Harlow.

Harlow was completely bipolar with his emotions. When I woke up in Harlow’s bed, wrapped in my towel, after I took my shower Harlow broke down. Harlow did have a guilty conscience after all. He cried, and begged me to forgive him. He told me he was sorry and he told me he never intended to hurt me. Harlow even promised to let me leave if I just stayed one more night with him. For a while I must have been going through Stockholm Syndrome because I sympathized for him, I believed him.

I stayed one more night with Harlow. I’m ashamed to say I let him hold me until we both fell asleep in his enormous bed. I cursed myself when I woke up in the drafty basement on the filthy mattress.

Harlow was ruthless with his beatings and having his way with me. After so long of not crying, I caved and I cried all night after Harlow had raped me once again. I couldn’t imagine why I had trusted him. Harlow was sometimes sweet and caring and he’d take me up to his room and let me shower and then just spend the rest of the day or night holding me like his life depended on it, feeding me all sorts of lines about how sorry he was and how much he loved me.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Harlow cooed while he had me wrapped in his arms as we laid on his bed and he watched TV. I was crying. Some stupid sitcom about a family made me aware of how badly I wanted to see my family. I missed my mom’s playful teasing about my outfits, I missed my brother’s tattooed arm pushing in the heat of a video game battle, I missed my sister’s colorful finger prints on my arm after she’d slap my arm after I teased her about marrying her best guy friend...she was always painting. Most of all, I missed my dad. I missed the way he’s hug me and kiss the top of my head. It made me feel protected. It made me feel safe from monsters like Harlow Burton.

“I miss my dad.” I choked through my sobs. My eyes were blurry with tears but I still saw Harlow’s face go stony. His hold around my waist tightened tot he point where it hurt me.

“You don’t need your dad.” he seethed. I blinked at Harlow in fear. His voice would have made children cry. He was obviously angry, missing my dad had upset him. I cursed myself. Why did I have to upset Harlow when he was in such a good mood?

As always when Harlow is angry, he uses me as an outlet. Harlow grabbed a handful of my hair and held my head in one position, painfully. “You’re dad’s not a good person!” he yelled in my face. Harlow’s entire face turned red from how angry he was becoming. “He pretends to love you! He doesn’t though!” Harlow rattled my head around by my hair. Everything spun for a few seconds and pain ached though my head. “In reality, your dad hates you! He doesn’t even want you! You’re worthless to him!”

“That’s not true.” I said finding my voice again. I was not going to let Harlow make my dad into the monster. He was the real monster.

I should have kept my mouth shut because Harlow slapped me so hard that I fell of his bed and onto the hardwood floor.

“That’s what you deserve you little bitch!” Harlow screamed in my face as he hovered over me, his feet planted firmly on floor. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to! Do you understand?” He growled fiercely. Without thinking I kicked both my feet out at Harlow’s knees. He stumbled back, if it weren’t for one of his books that my falling off the bed had thrown onto the floor it wouldn’t have happened.

Harlow slid as he stumbled over the paperback book which in turn wouldn’t have sent Harlow’s body plummeting to the floor. The crack of Harlow’s head hitting the wood seemed to echo through the room. Harlow groaned in pain and I crawled slowly away from his body, the river of blood flowing from Harlow’s head soaked into the old wooden floor.

“Sunny!” Harlow reached his hand out to me. I stared it while I inched in reverse to his bedroom door. “Baby, please! Help me!” Harlow cried for me. “Please! Sunny, baby, I love you!” Still to this day, I don’t know why I did it...but I grabbed the phone from the side table and handed it Harlow. I listened while he spoke to the 911 operator.

Harlow passed out before the ambulance got to him, I hide in his closet. I listened to the men as the rushed him out of the house to get him to the hospital. There was not doubt that he’d be fine with some blood and stitches.

Once the heard the ambulance leave, I left. I went home to my family. I told them what happened to me. I left out my captor’s name. I don’t know why, but I felt that I couldn’t tell people. I felt like I couldn’t.

So you can’t say I’m crazy yet. You haven’t heard the end. Seven months later when I gave birth to my son, I named him Harlow...

Now you can say I’m crazy.