When I wrote this short story a few months back I'd been enraptured with the horrid nature of domestic abuse. Mainly against men, and how often it got brushed to the side. I don't think I did a great job of capturing those struggles, but it's a story nonetheless and I thought y'all might like it.
I sat next to one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen. Amy. Some girl that’d I never even met before introduced me to her, turns out she was one the sweetest girls I’d ever meet. Super funny, great personality, our interest weren’t to different, and we got along really well. I went on several dates with her after that night, and eventually we made it official, we were a couple. It was nice for a while, she introduced me to a lot of her friends, they all seemed a little weirded out by me but I’m not surprised.
Amy never really talked about herself, a least not her past. We eventually moved in with each other, and I got to meet her parents, and they were okay. Her father was a very grumpy old man, he dressed well but his scent gave away the fact that he was obviously a smoker. Her mother on the other hand was very soft spoken and even sat down with me to have a conversation about my careers. Amy’s relationship with me wasn’t perfect, we didn’t agree on things, and we fought occasionally, but I thought to myself that any healthy couple had arguments. Then it hit me. Well, she hit me.
I’m still not sure what I did that night but she was upset. Yelling, tears, swearing. Then she got violent, throwing punches, hitting the walls. I tried to stop her, she was damaging herself more than me at the time, but I couldn’t do much. So I just left our apartment. I stayed at a friend’s house, after explained the situation to him but he didn’t seem bothered by it. The next morning I returned home and found her sitting in the living room with a pair of scissors.
I ended up having to get stitches along my right forearm, because despite my best efforts to calm her down she swung at me and didn’t miss. I didn’t want to give up on her, especially considering all the time we’d spent together, I couldn’t throw it away. She called me up that night, and threatened to kill herself if I didn’t come back. That’s when it clicked with me that this was serious.
I called the police, and even though I explained it thoroughly to them they felt no need to take action as I wasn’t under physical threat. And as much as I wanted to leave, I wouldn’t let her do that to herself. I called up her few friends and tried to tell them what had been happening. I’m not sure what I had expected the response to be but after that night I’d been called every name in the book. My reputation was in ruins, everyone I knew had been told I was abusive, a cheater, deserving of the emotion suffering I felt. I felt trapped, with no real answer. I decided that it was out of my control, because even though Amy put the gun in my hands she was the one who would’ve pulled the trigger.
I left town, and I never turned back.