Part Three: Opening the Door

Glass Houses

What?
What did you say?
SHOUT!
Tell me AGAIN!
I guess I can ‘t hear you.
Will you teach me
the way?
I don ‘t understand.
Please make me listen.
I surely won‘t
mind you
If I can‘t hear
your voice.
SHOUT!
At me
Show me
the back of your hand.
Grab me
by my hair.
Drag me around.
Okay,
now I hear you.
I think I see
the way.
Am I black yet?
Am I blue?
Did I learn
my lesson?
I deserved that,
I know.
Rant, rave,
Yell at me.
Now I see the look
in your eye.
Next time I ‘;ll mind you.
The next time I ‘;ll listen.
But I won‘t throw stones
at your pretty glass house.







THE VOID


Do not hit me again
I hurt
Do not beat me again
I ache
I ache on the inside
Not just outwardly
I ache to be held
To be needed
To be loved
The need is so deep
That I take what you give
In a desperate attempt
To fill up
The void


Part Three: Opening the Door

Breaking Away


Was it Easter? It seems like that should be a happier time of year. Like the memories of Easter should be pleasant, joyful. But no. Not these. These dark recollections of past events are anything but happy. Though, as I look back on it now I can see how this Easter was the turning point in my life. It is the marker that separates the world I lived in then and the world I have subsequently created for myself. It is the dividing wall between the frightened little girl, ready to do as she was told, no matter what the cost, and a powerful magickal woman. That Easter as well, though it brings with it a slew of horrifying flash-back type memories was the day on which my darling little girl was conceived. Ironic, yes that out of such darkness can emerge such a beautiful loving child. But as terrifying as that chapter of my life really was, the fact that out of the pit of blackness and despair grew my two darling babies sends me into a state of awe at the wonder of the Universe.

Just thinking back on it now is enough to give me nightmares even after all this time. Although it has been almost seven years since that particular Easter I can recall the events as if it were yesterday. I remember lying in bed unable to sleep, fearful that the moment I did, Myron would come banging on the door. Many times I had been too slow to answer the door only to find it already smashed by the time I had sprinted to open it. I was determined not to let that happen this time. This time I was going to open the door before he had a chance to smash it open. I had entertained the thought of leaving the door unlocked, but with a 10 month old baby in the house, that didn’t seem like a safe alternative.

I remember watching Jakob as he slept so soundly beside me. He had a crib in his own bedroom across the hall, but we seldom used it. As a breastfeeding mother I found it so much easier to have him sleep with me. The 2 am feedings were so much easier when I didn’t have to get up and walk to his room and we could both go right back to sleep after the feeding.
Aside form the convenience of the sleeping arrangements, there was something comforting about having my new baby boy sleeping so close to me. This particular night, however, I wished I had left Jakob in the crib in his own bedroom. When I heard the sound of the glass in our back door shatter, Jake must have heard it too. For he woke up with a start almost as soon as I did. I don’t know if it was the smashing glass and the sound of the wood cracking that frightened him or hearing his father roar, but something had upset him. So much so in fact that a baby that hardly ever cried was sobbing and nearly screaming.


I was torn between wanting to console my baby boy and knowing that I must go unlock the door and let Myron in. I was sure he wouldn’t stop smashing on the door until he got inside and wanted to save our house from the damages. I also knew that the longer it took me to get to the door, the angrier Myron would be. So I left Jakob alone in his little bed for a moment so I could open the door for his Daddy.

After I let Myron in, I immediately went back to the bedroom, to console little Jakob. My husband followed me quietly all the way, which relieved me immensely. I had expected him to be fuming mad at being locked out. I was fully prepared to get an earful and perhaps even a smack or a shove.

When I got to Jake he was still crying and I tried my best to calm him down. This must have upset Myron, because the instant he heard Jakes cries he went off. He began shouting at me to “Shut the kid up, Lor!”
And continued with absurd accusations.
“What did you shake him to make him cry?”
“You’re tryin’ to piss me off you fuckin cunt? I knew it! You pinched the kid! You made him cry!”

I tried to ignore Myron’s insane rantings so I could nurse Jakob calmly. I knew that Myron would keep accusing me until Jakob quieted. And I was right. It didn’t make any sense to me why I would want to pinch my own baby to make him cry. Or why I would deliberately try to upset Myron. This was exactly the opposite of what I was trying to do. Of what I mostly tried to do. Walking on eggshells and looking the other way, biting my tongue and apologizing for things that were not my fault had become second nature to me during that period of my life.
Just when I thought everything was okay, Jakob was relaxing and Myron had stopped yelling, he would start up again. “Quit shaking the kid, Bitch!” He ordered. “If you don’t shut him up, I’m gonna throw you both through that plate glass window” gesturing toward our bedroom window. “How would ya like that, Lor?” I didn’t answer Myron’s insane accusation and threat. Instead I sighed, then held my breath and silently prayed for something to calm my husband down.
For a moment it seemed my prayers had been answered. Jakob had fallen into a peaceful sleep so I carefully moved him into his little bed.

And Myron too had appeared to have passed out. Relieved, I carefully, quietly rolled over and out of the bed so as not to wake either Myron or sleeping Jakob. I had to go to the bathroom terribly.

I finished my business without flushing the toilet or replacing the empty toilet paper roll for fear the noise would wake Myron up. As quietly as I could I turned the squeaky doorknob and slowly ever so slowly opened the creaky bathroom door.
“Thought you could get away eh, bitch?” Myron laughed menacingly.
Silently, I shook my head as he slammed to bathroom door behind us both, locking me in the bathroom with him. “I gotta shit” he informed me.
With that, I turned to let myself out of the bathroom. Though Myron had already taken his pants down, he flew across the bathroom and slammed the door shut again. “You’re not going anywhere. What do you want to go pinch the kid and make him cry again? You can stay here with me”
I tried to protest “Myron, I am tired. I just want to go back to bed.” I pleaded weakly.
“Aren’t you my wife?” he questioned. “Don’t you belong with your husband?”
Confused and frightened I agreed “Yeah, I am your wife”
“Well then you can stay in here with your husband; where you belong.”
And so, as usual when Myron got forceful, I did as he told me to do. It was so much easier than arguing with him. And it was certainly so very much safer.

So I stood there, silent in the bathroom while Myron sat on the toilet, reading the paper. It wasn’t until he was ready to use the toilet paper that I realized that I had neglected to put a new roll on the holder.
As quickly as I could, I opened the bathroom closet and got a new roll out and handed it to Myron. I mistakenly thought he would be grateful or perhaps pleased at my efforts. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Without using the toilet paper I offered, he threw it into the bathtub. “Was that supposed to be funny? Nothing to wipe my ass with. Ha! Ha! Yeah, Myron’s shitting and there’s no ass wipe! Fuck you, Bitch!” he hollered.
“Myron, I got you some…” I whispered an attempt to defend myself. It was cut short by and arm across the chest. Myron threw me up against the door, still ranting. “What kind of a wife hides the toilet paper so her old man can’t wipe his ass?”
Terrified that Myron was going to hit me, I started to sob. “I am sorry, Myron. I didn’t mean to… “
Cut off again “I need a joint. Where’s my weed?”
I honestly did not know, but racked my brain trying to remember where I had seen him last stash his marijuana. But I couldn’t come up with anything. So I stuttered again softly “I, I’m not sure Myron”
“Yeah you probably hid that too, eh?”
With that he flung open the bathroom door and grabbed me by the arm. “Looks like I’ll jut have to pick some more. Come on, bitch!”

So, Myron dragged me by one arm and my hair to Jakob’s bedroom. He had a few small marijuana plants growing in the closet of Jakob’s room. When he opened the door to Jakob’s room, the light from the closet was clearly visible. “What? You didn’t turn the lights off like I told ya to?” He grilled me.
“Oh my God!” I thought. I had been so busy with Jakob and Easter that I had forgotten all about the plants. The lights were supposed to be turned off at 10 pm, but I had been sleeping. And I had forgotten to turn them off when I woke up. Now I knew he was going to be even angrier than he already was.

“You fuckin’ cunt!” he roared. You trying to get me busted? All the neighbours can see the light through the curtains. Now I’m gonna have to cut them all down. Where’s the scissors?”
Speedily I searched the closet for the scissors so that Myron could cut down his plants. Finally I found them lying underneath one of the empty pots, but before I could hand them to Myron, fluorescent lights had begun to smash. Broken glass was flying everywhere and I was grateful that little Jakob wasn’t sleeping in his bedroom.
After handing Myron the scissors, I tried to leave the room. I was going to get the broom and dustpan and begin cleaning up the glass. Grabbing me by the hair on the back of my neck, Myron, growled as he stared deep into my watery eyes, “I told you Bitch! You aren’t going Any Where!” For emphasis he clenched the scissors and shook them at me. I flinched a bit and jumped away. This apparently amused Myron because he laughed at me “ya scared, Lor? Does that scare you? Ha ha ha!”

And then he raised his arm as if to hit me, but instead stabbed the scissors into the headboard of Jakob’s crib. Again and again and again, he stabbed tiny holes in Jakob’s wooden crib. Standing there, in shock, my mind was reeling. What if…? What if…? What if…?
What if Jakob had not been sleeping with me that night? What if? What if his crib wasn’t empty?
And so, silently as I stood there watching Myron in his slow motion madness, stabbing the crib over and over again, looking for a reaction that I was unable to give, I made myself and Jakob a solemn promise. I vowed that this would be the last night that Jakob and I would ever spend with his daddy.

The deep serenity I felt while making the vow was quickly shattered by Jakob's little cries. Something, either the light smashing, doors slamming, Myron yelling, or the crib being hacked at had woken him up. That was my cue to leave. The one sure way to put Jakob back to sleep was to breastfeed him. Truth be told, somehow that usually calmed me down as well. This particular night I could use a
little calming down.

Jake and I had a few quiet moments alone before Myron joined us. I
had hoped that I could just go to sleep with Jakob and get that
night over with. Myron had other plans, though. He climbed into
bed with Jakob and me before I could get my little baby back to
sleep. Myron however seemed to want my undivided attention.
"You better not cross me, Lor" he warned. Although his warning was
grave and malicious, I had no idea what he was talking about. This
wasn't unusual though. Myron often talked gibberish and nonsense to
me and to other people too. There were times when, if we were out
visiting and Myron had been drinking, I would have to translate what
Myron was saying into language that could be understood by the other
party. This time, though, I kept quiet, hoping he would just go to
sleep. Hoping that we could all get some rest.

The fact that I didn't answer Myron did not seem to bother him. He
kept right on bantering. "I said you better not cross me, you
fuckin bitch. Or you'll be sorry!"

The truth was I was already sorry. So very sorry. Myron made me sorry
every day that I had ever dated him, ever lived with him and sorry that I ever
said “I do”.

"I said if you cross me again, Lor I'll fuckin' kill ya! Got it?"
and with that he grabbed me by the hair on the back of my neck and
gave it a jerk. I tensed up and jerked involuntarily just a bit
which caused Jake to startle somewhat. I was hoping against hope
that Jakob wouldn't wake up. It was getting close to three in the
morning and my baby needed his sleep. Not to mention, if Jakob were
to wake up again it would certainly start Myron off on another
raving spell over how I had deliberately made Jakob cry just to piss Myron off. Thankfully, Jakob just opened his eyes for a moment cooed a little coo and continued suckling.

"Take off your pants." My husband ordered. I thought that if I pretended to be asleep I wouldn't be forced into something I didn't want to do.
"Didn't you hear me, Lor? I SAID take off your pants. I wanna fuck ya." It was apparent that my plan to pretend I was asleep was not going to work. Myron was already working on trying to get my pajama
pants down. The last thing I wanted to do while I was breastfeeding
my baby was to have his hands on me. Groping at me, demanding. But
I knew from past experience that if I didn't give Myron exactly what
he wanted when he wanted it, sex included, he would get violent.

The first time I ever told him I didn't feel like having sex he jumped up out of bed, threw the lamp across the room, dumped the dresser over and punched a hole in the wall.
The whole time hollering accusations at me. "Who ya fuckin' Lor? You must be fuckin
someone else if ya don't wanna fuck me!"

So, desperately wanting to avoid a repeat of that situation, I
rolled towards Myron and helped him with my pants. In the back of
my mind I was thinking ahead to after the union. Perhaps he would
finally go to sleep. Myron had been home for three or four hours by
this time and I was feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted.
But, to my dismay, when the act was finally over, Myron did not roll
over and go to sleep. Instead he started ranting again. I was
beginning to get the impression that he was not merely drunk. His
mood swings and aggression seemed to be indicative of something a
lot harder than alcohol. I suspected that he had probably been
smoking crack or something like it.

"Where'd ya put my smokes?" he inquired ridiculously. Why would I
have his cigarettes? I thought to myself. When I didn't answer he
asked again. So I began to explain that I did not have his
cigarettes "Myron, I don't know where they are." I answered
"Fuck you, Lor. I left them right here. Now they're gone" he said
gesturing towards the night table.
Confused, I tried to explain that this wasn't true. I hadn't seen
any cigarettes since he had been home. I had assumed he smoked them
all while he was out, which he often did. "Shut the fuck up. Lor.
Did I ask you to talk?" he bellowed.

"uh…" I tried to protest but was stopped short by a forearm over my
mouth. "Shut the fuck up or I'll kill ya" Myron growled . If I had
wanted to speak I wouldn't have been able to as I could barely
breathe with his arm over my entire face. He finally removed his arm
so I could breathe but my relief was quickly overshadowed. The
instant he did that he climbed back on top of me. I cringed at the
thought of what was in store for me again. This time though,
instead of trying to force himself on me he began biting me. With
what seemed like the force of his entire jaw he bit me again and
again on my left shoulder. The pain was excruciating but I didn't
scream or cry or protest. I silently took his torture, afraid to
make a sound. I was partly afraid that if I made any noise it would
wake up the baby and I so badly did not want to subject Jakob to
this abuse once again. And I was partly truly afraid that Myron
really would kill me if I made a sound. Over and over again he bit
me, like a dog chewing on a bone. Each time daring me "if ya cry,
Lor, I'll kill ya".

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of biting and threatening me,
Myron remembered he needed a smoke. It was 4:30 am when Myron left
the bedroom to search for a cigarette. At first I didn't move an
inch. I just lay there quietly in shock, cuddling my baby.


Though, I soon realized that I still, after all these hours, had not gone
to the bathroom. As nervous as I was that Myron would be furious if
I got up, I had to relieve myself. As quietly as I could, I tiptoed
across the bedroom, and slowly opened the door. The sound pf that
door creaking seemed to be amplified a thousand times. Still I
hoped Myron wouldn't hear it. Perhaps he'd be downstairs or maybe
passed out on the couch. But once I finally got the door open
enough to get out, I saw where Myron actually was. He was leaned up
against the wall in the hallway with a smirk on his face. "Where
the fuck do you think you're goin'? I thought I told you you're not
leaving this room." He reminded me. "but Myron I have to go pee" I
whispered quietly.

"Get back in that room before I kill ya Lor"
And so I did. At that moment I honestly believed that he could and
would kill me if I didn't do exactly what he wanted to me to do. And I
tried not to think of what would happen to Jakob afterward.
On my way back to the bed Myron helped me along by shoving me onto
the bed where I laid motionless for what seemed like forever. I was
very careful not to move a muscle because each time I did Myron
would threaten "I'll fuckin kill ya, Lor. I will. I ain't scared."
For the next hour and a half or two hours I lay there as still as I
could, not making any noise, just listening to the sound of Myron's
breathing. When finally his breathing slowed down and it was
apparent he was asleep, I let out a sigh of relief.
Frightened beyond belief and worried about the safety of my son, I wanted
nothing more than to get out of that room, that house and never ever
go back. But I was immobilized with fear. I could not move until I was sure
he was soundly asleep. Until I was positive he would not wake up.
My life and the life of my son depended on it.

It was nearly getting light out when I decided it was time to make
my move. Carefully, ever so carefully I put my arm under Jakob and
scooped him up. As quickly and quietly as I could I tiptoed into
Jakob's bedroom and set him down in his crib. Careful to place him
at the end opposite where Myron had been stabbing. As swiftly as I
could I went to the kitchen to get a garbage bag to put our things
in. On my way back I grabbed my purse off the counter and slung it
over my shoulder. As frightened as I was, I was possessed by a new
kind of calm as I knew this was what I had to do to save our lives.
When I got back to Jake's room I emptied his dresser drawers and
filled the garbage bag with as much baby clothes as would fit.
Without a second thought I dressed my baby up in his hat, coat and
booties, and put on my sweater and shoes and headed out the door.
Within minutes Jakob and I were running down our street to my
friend's house a block and a half away, stroller, garbage bag and
all.






Shaking spitting twisting turning trying to get away from
The wrath anger confusion passion no compassion
Held captive enslaved hostage a slave
Prisoner in this abode the room spinning
Struggling pleading begging convincing?
Commanding quietly demanding whispering freedom
Strong arm fore arm arm-bar holds me keeps me pushes me away
Darkness shadow stillness calm breathing heavy breathing quiets sleep
Tip-toeing cautiously light footed sure footed
Crying baby, baby crying shh baby shhh
Almost gone away vanishing disappeared not here anymore
Heart pounding feet pounding blood rushing
Mind racing legs racing breaking free
Out of the cage trap snare confinement impound
Close the gate lock it fasten padlock deadbolt deadlock
Gas! Match lit spark sulphur WHOOSH!
Flame fire blazing roaring swallowing engulfing awakening
Warms my face hands cold heart
Flames subside ebb silence embers ashes dust a memory
Run! Quickened pace slows relaxes unwinds rest saunter stroll
Untie the rope bondage throw down shackles cuffs chains
Don’t look back turn around reverse revert regress progress breathe










Cold, cold Christmas


Do you think
That if I left
You wouldn’t come after me?
Do you suppose
That if I walked out
You’d let me leave in Peace?
Or do you believe
As I do
That you’d come running after me
Chasing me
With your gun in hand
Hunting me down
Like your prey
A wounded animal
I am not,
But I behave as one
For as long
As I allow you
To treat me as such






A House In Ruins

I had been at home alone with the kids most of the day. Cassidee was only a couple of months old and the three of us, Jakob Cassidee and I were living in a cute little two bedroom house in a small country town called Vernon. My mom was living in Vernon at that time as well. During nearly the entire time I was pregnant with Cassidee Jake and I had lived with my Mom in a small two bedroom apartment. We had gotten our own place around Christmas. Myron wasn’t living with the kids and I, but made himself at home whenever he felt like it.

On this particular day I had that old feeling again. I knew in my gut that he was about to explode. Myron had been out drinking that day and had stopped by my house once in the afternoon heavily intoxicated. I decided then that I didn’t want to be home, should Myron decide to pay us a visit later, after his drinking binge was over.

After a short visit with Jakob and checking to see what kind of booze I had in my fridge, Myron took a bottle of wine I had been saving for a special occasion, downed the entire bottle and left. Fearing the worst and knowing to trust that feeling in the pit of my stomach, I immediately called my mom and asked her to come get Jakob and I. I did not feel safe with Jakob only a toddler and Cass still a newborn being left in the house with a drunk, should he return. We made plans to spend the night at my Mother’s house, just to be on the safe side. I was having that eerie foreboding feeling again and had learned to always listen to my gut.

Mom came and picked us up shortly thereafter and we spent the afternoon quietly, the four of us. I had nearly forgotten why I was there, to keep us safe should Myron come back to our house drunk. Except for a few mildly threatening phone calls from Myron, angry that he had gone to out house and we weren’t home, angry at his loss of control at not knowing where we had gone, the evening was pleasant, comfortable, a welcome change of pace from the weeks preceding.

We all went to bed early slightly exhausted from the events of the day and slept soundly, feeling safe until we were awakened by the sound of the telephone. I stayed in bed, while I listened to my Mom answer the phone “hello… who is this?

Myron she’s sleeping. I won’t wake her up!” And with that she hung up the phone. Myron called several more times after that, each time my mom explained she wasn’t going to wake me up. Finally I got out of bed, unable to sleep, wondering what he was doing, where he was and if he was going to show up at the door. Mom got up too and we talked for a while. Myron, in his drunken stupor had phoned to find out where we were. “Where’s my Wife? Where’s my wife?”