Loving Bitsy: Loving Bitsy Series, #1

By Virginia Dare

Bitsy Russo is trapped in an abusive marriage. Lawyer Simon Levine is trapped in an abusive marriage of his own. Living in the same apartment building in the borough of Queens, New York they pass like ships in the night, until Simon takes a second look at the shy young woman. Little does he know she's taken a second look of her own. Recognizing the signs of abuse, Simon wants to rescue Bitsy. But, does Bitsy need to be rescued or will she be strong enough to save herself? Tensions build, tempers flare, and passion erupts in this contemporary tale of domestic violence, hidden romance, and unexpected courage. The first in the Loving Bitsy series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dragonfly Books
• Release date: Feb 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224487899

Virginia Dare

After spending most of my life in Queens, New York, where I locate most of my stories, I  retired from a career in Healthcare and moved to a small house in upstate New York.  I live with a multitude of pets including but not limited to a couple of cats, three dogs and a goat.  When I'm not busy writing, I enjoy reading, crocheting, gardening, cooking and baking.  The Loving Bitsy series addresses many of the issues I dealt with as a healthcare professional.

Book preview

Forward

When I was eighteen years old I married my childhood boyfriend. We’d known one another since 1st Grade. We didn’t officially begin dating until we were both sixteen. Neither of our parents approved of the relationship. If they had known some of the darker details of what went on they may have tried harder to keep us apart. My then-boyfriend (let’s call him Paul) was extremely jealous and possessive. He had the usual excuses for his controlling behavior. He wanted to protect me from men who might take advantage of me. This was ironic since our first sexual encounter was a result of him raping me. Paul told me what clothes I could wear, where I could go, who I could talk to... he controlled every aspect of my life. I made my own excuses for his behavior. He was insecure. Things would improve when we were married. I tried to break up with him twice but he cried, told me he couldn’t live without me, and begged me for another chance. I relented.

On the day of our wedding, I stood at the altar exchanging vows knowing I was making a mistake. But I felt things had gone too far. When the priest asked if anyone objected, I silently prayed someone would leap up and stop the madness I had resigned myself to. There were no objections.

On our honeymoon, he tore up my two-piece bathing suit top because he believed another man was looking at my breasts.  Did I mention this was a couples-only resort where the majority of guests were honeymooners?

On returning home I was restricted to our apartment while he was at work. He would call me hourly to make certain I was home. Sometimes he would pop in during the day to check up on me. Eventually, he gave me permission to go to the grocery store or neighborhood shops as long as I could complete the shopping within an hour. Then he would question me; did I look at anyone, did any man look at me, did I talk to anyone, did I see anyone I knew...

The abuse grew more severe over the next few years. I got pregnant with our first child three years into the marriage. I had to have a female gynecologist. During my pregnancy, she was out of town for an appointment and I was seen by her partner, a male doctor. I never told Paul. I knew he would go crazy and I was afraid.

When our third child was an infant she was hospitalized with meningitis and sepsis. After a lumbar puncture a doctor brought her to us in the room she was assigned. I reached out to take my very sick baby from the doctor and held her close. Paul’s reaction after the doctor left us was to ask if the doctor had touched my breasts. The stress of having a school-aged daughter and a pre-school aged son at home while my two-month-old baby was in the hospital turned out to be a catalyst. I had what I now know was a breakdown. When I brought her home, I became obsessed with cleaning the house. Then I became obsessed with my weight. Soon I was working out for hours at a time, barely eating (lettuce leaves, black coffee, over the counter diet pills), and purging if I ate anything with more than 20 calories. This went on for months. As my best friend watched me deteriorate, she grew more and more concerned. She knew about the abuse which had once again escalated.

To add to the physical, mental, emotional, and financial abuse, Paul had begun going out on weekend nights to various clubs with members of a band he was supposedly part of. One time I complained we weren’t spending as much time with the kids as a family. Angered that he might have to skip a night out, he tossed my baby onto the couch. Fortunately, she was not injured. After that, I made no objections. It was a blessed relief to have a few hours of peace. And that was the turning point for me. I had accepted my own abuse, but I refused to stand by while he threatened or injured my children.

On our tenth anniversary, I packed up as much as I could and moved in with my best friend. What ensued was a few years of battles while he tried to convince me he had changed and I should return. There were court hearings, counseling, group therapy for me with other abused women, and Paul refusing to attend group sessions for abusers. I struggled to get my life on track and protect my children. I went to college. I learned to be strong.

Eventually, I fled the city where we lived and started a new life hundreds of miles away. It was then that I finally felt safe. That was over thirty years ago. I have remarried to a man who would never even think of harming me. I have earned my degree. I have worked in high focus jobs. I have volunteered with domestic violence groups.

My abuser choked me, punched me, shook me, pointed a gun at me, threw things at me, screamed at me, controlled the money in our household, alienated me from friends and family, raped me, called me vile names, kept me captive, threatened me, knocked me down, struck me with implements, destroyed clothing, to name only a few of the things I suffered during ten years of marriage.  Elizabeth Horton-Newton

Did You Know?

In the United States, an average of 20 people experience intimate partner physical violence every minute. This equates to more than 10 million abuse victims annually

1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men experience severe intimate partner physical violence, intimate partner contact sexual violence, and/or intimate partner stalking with impacts such as injury, fearfulness, posttraumatic stress disorder, use of victim services, contraction of sexually transmitted diseases, etc. This is commonly considered domestic violence

1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner. This includes a range of behaviors and in some cases might not be considered domestic violence

1 in 7 women and 1 in 25 men have been injured by an intimate partner

1 in 10 women have been raped by an intimate partner. Data is unavailable on male victims

1 in 7 women and 1 in 18 men have been stalked. Stalking causes the target to fear she/he/they or someone close to her/him/them will be harmed or killed

On a typical day, domestic violence hotlines nationwide receive over 20,000 calls

An abuser’s access to a firearm increases the risk of intimate partner femicide by 400%.

 Intimate partner violence accounts for 15% of all violent crime

 Intimate partner violence is most common against women between the ages of 18-24

 19% of intimate partner violence involves a weapon.

If you or someone you know is being abused please call The National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233

For more information: https://www.thehotline.org/is-this-abuse/abuse-defined/

Chapter 1

BITSY RUSSO SAT AT her kitchen table with a mug of cold coffee in front of her.  She’d been sitting there since her husband Paul left for work an hour before.  His breakfast dishes were still on the table and she had the urge to shove them off, sending them crashing to the floor.  But she knew she wouldn’t do it.  The phone rang and she sighed heavily.  She crossed the living room and picked it up.

Hello. She said, her voice flat.

Snap out of it Bitsy.  I hate it when you try to guilt me.

Snap out of it she thought bitterly catching her reflection in the mirror over the mantle.  The handprint on her cheek wasn’t as red as it had been last night, but it was still visible.  Her head still ached from being slammed into the wall.  She’d been up all night, afraid to sleep in case she had a concussion. But hell, just snap out of it, Bitsy.

Of course, she knew better than to say anything except I’m sorry, Paul.  I’m just tired.

Tired?  From what?  You don’t do anything but sit around that apartment all day. He chided. Listen, I’m going out with Tom tonight so have my dinner ready as soon as I get home. My client’s here, gotta go. He hung up leaving Bitsy holding the phone as relief flooded through her.  Still the few hours of peace could come with a price.  He’d be drinking, sometimes he was a happy drunk, and sometimes he’d come home itching for a fight.  A fight she couldn’t do anything to avoid because whatever she said or did would be wrong in his eyes.

Bitsy hung up the phone, staring at herself in the mirror.  Sometimes she was afraid he’d kill her and yet if he did at least it would be over.  Paul Russo was her high school sweetheart but even then, he was controlling.  She should have known; she should have walked away but she was sixteen and he was the first boy to ask her out.  He was on the football team, and he was tall with dark hair and deep brown eyes.  Even after he forced himself on her, she continued seeing him.  When she found out she was pregnant, she had the first real glimpse of the monster inside him.  Shaking her head, she thought Well there’s no sense beating myself up about it. Paul does enough of that.  Bitsy set about clearing the table and washing the dishes.    Sometimes he came home for lunch but thankfully not that day.  Looking at the door to make sure the chain was on, Bitsy dug her book out from under the couch.  It was one of those bodice-ripping, member throbbing pirate romances.  Paul forbid her to read them, he said she didn’t need that smut.  Never mind the Playboy and Penthouse magazines he kept in the nightstand on his side of the bed. She always kept a little money back from the grocery shopping budget to buy them. 

She had a library card, and always had a stack of appropriate reading material to read when he was around. She loved to read; it was her only escape from the dark, ugly life she lived.  Paul made fun of her for it, but then he barely graduated from High School and flunked out of college the first semester. 

Four o’clock came suddenly and she rushed to get his dinner ready.  When he came in, he looked for the mail, which she forgot to get again.  He went to take a shower and she took the elevator down to the lobby. 

After retrieving the mail, she got back on the elevator just as a man came rushing through the lobby.  Hold the elevator. He called out but instead, she pushed the button to close the doors.

He was too fast, sticking his arm in, causing the doors to slide back.  Bitsy shrank into a corner as he got on.  Oh God!  It’s him!  She thought frantically.  Paul had forbidden her to ride in the elevator alone with a man and Oh lord, why did it have to be this man?  If Paul caught her, there would be hell to pay.  Her being alone in the elevator with a good-looking man was bound to make her husband crazy, well crazier. Her hands started shaking and she bit her lip.  The man said something but she didn’t answer.  She stared at the floor, sneaking a look toward his feet.  The shiny black shoes and bottoms of his creased trousers were all she could see but it was enough to make her heart skip a beat.  This was her daydream guy.  When she read one of her forbidden books, this was the guy ripping open her bodice.  The elevator stopped at her floor and Paul wasn’t standing there. Relief flooded through her as she ran out of the elevator and down the hall.  She entered the apartment just as Paul came out of the bathroom.  He snatched the mail out of her hand and went to the table.  Bitsy hurried to get his plate and began counting down the minutes until he’d leave.  Twenty-three years old and this was it for her. This apartment was her prison, and she was sentenced to life without parole. Paul looked up at her and she forced a smile.

I got you something today. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to her. 

Thank you. She said softly and opened it.  A ring, another cheap costume jewelry ring but then that was the way this worked.  Get the hell beat out of you and get a prize the next day.  Sometimes flowers, sometimes cheap jewelry, and if the beating was really bad maybe a real piece of jewelry.  She steeled herself and bent over to give him the expected kiss.  As far as Paul was concerned that was the end of it. 

After dinner, he kissed her again, then rushed out the door.  Bitsy