I will never forget the first time Sam wrapped his hands around my throat. He knocked me to the ground of the living room floor, just behind the couch. This was the first time I ever met his rage. He easily rested his weight on me and I didn't budge an inch in my attempts in trying to fight him. His hands grasped at my neck and just before it all went black, the last I heard him say was, "I've killed for less than this."
Darkness fell over my eyes and I started to fade. Then, RELEASE.... and I could breathe again. I got up in a stupor. One would think I wouldn't stay after that, but I did. I felt like he needed my help. I felt like I could be a positive change for him. I was so wrong. People only change when they want to change. They don't change otherwise. Sam was perfectly okay with what he was... still is. There is no changing him. He is what he is... a bonafide sociopath.
Instances like this occurred several other times. It was until after I had our son that I was really concerned. It's one thing when you subject yourself to that kind of torment, but a whole other story when you have a kid involved.
Rewinding a little ways. Sam and I went on vacation to Barbados during one of his months free from contract work. We stayed for a few weeks and then returned home. We got into a huge fight and two days before he was to leave again, we came to a mutual ground... or so I thought. He turned his light switch on and off so easily.
He would travel a lot and we would only see each other for a month or two total out of the year... and not consecutively. I think that is how we lasted so long. I mean, I didn't have to really deal with him much when he was gone and he was good at making me think he missed me and wanted me. I felt most wanted when he was far away.
In the very beginning of his travels back overseas after vacationing in Barbados, I discovered that I was pregnant. I heard from him three days later and he attempted to sway me into getting an abortion. Now, in the beginning of our dating, I told him my views on abortion personally and that it wasn't something I personally felt was possible for me to do. He agreed 100%. But here I was, finding myself having to explain to him why an abortion would be too hard for me and the potential damages it could do to my body. He kept on and on with the, "It's bad timing" and "Can't we have a baby next year?" speeches. I couldn't believe what he was saying. I finally put my foot down and flat out told him, "No, I cannot do that to myself." Then the tables turned. He accused me of tricking him into pregnancy and trapping him. He told me that he was going to break up with me when he got overseas anyway. He attempted to make me hate him and told me that I was going to ruin his life and our kid's life. I was floored.
The first trimester consisted of friends supporting me and making sure I was ok. My friend Jason was the one who rushed over amidst a panic attack. Sarah, Allie, Jen, and Nicki would welcome me with open arms at work with huge hugs and stick figure picture drawings to help make me smile. I worked two full time careers as a firefighter in our town and a paramedic in Savannah. I was more than occupied enough to keep my mind off of things. Sam and I didn't talk a whole lot. He had nothing nice to say to me and frankly, I had nothing nice to say to him at this point.
However, come trimester number two.... all of that soon changed... because the light switch flipped up again...
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