Keep in mind all names have been changed.
To Start from the beginning please click the link below to go back to the “A Troubled Past” page.
I bet you’re expecting this to be some kind of confession where I claim that Chad was comparable to drugs in the fact that I couldn’t quit him. It’s not too far from the truth but alas, you would be incorrect.
My constant begging with Chad to quit smoking weed and doing cocaine seemed to be doing the trick. For a while I stayed with him purely because I knew it was the only way to keep my family and myself safe. Chad had literally written my name on a bullet and had access to some very powerful weapons. If he wanted to kill me, he certainly could without a problem and he was just smart enough to possibly get away with it (if he had been sober). My instinct for survival slowly transformed into something else. I (thought I) was seeing Chad for the first time in my life completely sober. No cigarettes, no alcohol, no weed, and no cocaine, just Chad. We had a new relationship that consisted of trust and love which of course was a nice change of pace from finding a random woman’s pink lacy thong in my bed. Even when I was suffering with eating disorders my ass was far too big for the XS piece of string. Anyway back to the “good times”…..
I was working at a popular restaurant as a waitress/manager and Chad was working for his family’s company while he and I were living together in an apartment. One very cold day right after my birthday, Chad picked me up from work and took me to see the Christmas lights in the park. I didn’t want to go, I had been working for 18 hours and my feet were swollen and sore. I bitched and moaned the whole way when suddenly he stopped, got down on one knee and pulled a rose from his coat. He had bought (with the help of his parents) a beautiful engagement ring and placed it in the center of the rose. He went on about how much he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me and all that jazz. That would be so disgustingly romantic had I not worked 18 hours, had a shower and not been standing in the freezing cold and snow. I said yes took the ring and headed to the car. I honestly thought things were looking up and that we had worked everything out, that I didn’t need to worry about him getting mean anymore because he was clean and sober now and our lives would be perfect together. hahaha boy, was I wrong!
The first part of the year went well, I went to work everyday and got a ton of overtime hours and with the money chad was making at work I knew it would be no time at all before we had everything we ever dreamed of. There were a few signs here and there that I overlooked. He had “started” smoking cigarettes again and even though I told him I could deal with it as long as he smoked outside (I smoked again too at that point but never inside). A couple times I had come home and found a butt floating in the toilet or on the incense burner. The house never smelled like smoke so I let it slide chalking it up to him coming home on his lunch break and doing what any other lazy guy would do when it’s cold outside. As time went by Chad seemed to work later and later each night. One night I had had a seizure from the stress overload at work and he wouldn’t answer the phone so, I called his mom. “Chad hasn’t worked for us in well over 2 months, Marisa. I’m sorry, I thought he told you? His dad caught him getting high on the job.” I shouldn’t have been surprised at all, but of course silly naive me, my jaw dropped. I waited for him to get home and when he did all hell broke loose. He swore up and down he had been smoking his pipe (tobacco) and his dad didn’t believe him. He didn’t tell me because he knew I would be mad but he had been working for one of his friends in construction and cleaning apartments. I wanted to trust him and believe that everything was all good, but I knew in my gut that none of his stories were adding up. I knew that I just had to deal with it, I knew Chad was a ticking time bomb and I had to bite the bullet and wait it out until I had a way out. over the next few weeks I had noticed our apartment building smelled awful, like rotten eggs or sewage. When I mentioned it to Chad he had told me the city was working on sewage lines nearby and that was the smell though he claimed to have barely noticed it and blamed it on my super-sonic smelling. His behavior began to change, he seemed more on edge and didn’t come to bed anymore he would be up playing video games when I went to bed and still in the same position when I woke up. Almost like he hadn’t moved at all. My days slowly became more and more ritualistic. I woke up, got ready and left for work (chad was usually gone) came home after work, cleaned up the messes chad had left me throughout the house, dishes, video games, controllers, random food on the counters…etc. I swear the neighbors that lived beneath us probably hated me and my vacuum more than anything else in the world. I am a cleaning fanatic and well, Chad’s random strips and balls of foil strewn about the house was enough to drive me insane. I remained completely unaware of what the foil was being used for, I knew you could make little makeshift pipes out of it for smoking weed but other than that I was clueless. Another month of this went by before Chad came home and broke down in tears. “I’m going to jail,” he said. I wasn’t entirely shocked I knew that a while back he had gotten caught stealing while we were on a “break” and he was on probation. He told me that he had a random drug test and that he had smoked weed a couple nights ago to try and go to sleep. While I was pissed I tried to remain calm, I told him one of our friends tested positive for weed a while back and they had only gotten a warning. Chad jumped up and grabbed my arms and started to shake me. “YOU STUPID B**** IT WASN’T JUST WEED OK? I’M GOING TO JAIL FOR A LONG TIME!” My heart stopped. I stayed as calm as I could hoping this wouldn’t escalate I was far too tired to fight him tonight and black eyes don’t suit when you work with the public. “METH OKAY?!?! HOW NAIVE ARE YOU!?! THE PLACE REEKS! THERE’S FOIL EVERY WHERE, I DON’T SLEEP AND I MAKE MORE MONEY THAN I EVER DID AT MY PARENTS SHOP! GOD YOU ARE SO STUPID YOU MAKE ME SICK!” Then as if to add dramatic effect he turned into the bathroom and puked uncontrollably while I grabbed my purse, work clothes and car keys and bolted out the door. I knew if I went to my moms, my grandmas or my sister’s he would find me so I circled around a couple different neighboring towns before I stopped at my friend, Bailey’s house. I knew it was safe. I worked with her, her building had security and I made sure they didn’t allow anyone up without calling first. He didn’t know her that well let alone where she lived and I had parked in her parking space under a car port but he could have followed me. Nothing surprised me anymore. I called my grandparents, my mom and my sister to make sure their doors were locked and to not answer the door for Chad. It didn’t take much convincing due to the fact that they all hated him. Bailey was my manager at the restaurant and she said if I didn’t feel up to working I could stay at her place or she could drop me off with family before work to avoid Chad seeing my car out and about. However, If I did want to go to work, she had devised a plan for that as well, I would ride to work with her and switch jobs with her, she would take my place on the floor and I could stay behind the scenes doing food count and office work. She would alert the authorities that one of her workers was in danger and that we needed assistance if he should show up. None of that was necessary though. At about 2 am I received a phone call from chad, I debated not answering but knew there was really no point he would continue to call until I did. His immediate reaction was to ask me where in the F*** I was. I Replied with a calm but clipped, “What do you want, Chad?”
“I WANT TO KNOW WHERE MY F***ING WIFE IS!”
“I’m not your wife chad,” I said, “what do you want?”
“F*** YOU! F*** THE RING AND EVERYTHING ELSE!! F*** YOU BITCH!”
“Alright, is that all?”
“GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW!”
“No, Chad, I’m staying here tonight.” I remained as calm as possible because that was the only way to deal with his rage. Otherwise he would just get worse and worse, by pretending that I wasn’t worked up or angry at him, he saw me as weak, he thought he could bully me into waltzing back into his web of abuse, when that didn’t work he would start the waterworks and the “I love yous” and “I will kill myself if you don’t come home” Bullshit he used to throw at me.
“Marisa, I took a tranquilizer and I don’t feel so good.” He had calmed down at this point and he sounded drugged, but Chad was a good actor. “Please come…” There was a pause in his whining followed by sounds of him vomiting again. “Please just come home I think I’m dying.”
I swallowed hard, I knew he could be telling the truth but I stood my ground a little while longer. “No, Chad, you are not dying I will stay here on the phone with you until you fall asleep.”
“I’M F***ING DYING AND YOU’LL STAY ON THE PHONE? SERIOUSLY? YOU WANT ME TO DIE!!!” He was yelling but it was coming out as a slurred whisper-yelling mess. I knew he had actually taken something and he could very well be dying on our couch right now.
“Shhhhh Chad, calm down I’m coming.”
When I walked in the door of our apartment the putrid smell of vomit made me gag. Everything in the apartment was overturned and broken Chad was sprawled out on the floor of the kitchen, pale and drooling. I touched his face. He was cold but still breathing his heart was still beating, he opened his eyes and for a second there was only white as he fought to roll them forward to look at me. “I’m sorry,” he said “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hurt my mom, and I hurt my sister really bad.”
I could feel my blood run cold. When Chad and I were on a “break” His younger sister told me he had molested her when they were younger and that she was in therapy. Chad had claimed over and over again that his sister was in therapy for a psychological condition in which she fabricates stories and lies constantly. I didn’t believe him, but I had pushed the thought from my memory. Until now.
I bent down next to him and whispered “your sister’s stories were true? You did that to her?”
He nodded his head while tears streamed down his face “yeah, I really hurt her…”
I stood up and looked down at this vile disgusting shell of a man before me. He was a drug addict, abusive, manipulative, controlling and now a child molester. I had to fight once again to hold back my own vomit while I struggled with the fact that he had touched me with the same hands he had used to touch his sister. He looked up at me completely unable to move, his breathing rapidly decreasing. The “right thing” would have been to call the police, an ambulance, or his family, but I wasn’t the “right thing” kind of person when it came to abusing children. I picked up his phone off the floor, turned it off and placed it on the counter out of his reach then turned and walked out of the apartment locking the door behind me.
A part of me wished he would die he did it to himself, I didn’t kill him, I just didn’t save him. The other part of me figured if he did make it through the night he would still end up in the hospital and then in jail away from me, his sister and anyone else he could hurt. I made up my mind that in order to clear my name I would call him in the morning to check on him then, when there was no answer I would call the police and tell them I’m afraid he did something stupid after our fight. Play innocent, play dumb.
And that’s exactly what I did.