over I want you to call the cops on him!  I’m on my way as soon as I can get some clothes on, we’ll talk more when I get there.

Okay, Mama. You’re right.  I’ve already decided to call the police.  Just do me a favor.  I’m not only asking you to pick them up for tonight, I’ll probably need them to stay with you for a couple days. I’m sure I’ll have to stay at the hospital at least overnight.  Tonight is Friday so there’s no school.  Taking care of Amy and Josh plus baby Lil’Bit is a lot to ask.  Amy will help out.  She’s good with both Josh and Lil’Bit.  Even after I’m released from the hospital it may be a few days until I can care for them myself or even drive again.  He really hurt me this time, Mama.

What nonsense!  What do you mean ‘it’s a lot to ask’?  My baby girl needs me to take care of my grands for a few days, weeks or months!  Joe and I will love every minute of it.  And if you need to stay here, you’re welcome too, for as long as you need us.  We’ll enjoy taking care of you right along with Amy, Josh and Lil’Bit.  Don’t you worry, Dad, Joe Jr. and I are all here for you.  If you must worry, then worry about your job.  You won’t be able to go back to work for quite a while. Will they give you time off?  Do you need to stay with us until you feel better?

Mama, I don’t have the answers to all that right now.  Yes, I’ll at least spend a day or two with you and Daddy.  I don’t want to be here when Mike comes home and I won’t be able to drive for a while.  I’m pretty battered right now and I know enough to know I won’t feel any better tomorrow.  In fact, I will probably feel worse.  Just come as quickly as you can.  Please Mama, we’ll talk later.

I’m on my way now. 

I’m already out of bed, and have been getting dressed as I talked to Cheryl.  Although Joe knows from hearing my side of the conversation what’s happening, I give him details while I finish dressing.  I’m going to pick up our grandkids.  He gets out of bed to come with me.  I tell him no and ask him to call Junior and let him know what’s going on.  If Mike comes home and finds Cheryl gone, the first place he’ll come looking is here.  I’d like Junior to be here if that happens."

Chapter 5

Cheryl

When Mama came in, she took one look at me and I thought she might faint.  Instead, she took charge.  Amy, I’ll stay here with your Mommy.  You go and pack some clothes for yourself, Josh and Lil’Bit.  You’ll be staying with me and Grandpa for a few days while Mommy gets better.  Go on now, hurry so Mommy can get to the hospital.

As soon as Amy and the children are out of the room, Mama says, Cheryl, I can’t keep watching you get beat up time after time and then go back home to wait for him to beat you again.  How long before he hits one of the children?  All three of your children are crying and Lil’Bit doesn’t even know why!  All Amy and Josh know is that their Daddy beat up their Mommy again.  When are you going to grow a spine and put a stop to this mess?  Mama continues through her tears.  "Are you waiting for him to kill you or are you waiting for your Daddy or brother to kill him so you can watch them spend the rest of their lives in jail because you didn’t do something to stop him yourself?  Cheryl, if you don’t call the police, I’m going to!  This nonsense has got to stop!"

I know, Mama.  In answer to your next question about work, Yes, I’m sure I can get time off, my job won’t be in jeopardy.  I’ll call HR on Monday and ask for a Leave of Absence ostensibly to finish my studies for my certificate as a Nurse Practitioner.  A Leave of Absence for continuing education has been offered before so I don’t think it will be a problem.  I could also ask for a Medical Leave of Absence but I’d have to explain more than I want to.  The problem will be that either way, educational or FMLA, it will be unpaid time off.  Insurance will take care of medical expenses but I’ll need the money I’ve saved to pay bills.  Thank God, I have that!  I guess the time has come that I stop telling lies about why I’m back at the hospital again.  I know they know but now I’ll have to say it out loud.  It’s not going to be easy admitting I’m a victim of spousal abuse.  I never thought of myself like that.  I’ve always thought I was saving my marriage and giving my children a home to grow up in.  So much for that.

Now, baby, don’t worry about any of that.  For now, you just get yourself to the hospital and get taken care of.  You can hardly talk or see because your face is a mess!  You know your father and I will help you over the rough spots until you can get back to work again.  He will be as happy as me when he finds out you’re finally calling the police on Mike.  You just get better. 

Okay, Mama, and I know it’s not necessary, but thank you anyway.  As soon as Amy, Josh and Lil’Bit are out of the house I’ll call the police.  I haven’t cleaned up anything.  I want them to see me, see my face and all of the blood on the table, wall and floor.  I’ll have him arrested and I promise to file charges.  I’ll call an ambulance to get to the hospital and I’ll get back to your house as soon as I can.   

Mama tells me now I’m talking like I have an ounce of sense and asks if I want one of them to go to the hospital with me or to meet me there. 

No, you’re doing enough and I don’t know how long I’ll be there.  Just take care of the children.

You know I will.

Mama calls Amy and asks her if she’s ready to go, adding that she should just pack enough for tonight and tomorrow. 

We’ll get whatever else you need later.

Yes, Gramma.  I’m almost done."

Cheryl, the minute we’re gone, call the police and then get yourself to the hospital.  Don’t take a minute more than necessary.  Get out before he comes back.  And Cheryl, if you follow thru on this I’ll be so proud of you.  I love you but I can’t be of any real help to you until you begin to help yourself. 

I know you’re right Mama and I’m tired of this too.  I don’t like hurting the children, or you and Daddy, and I guess I’ve known for a long time that the only way it will stop is if I stop it.

Do it and do it now!  Mama says this quietly but with such an intense hatred for Mike that she can hardly speak.

Gramma.  I’m done packing and Josh and Lil’Bit are dressed and ready to go.

Okay, Baby.  Let’s get everything in the car and be on our way. 

Both Amy and Josh say bye to Cheryl and tell her to get well and that they love her.

Chapter 6

Mama Evans

On the way home, I asked Amy if she was okay.  She was just sitting there, hugging herself and quietly crying.  She had heard some of the conversation between Cheryl and me when I first arrived at the apartment.  She asked me if her Daddy was really going to go to jail.  There was no reason to sugar-coat this any more than necessary so I told her yes, I was sure that he would.  Baby, no one has the right to hit anyone like your Daddy hits your Mommy.  Do you know what a consequence is?

Yes, Gramma.  That’s what happens after you do something you’re not supposed to do and you get caught.

Yes, Baby.  That’s close enough.  Well your Daddy is going to have to pay the consequences for what he’s done.  Do you understand?

Yes, Gramma.

On the way home, I called and asked Junior to come out and help me with the children.  As soon as the children were inside, I got them settled in on our sofa bed.  Josh and Lil’Bit were already asleep having gone to sleep in the car on the way here.  Amy is awake but seems to have settled down some. 

Joe has already filled Junior in on what he knew had happened.  Joe is not well.  Like his father before him, he’s been in and out of the hospital for years.  He suffered another heart attack a few months ago and is still recovering.  Both Junior and I are concerned that if his general health isn’t his demise, these episodes with Cheryl and Mike will be.  He seems okay, at least as okay as a loving father can be when he knows his daughter is being abused.  Junior is making a pot of coffee.

I join Junior and Joe in the kitchen so I can tell them what I’d seen without Amy hearing.  I know she knows, after all she witnessed it, but I don’t want to upset her all over again by hearing us talk about it.  I assure Joe and Junior that Cheryl is calling the police and then is going to the hospital and will come here as soon as she can. 

  How badly is she hurt, Mama? 

As bad as I’ve ever seen her, Baby.  It’s only been an hour or so and already both eyes are black and blue.  I’m sure there’s clotting there too but it’s hard to tell because both eyes are almost swollen shut.  She has a cut on her cheek and another one inside her mouth.  I’m worried about the bleeding.  Even with ice, her nose and probably her cheek are still oozing blood.  At the apartment there is blood on the floor, wall and table.  She could hardly stand to walk me and the children to the door, in fact we let ourselves out.  I’m sure she won’t be home tonight.  I wanted your Dad to call you in case Mike comes over here looking for Cheryl or the kids.  There is no way he’s leaving here with those children after what he’s done to their mother.

Junior, as angry as I’ve ever seen him, declares Mama, I wish to hell he would show up.  Nothing more I’d like to do at this minute than get my hands on him.  What kind of man does this?

Junior, if he does show up, I don’t want you to end up in jail.  We need you.  Cheryl needs you.  I had Dad call you because just you being here will stop Mike from causing trouble.  He’d probably run right through your Dad and I.

Not likely, said Dad.  He might be able to run through me, but he wouldn’t run through Smith and Wesson who are always available if there’s trouble.

"Listen, both of you.  No Fighting!  Don’t you think there’s already been enough of that for one night?  If he shows up and Junior can’t convince him to leave, we’ll call the police.  Junior will not fight and you won’t call on your friends in the bedroom.  We have a good and sturdy door that will keep him out until the police can get here but if he comes through that, all bets are off!  Understood?  Both of you."

"Yes, Mama, we understand.  No unnecessary rough stuff, but if he starts it, it will be my pleasure to finish it!"

And, Son, Joe promised, If for some reason you can’t handle it, my friends and I will have your back!

Chapter 7

Amy

As soon as I’m sure Gramma and Grandpa are asleep, I pull the covers over my head and get my journal and penlight from my backpack.  I call it my diary but it’s not a real one.  I have some of those too but there’s not enough room to write and I like to put everything down.  I guess I love writing as much as I do reading what other people have written.  Anyway…

Dear Diary:

Everyone is asleep now, at least I think so.  Uncle Joe is gone and I don’t hear Gramma and Grandpa talking any more.  I’m afraid.  I’m afraid Daddy will come back.  At least Mommy is in the hospital so he can’t hurt her anymore.

I want to talk to Mommy and Daddy and even to Gramma and Grandpa.  I know Daddy only hurts Mommy when he’s mad but I don’t understand that.  He says he loves her so why does he hurt her?  No one will talk to me about this, they say I’m too young to understand and that it’s grown-up business.  How does anyone know anything if they can’t ask questions?  If it’s something they want me to know, like homework, they tell me if I don’t understand something to ask questions.  But if I ask about something else, then they tell me that I’m too young to understand.  I guess I am because I don’t.

I’m glad I have you, Dear Diary, I can say whatever I’m thinking and even if you can’t answer, sometimes after I write to you, I can figure it out for myself. 

Mostly I want to know why Daddy hits Mommy.  Now he did it again.  He beat up Mommy really bad this time.  I wanted to help her, to try to stop him but Mommy says I should never do that.  She said I’m not strong enough to stop him and I might get hurt which would make her feel even worse.  She says when I hear an argument I need to get Lil’Bit and go to Josh’s room, stay quiet and keep both of them quiet too.  She says not to come out, no matter what, as long as they are arguing.  It’s hard not to go see what’s happening and sometimes I crack the door open just a little so I can hear.  If they are in the living room sometimes I can even see them. 

When it’s all over, if Daddy leaves, I put Lil’Bit back in her crib and I go check on Mommy.  Sometimes when I come out of my room, she’s just sitting and crying.  Tonight she just sat on the floor trying to use her sleeve to wipe all the blood off her nose.  She couldn’t even get up by herself, every time she tried she kind of groaned and sat back down.  I helped her up, helped her to a chair at the table and then went for ice to put on her face.  After that she just sat there and we waited for Gramma to pick us up.

I want to ask Daddy why he does it but Mommy says this is grown up stuff.  She says I should not talk to anyone about it, not even Daddy, so I stay quiet and just watch and listen.  Mommy doesn’t know that I open the door and sometimes peek.  I hear a lot but it doesn’t make me understand and I can’t ask because I’m not supposed to know.

If I could I would ask Daddy why he hits Mommy.  I’ve heard him apologize and tell her how sorry he is and how much he loves her and even that he didn’t mean to hurt her.  He didn’t say that tonight.  Even if he said it, if he really loved her he wouldn’t hit her.  You’re not supposed to hit people.  Mama tells us that all the time.  If Josh and I hit each other we have to go to time out and maybe not be able to watch TV. 

Dear Diary, I think I’m going to write a lot tonight.  I’ve already written a lot and I’m not done yet. That’s why you’re a journal and not a regular diary.  I need to talk to someone and you’re the only one I can talk to tonight.  I’m scared.  Scared that one day the hospital won’t be able to fix up my Mommy.  I pray to God every time this happens and He always helps them fix her up. I pray He does this time too.

I’ve heard Daddy say that it’s Mommy’s fault.  Heard him say that if she didn’t say what she said or didn’t do what she did then he wouldn’t lose his temper and end up hitting her.  I’ve seen how it ends.  I’ve just never seen how it starts because I’m asleep when Daddy comes home.  I’ve never seen or heard what Mommy did or didn’t do or say to make him mad.  I don’t really care what she did or didn’t do.  Daddy shouldn’t hurt her like that.  One time I told Mommy I hated Daddy for hurting her.  She told me to never say that again.  She said that God wanted me to love both of my parents, that it’s one