My Husband Killed Me

8 Min Read

I will start by saying to all the people in my life, “I am sorry!”

I thought he loved me, some of you knew that I was wrong, but I really thought he did.

Fifteen years; next month we would have celebrated our fifteenth wedding anniversary. Two months ago he told me he was filing for divorce. Twenty days ago he locked me out of our home.

It was soon to be Easter, everyone making plans to be with their loved ones. He was driving to Conroe every weekend. His granddaughter was expecting her second child. They had just gotten their own home and were very excited. He bought them a washer and dryer, even though we still were using a laundry mat. He bought them a lawn mower, we don’t even have one. Our grass is as tall as our privacy fence.

When we married he already had grown children from his first marriage. Brad is twenty years older than me, so some of his kids are my age. Add my three girls, the youngest only six at the time, and we had ourselves a Brady Bunch family. Not the happy one you watched growing up. I was constantly trying to protect him, his bunch tend to struggle with honesty. Brad has a good heart, but year after year the kids put us through hell.

When his oldest daughter was a teenager she had a son, couldn’t take care of him and gave him away. Then she got married and moved to New York. Three kids and two grandkids later, she took the two youngest, left her husband and moved back to Texas.

We all pitched in to help. She had a furnished apartment, a car, and a job. A few months go by, and my husband calls me to meet him at her apartment. Her husbands comes to drive them back to New York.

It was a hard night all around. Missy sat next to me on the sofa, I rubbed her back to tried and calm her. She refused to go back with them. My husband and son in law kept yelling. His daughter Taffy kept saying how great her husband was. The following morning Missy left her daughter and returned to New York.

Missy is the pregnant one living in Conroe. Her mother, Taffy, whom abandoned her, missed her wedding, and the birth of her first kid, wants to, suddenly, be here for the next one. And here is the best part, Taffy is dying. She flies down here with no money and divorce papers to sign.

Taffy is a diabetic and in need of a kidney transplant. She gets Dialysis three times a week, but it doesn’t look very promising.

On Easter my best friend was in the hospital, so I went to be with her. My husband went to Conroe. Mother’s day I am blessed to have spent with my two youngest at their home. He was off to get Taffy at the airport. She’s going to be staying with Missy until the baby is born. Then, three weeks later she will be flying back to New York.

The weekend after Mothers day I drive to my oldest daughters home to spend the weekend with them. The past few months, my husband has hurt my heart so many times, I need a happy getaway. Brad claims to be this great “Man of God,” but we read the same bible. And the bible is not in favor of Brads behavior towards me. The past two months I have felt my husband is confused about this. My oldest claims it’s abuse.

“Brad has never hit me,” I say in defense.

“Abuse is more than broken bones and bruises,” she tells me.

Brad has a chemical imbalance and takes pills every night, at ten on the dot. If he misses one, he is a scary madman for three days. My girls can attest to this, having lived with him for so many years. His sister in Vegas got a dose when he went to visit her. He spent a couple weeks with her awhile back and missed his pill one night. They locked the bedroom doors every night in fear of him.

My puppy and I get back in to town the morning after a very restful reprieve. I pull in the driveway and step out to unlock the gate, it has a new lock on it. I call my husband in confusion.

“Brad you have a new lock on the gate, how do I get in?”

“You don’t” he tells me.

“Taffy has gotten worse, I put money in your account for a hotel and I am going to take care of her.”

Say what! What kind of man locks his wife out, to take care of his daughter.

Hurt and angry, I go find a hotel to figure this madness out. I search to find one nearby that allows pets. I book it for a week and know how blessed I am to find one for a week in the summer.

Brad and I meet while Taffy is in treatment. We talk and cry and he says for me to be patient and strong for him. This goes on for a second week.

People think I am crazy and should go to the police, he can’t lock you out of your home they say. I love him and he loves me I tell them, I can stay strong for him, this makes me a good wife.

Brad and I made a deal for him to text me every day so I know he’s okay. We met five days ago and kissed and hugged, oh how I miss seeing him every day. I miss sleeping in our bed, I miss drinking his coffee, as we sit outside and talk about our day ahead. I miss him.

The next day I get no text, three days go by and nothing. I pray and pray, but worry something bad has happened. I text him I am coming home. I drive over and the fence is still locked. He is sitting in his car, I see him, it is only 30 minutes until his bedtime, so it is dark. Brads on his phone, but he won’t come to the gate and let me in.

I called him, but he turned off his phone. I drive back to the hotel with a huge knife in my chest, my heart is bleeding out slowly. What do I do now? I climb into bed until my heart bleeds out.

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