It was June, it was very hot, and Brad was really ramping up his anger about sex. For the rest of the year more than half our arguments were about sex; including this one, the single worst incident of our marriage.
It started because I had planned to take the next Friday off and he asked if we could have sex three times that day. I brought up that he had said he would ‘back down’ on the sex because he wanted me to want it as well. He got mad right away and would not accept any of my apologies because I had apparently agreed not to bring up the fact that he had agreed to back down on the sex. (I made a lot of agreements to get him to stop arguing and there is no way I could remember them all, nor could he. I’m sure he made up a lot of my agreements after the fact. ) He made me apologize eight or nine times and still wouldn’t accept it. He threatened to hit me, would not let me leave the room and called me a c**t and a b***h. He put his hands around my throat. He would not give up fighting, he told me I was a terrible lover and no one would want me. It obviously did not occur to him that simultaneously asking for sex three times in one day while telling me I am a terrible lover are at odds with each other.
The next morning June 18th it continued while I was trying to get ready for work. I apologized again but when I did not offer sex that morning, he got mad and it started all over again. He threw me on the bed, pushed me down to keep me there so he could rant and rave. He shouted and yelled “f**k off” to Cassie and made her cry. I was heartbroken as I left for work.
I had texted him earlier in the day, not sure what about, but just as I was leaving work he called to say he did not understand my text. From what I remember and the lack of entries in my journal during that day, I think it had been radio silence on his part. He did that sometimes after a bad fight - he’d go to one extreme or the other. Constantly calling or no contact whatsoever, in either case he was often drinking. As I was driving home that evening he was very mean on the phone, told me he would kill me, and told me not to come home if I was not going to make him feel ‘special’ when I got home. I went to get the kids at daycare and was very unsure of what was waiting for me at home.
When I drove up he came menacingly out to the car and when I got out with my computer and purse, he shoved me out in front of the house. When I went inside to put my stuff down he got worse. The kids were still in the hot car without air conditioning. He shoved me when I got inside. He was so angry already that I tried to call 911, but he threw the phone across the room to keep me from calling. He strangled me really hard, as hard as he ever had, and I was truly terrified. He then wrestled me to the ground, twisting my knee and sat on me and would not let me get up, he was ranting and raving and said we would not get divorced, he would kill me first. He would not go get kids out of car and would not let me do it. I was screaming at him to let me get the kids before they died in the heat and he finally let me get Luke inside. I took my cell phone and tried to call Brad’s best friend. I went outside to the car with Cassie in it and tried to drive away, but he ran out and pounded on the door and opened it up. He took my cell phone and threatened to throw it on the roof.
Finally I got Cassie inside as well, and later that evening he said he would kill himself in 30 days and it would be all over if I just agreed to ‘make him feel special’ for those 30 days. So his plan was I would make him feel ‘special’ for 30 days as his dying wish of sorts, and then he would kill himself. Of course, I did not agree, so he backed it off to five days. I still would not agree. We had company coming the next day, so I stayed.
Because of this violence, my knee hurt for a week and it hurt to swallow for almost two weeks. He did seem a bit ‘better’ for a couple of days after this, like maybe he realized he had crossed a line and even apologized a few days later when I winced with my knee getting out of the car. But he couldn’t hang on to it. A few months later when I brought it up, he did not remember it. Probably because, to him, it blurred with all of the other incidents. To me, however, was quite a different story. I still vividly remember it and I never felt the same about him after that. I completely quit trying to make it work and was really just biding time until I could work up the nerve to leave. I could never forgive him, he almost killed me. Any other person who had done that to me would be in jail, and still, it took me eight more months to leave.