With brows furrowed, her head throbbed and pulsated to the rhythm of her heart. Her stiffed limbs weigh her down like anchors as she drags them at a crawling pace. Every pounding footstep inches her across the frigid tile floor, causing her muscles to ache. In between sobs, her throat — parched and raw — gasps for air. Finally she reaches for a nightlight and flicks it on.
She shudders at the image in the mirror that mocks back at her. One eye swollen shut. How did I come to this? Bruised cheek bone. How did that happened? Bloody nose. When will it end? Busted lip. How much more can I take? His curses echo in her head. But the dagger of betrayal she feels in her heart hurt more than the blow to her face.
She thought he loved her! Hadn’t she given him everything? But it’s never enough. He takes and takes, sucking her very life, until she’s deflated, a shell barely standing on the breaking point. She keeps offering herself, just one more time, hoping this time will be different.
“He will see me now!” Yet she is invisible to him.
The voices in her head tell her you are a mere child to him, like a puppet held by a string with no goals, dreams, or desires. He’s blinded to your needs and deaf to your cries. You are dead to him!
Truth be told, she died long ago. She’s empty. Used up. Bruised. And barren.
She turns from the image and screams out in darkness! Crying. Pleading. Longing.
“God, are you there? Do you feel my pain? Can you hear my voice? Do you not see my tears? When will you mend my bleeding heart?”
But she feels her prayers only hit the ceiling.
“Mama! Mama, are you praying for me? I’m still here. I’m not a quitter. I thought I could do better but I was only fooling myself. I can’t go on.”
“Somebody, tell me: How. To. Live.”
Why did I write this? Because I know from my own personal past experience what this feels like. While my memoir mentions some of the dark, hard knocks that I endured within my first marriage, I am happy to report I’m not that girl anymore. I am no longer a victim. I am a survivor. I learned that my yesterdays does not have to define my tomorrows.
I want to reach out to those who may be in a dark place, and involved in a relationship that is sucking the very life out of them. I want you to know that you don’t have to be ashamed of your pain. You don’t have to suffer in silence! My prayer is that if my story touches just one person — bringing hope and light into their dark place — then I have done something right.
I am desiring to write a compilation of stories from others who have also survived domestic abuse and domestic violence. Those who have moved on, healed, and don’t have a vendetta against another or hold any bitterness. I believe these are the ones who come out stronger and better and can shine and bring hope to the hurting. If this is you please contact me: firstname.lastname@example.org
Together we can make a difference.
© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved
17 responses to “A Voice Cries Out in Silence”
I have no words that express how brave you are. All I can do is to write this is and to like your post.
Reblogged this on David Snape and Friends – The place to show off your hidden talents.
Congratulations, I have picked this post as my post of the week. That means I will read out your post on my radio show. Check out the radio show post on Monday for you to have a listen. Congratulations once more 😃
I am honored, David. Together we can make a difference! Thank you!
We certainly can, thank you so much 😃
Hi…. The pain of abuse can endure for a lifetime, although with God’s strength and healing we can be set free. I’d be interested in sharing my experience with you and also learning more about your plans for a compilation of similar stories. My email is email@example.com.
Hi Pam, I’ll be getting in touch with you soon. God bless.
Very well written, and so brave of you, Mary. You are helping a lot of women ‘see’ themselves through your eyes. Well done.
Until you live the experience of abuse, the understanding of all that comes with it is not imaginable . It is an experience that unless you actually live through it, goes so deep into your soul, that there seems to no hope at all. This will expose the hopelessness and all the emotions that this man made Hell has to offer.
Domestic abuse is one of the most despicable of all transgressions. Thanks for shining the spotlight on this deplorable behavior.
Yes, Joe. Unfortunately domestic abuse and violence occurs in race and religions, shapes and sizes, status and stages, creed and color … This is a Universal problem.
So written, gripping all emotions. I believe you will hear from many women who want their story told. Giving them a voice. God bless all your efforts to bring women out of the darkness into His glorious light.
So well written, so sad.
Thank you so much for stopping by and commenting. I hope you’ll read additional comments that I had added at the end. It explains the intent of this post.
Thanks for adding that note. A book on healing and surviving is a good idea. It sounds like you are the right person to do it. I wish you well.
I am reminded how God loves us just the way we are, but He loves us too much to leave us that way!