Status: Punch me now if you want...
Broken
I Want to Be Normal
I pulled out the item on top, a picture frame. I held it out for Sid to take. He studied the picture for a few moments before speaking.
“Who is this?”
“That would be Brandon.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Well, he’s my ex now. We were so happy there. We’d been together six months at that point. In fact, that photo session was his six month anniversary present to me. Something for my desk, he said.”
“What happened?”
“Everything.” I handed him the next thing in the box, a letter. Sidney read the letter carefully, then looked at me.
“He went into the military.”
“The Marine Corp actually. It was his dream, one that he’d never shared with me. In the Corp, they beat him down until he was nothing and then brought him back up to be who they wanted him to be. He was never the same. When he got home, I remember he would wake up in the middle of the night and just be standing at the foot of the bed in his pajamas and saluting thin air. He was stationed in California for a while, the same base I was born at actually. I was so proud to be a Marine’s girlfriend. I was even happier when he came home on leave and proposed to me. I thought it would never happen. We’d been together about a year when that was taken,” I said as I handed him the next picture.
“You look happy,” Sid said, with a small frown on his face.
“I was. And stupidly so.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Shortly after the proposal, he was deployed. He’d been a little harsh before he left, making snide comments about little things like my weight, or the amount of makeup I had on. I ignored it though. He worked out all the time and I just figured he wanted me to be healthy. As soon as he was deployed, I decided I was going to surprise him. In the six months he was in Afghanistan, I lost 40 pounds.” I handed him another picture, one that was obviously a before and after picture that I had edited for some social networking site.
“When he came home, he was different. I had talked to a lot of people and knew that he was probably going to have a case of PTSD and wasn’t going to be the same Brandon that I loved before. The Brandon I had sent away was loving and always cautious of my feelings. The one they sent home was mean and hurtful. Soon, it wasn’t just comments about my weight or my looks. It was a slap when I ‘did something wrong’ or a shove into a wall when I ‘argued’ with him. He would always apologize the next morning and tell me how much he loved me and how much he didn’t mean it.” Sidney was giving me an odd look. He leaned forward and dug into the box.
“What’s this,” He asked, holding out an old, bloody shirt.
“That was the first time he ever drew blood. I’d bought that shirt at the first concert I went to without my parents and couldn’t stomach throwing it out, so I kept it.”
“What happened?”
“I had gone out to see him in California. I was hanging out with him and his buddies and he thought I was paying too much attention to one of them. We got back to my hotel and he threw the lamp at the wall, breaking it. Then he slapped me so hard he knocked me over into the pile of glass on the floor. He didn’t stop after the first slap like all the other times. This time, he kept going, kept kicking and punching until he decided I’d learned my lesson.” Sid gasped, but let me continue without a true interruption.
“He took me to the hospital the next morning and told them that I’d gotten mugged. I remember wondering how the lie came so easily for him, and then I started to wonder how many other times he’d lied to me. The truth came out eventually, in court, of course, but it did come out. That was the also the first time he blamed me after a beating. ‘If only you hadn’t been flirting with Rogers, baby girl. I would never have done that if you hadn’t of deserved it.’ I had always been such a strong individual, but there I was, believing every word he shoved down my throat. I had always sworn that if I’d ever gotten into that sort of situation I would be able to escape, but I didn’t want to leave. I was slowly beginning to believe that I deserved what I was getting.” I reached into the box and grabbed the next picture frame. He was in his uniform and I was in a long, very beautiful dress that was still very modest.
“This was the Military Ball about two months after the first true beating.”
“Pretty dress,” Sid mumbled.
“Brandon picked it out. I can honestly tell you that I was miserable at this point. It had gone beyond physical abuse and had extended to him calling me fat and stupid every chance he got. I developed an eating disorder and dropped an extra 70 or 80 pounds. I saw nothing wrong with myself however, and looking back on the entire situation that is what bothers me the most. I was completely oblivious and I saw nothing wrong with changing myself for him.”
“What was the final straw?”
“The final straw? He put me in the hospital. Obviously, I’m sitting in Canada with a broken arm and a still blackened eye. Invisible to you are the six broken ribs, the deflated lung, the bruises completely covering my stomach, and the ankle sprain that healed fairly quickly.”
“He deflated your lung?”
“He broke the rib that deflated my lung.”
“What did he blame it on?”
“Funny enough, I was leaving him. I’d filed for a restraining order. I had passed out at work the day before and was told that I was malnourished and in danger of having lasting medical conditions and it opened my eyes. At this point, he’d been medically discharged from the Corp and was working on taking classes at a local community college. He came home from school and my bags were packed and loaded into my car. I told him I was going to stay with my mom and he attacked me. Lucky for me, the neighbor heard me scream and then heard a crash, which would be from him ripping a shelf off of the wall and throwing it at me, and then called the police. Because he was caught in the act and all the damage reported he was put away with no chance of parole for at least ten years.” Sid’s jaw had dropped. I shrugged and pulled out one more picture. I grinned. There I was, sitting in the hospital, arm in a cast, my leg in a sling attached to the ceiling but I was still smiling. I’d given my mother a thumbs up and she just happened to capture my moment of positivity.
“You’re very brave, Darby. I don’t think I could have come out even half as okay as you have. I admire you so much.” I blushed, a single tear dripping down my face.
“I don’t want to be brave. I want to be normal. I’m ready for all of this to heal so I can live a normal life. I want to hang out with friends; I want to fall in love with the right person this time around. I just want to be a normal 25 year old girl.”
“It’ll happen, Darby. I promise. It will happen.”
“Who is this?”
“That would be Brandon.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Well, he’s my ex now. We were so happy there. We’d been together six months at that point. In fact, that photo session was his six month anniversary present to me. Something for my desk, he said.”
“What happened?”
“Everything.” I handed him the next thing in the box, a letter. Sidney read the letter carefully, then looked at me.
“He went into the military.”
“The Marine Corp actually. It was his dream, one that he’d never shared with me. In the Corp, they beat him down until he was nothing and then brought him back up to be who they wanted him to be. He was never the same. When he got home, I remember he would wake up in the middle of the night and just be standing at the foot of the bed in his pajamas and saluting thin air. He was stationed in California for a while, the same base I was born at actually. I was so proud to be a Marine’s girlfriend. I was even happier when he came home on leave and proposed to me. I thought it would never happen. We’d been together about a year when that was taken,” I said as I handed him the next picture.
“You look happy,” Sid said, with a small frown on his face.
“I was. And stupidly so.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Shortly after the proposal, he was deployed. He’d been a little harsh before he left, making snide comments about little things like my weight, or the amount of makeup I had on. I ignored it though. He worked out all the time and I just figured he wanted me to be healthy. As soon as he was deployed, I decided I was going to surprise him. In the six months he was in Afghanistan, I lost 40 pounds.” I handed him another picture, one that was obviously a before and after picture that I had edited for some social networking site.
“When he came home, he was different. I had talked to a lot of people and knew that he was probably going to have a case of PTSD and wasn’t going to be the same Brandon that I loved before. The Brandon I had sent away was loving and always cautious of my feelings. The one they sent home was mean and hurtful. Soon, it wasn’t just comments about my weight or my looks. It was a slap when I ‘did something wrong’ or a shove into a wall when I ‘argued’ with him. He would always apologize the next morning and tell me how much he loved me and how much he didn’t mean it.” Sidney was giving me an odd look. He leaned forward and dug into the box.
“What’s this,” He asked, holding out an old, bloody shirt.
“That was the first time he ever drew blood. I’d bought that shirt at the first concert I went to without my parents and couldn’t stomach throwing it out, so I kept it.”
“What happened?”
“I had gone out to see him in California. I was hanging out with him and his buddies and he thought I was paying too much attention to one of them. We got back to my hotel and he threw the lamp at the wall, breaking it. Then he slapped me so hard he knocked me over into the pile of glass on the floor. He didn’t stop after the first slap like all the other times. This time, he kept going, kept kicking and punching until he decided I’d learned my lesson.” Sid gasped, but let me continue without a true interruption.
“He took me to the hospital the next morning and told them that I’d gotten mugged. I remember wondering how the lie came so easily for him, and then I started to wonder how many other times he’d lied to me. The truth came out eventually, in court, of course, but it did come out. That was the also the first time he blamed me after a beating. ‘If only you hadn’t been flirting with Rogers, baby girl. I would never have done that if you hadn’t of deserved it.’ I had always been such a strong individual, but there I was, believing every word he shoved down my throat. I had always sworn that if I’d ever gotten into that sort of situation I would be able to escape, but I didn’t want to leave. I was slowly beginning to believe that I deserved what I was getting.” I reached into the box and grabbed the next picture frame. He was in his uniform and I was in a long, very beautiful dress that was still very modest.
“This was the Military Ball about two months after the first true beating.”
“Pretty dress,” Sid mumbled.
“Brandon picked it out. I can honestly tell you that I was miserable at this point. It had gone beyond physical abuse and had extended to him calling me fat and stupid every chance he got. I developed an eating disorder and dropped an extra 70 or 80 pounds. I saw nothing wrong with myself however, and looking back on the entire situation that is what bothers me the most. I was completely oblivious and I saw nothing wrong with changing myself for him.”
“What was the final straw?”
“The final straw? He put me in the hospital. Obviously, I’m sitting in Canada with a broken arm and a still blackened eye. Invisible to you are the six broken ribs, the deflated lung, the bruises completely covering my stomach, and the ankle sprain that healed fairly quickly.”
“He deflated your lung?”
“He broke the rib that deflated my lung.”
“What did he blame it on?”
“Funny enough, I was leaving him. I’d filed for a restraining order. I had passed out at work the day before and was told that I was malnourished and in danger of having lasting medical conditions and it opened my eyes. At this point, he’d been medically discharged from the Corp and was working on taking classes at a local community college. He came home from school and my bags were packed and loaded into my car. I told him I was going to stay with my mom and he attacked me. Lucky for me, the neighbor heard me scream and then heard a crash, which would be from him ripping a shelf off of the wall and throwing it at me, and then called the police. Because he was caught in the act and all the damage reported he was put away with no chance of parole for at least ten years.” Sid’s jaw had dropped. I shrugged and pulled out one more picture. I grinned. There I was, sitting in the hospital, arm in a cast, my leg in a sling attached to the ceiling but I was still smiling. I’d given my mother a thumbs up and she just happened to capture my moment of positivity.
“You’re very brave, Darby. I don’t think I could have come out even half as okay as you have. I admire you so much.” I blushed, a single tear dripping down my face.
“I don’t want to be brave. I want to be normal. I’m ready for all of this to heal so I can live a normal life. I want to hang out with friends; I want to fall in love with the right person this time around. I just want to be a normal 25 year old girl.”
“It’ll happen, Darby. I promise. It will happen.”
♠ ♠ ♠
So, this all happened over the space of a couple years. Obviously. This was horrid to write. I have loads of friends in the military and to ever imagine them doing anything like this just kind of wrecks me. Which is why I'd like to point out that while we won't be getting much background on Brandon, I do feel the need to elaborate. The Military did not make him the way he became, it opened a door.And please, if you are a victim of abuse, tell SOMEONE. Escape is possible. A normal life is possible. I love you all!
<3
Andrea