Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Behind Closed Doors - story of the escape from a lifetime of abuse Part 2

A  Woodlands resident’s story of abuse continued…., part 2the first summer
For the first summer, I went to work for an insurance company in Houston. I rented my own apartment, bought my own car and felt so incredibly independent. Most of all, I separated myself from that ever-present pain. I was free. But this was only a brief respite.
My boss, who was thirty-five, took a liking to me. I was eighteen. We began “dating”, or at least I thought that was what we were doing. He was a Michael Douglas look-a-like. I was mesmerized that someone so good looking and successful wanted to enjoy my company. I could hardly believe he was interested in me, which should have been a warning sign.
He tried to advance me at work. He registered me for an insurance class to be held at a local high school. The day I went to turn in my paperwork for registration, there was a note on the bungalow out back stating the office staff was out to lunch. I decided just to wait for their return. Three young men, not students, were walking in the back area of the campus near the bungalow where I sat perched, waiting for them to return.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the three men approaching me. I got a very uneasy feeling. They began to taunt me, speaking in both English and Spanish. They picked at me, and then rough-handled me. That afternoon I was gang-raped in broad daylight and left catatonic and naked as the young men fled. Pain and abuse had followed me from my childhood. I found myself now thinking that I was never going to be free of them. They were following me everywhere I went!
After collecting my clothes and searching for a pay phone, I called my boss to come rescue me. He seemed legitimately upset. Hanging up the phone, I remember thinking - I am so blessed to have him. I waited for him to show up, which he did in quick order. He took me to his house where I showered while he made me some instant chicken noodle soup. I remember sitting on a bar stool, wrapped in a towel partaking of that soup, feeling warm and nurtured. He came around the bar from the kitchen, kissed me and then jerked off my towel. He raped me right there on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he slipped on his shoes, threw down a $20 and told me he was going grocery shopping. “Be gone when I get back!”
I called a cab.
Being that pain, abuse and sheer ugliness were the norms in my life, I actually went to work the next day. I said good morning to my boss and got him his coffee. He was stupefied to see me. At lunch that day, I walked off my job to never return.
To be continued ….

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