I have to go, Trent is due home soon and I need to make dinner. If it’s not on the table at five-thirty, well you and I know whatever he does to me could’ve been avoided if I just do as he asks.
See ya.
September 29th 2014
Diary,
“If you ever leave me, I’ll find you and kill you. Then I’ll kill myself because life without you isn’t worth living.” Trent said that to me, then he told me, “It’s only because I love you so much.”
Damn…
I’ve got to go. He’s back early and I haven’t made the bed yet. He likes it when everything is tidy.
November 24th 2014
I can’t even start this entry by saying ‘dear diary’, really I can’t. Yesterday I got back from the hospital. I did something so stupid, I really only have myself to blame for Trent hitting me.
Why, and I repeat why, would I have asked him if he’s seeing someone else? I was doing the laundry and there was lipstick marks on one of his shirts. He lost his temper at me. He said it was probably me fucking around and that I’m accusing him to distract from the truth. I yelled at him. Why would I do that? I’m so stupid, I just can’t believe how dumb I am.
I deserve what I got. He’s my husband. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He twisted my arm around behind my back and broke it. It was an accident, I know it was, because when he dropped me off at the hospital he said it was an accident and he didn’t mean to hurt me – he just lost his temper because I said something to upset him.
The doctors didn’t have to operate because they said the fracture didn’t require surgery, just a cast. Trent said he couldn’t stay with me, because he was helping a friend get ready for a party. He told me I could do it on my own, and he also said to tell the doctors and nurses I was running and tripped. I said what he told me to say. They didn’t believe me, but I insisted and convinced them.
One of the nurses came in on the sly and tried to talk me into saying Trent beats me. But he doesn’t. Because he’s not a bad person, he just wants things done in a certain way, and I get punished if they aren’t done how he likes them. I make him angry, and it’s then when he hits me. See it’s my fault, not his. And this hospital visit, well this one was an accident. But I told her, I’m just a silly woman who’s clumsy. She believed me after that.
While I was resting, after they had put a cast on my arm, a nice-looking man wheeling the food trolley came in to deliver a tray to the bed beside me. He looked really familiar, but I couldn’t place him. But I know I knew him. He offered me something to eat, but I didn’t feel hungry. I tried to remember who he was, and when I closed my eyes to rest, I remembered where I saw him before. He was the man at the deli that one time. His stutter was unforgettable. Remember, the man who held the door open for that girl who was coming in? I think his name was Max. I remember how he was really nice to that girl, and I remember his stutter, too.
Anyway, I’m going to try extra hard from now on. Trent always tells me how much of a disappointment I am to him. So now I’m going to try and make him proud of me. He also told me I look like a fat piece of meat. So I’ll be starting my diet tonight. I need to get down to eighty pounds. God, I’m so fat.
Bye diary.
Ps: I can’t wait to be the best wife in the world for Trent. He deserves the best. He loves me so much.
It’s my twenty-fifth birthday today and I’m spending it alone in the hospital.
Curling up on my side I can’t help but let the tears fall. Losing the baby this time was hard. The hardest one yet. Maybe because I was just under half-way there at sixteen weeks, or maybe because I was hoping this time it would be different.
“How are you, Mrs. Hackly?” an older nurse asks as she comes through the door.
All I can do is cry. The heaviness inside me doesn’t ever lighten. I can’t look at her; I can’t even make eye contact. The hurt rolls through me, the absolute abyss of misery overtaking every part of me.
“Have you eaten today?” She asks as she walks around the side of the bed, and gently smooths my hair away from my face. I’m a complete mess, worse than a tragedy.
Trent dropped me off at the hospital after I woke with blood-soaked sheets. I don’t know why I miscarried this baby. Maybe I shouldn’t call it a baby. If I just say a fetus then it seems more impersonal, like it was nothing more than a mere heavy period.
The day before yesterday I did the stupidest thing ever. I just won’t learn and I don’t know why I keep pushing Trent’s buttons and making him mad. I had an extra bowl of soup at dinner without even asking him if he wanted it.