A Week of Hell

I’ll tell the story from the beginning.
My parents separated when I was young.
My mom, my sister, and I were living happily after the separation,
Until my mom got remarried.
I couldn’t bear living with her when she got married,
So my father sent me to live with my grandma.
I wish I had never gone.
My grandmother and aunt both gave me a hard time.
I would cry myself to sleep every day,
Because of how they treated me.
I met a decent guy,
And I fell in love with him.
He proposed to me and we got engaged.
They did not treat him well when he’d visit us,
And he heard them insulting me once.
“Why do they treat you that way?” he asked.

He left me shortly after,
Because he didn’t like them.
I was in a very bad place.
I felt like I was dying.
I lost hope in ever finding a way out.

A couple of months later, I met someone new.
We talked a lot,
And we went out.
I had a good feeling about him,
But I didn’t really love him.
There was trouble at home one time,
And neither my mother nor father took my side.
I decided to call that guy,
And leave the house,
Because I couldn’t take it anymore—
All the beatings, cursing, and humiliation.
I did everything around the house,
To the extent that I’d sometimes fall asleep while standing from exhaustion.

I called him,
And told him I wanted to leave,
And that I’d take care of myself,
If he didn’t want anything to do with it.
He showed up,
And I left the house.
(This was three years ago).
We sat in a cafe and talked.
He suggested that we get married,
Because we couldn’t live together otherwise.
I was looking for any way out,
So I agreed.
I thought it was better to live with my husband,
Than to suffer alone.

We got married,
And we rented a furnished apartment,
Until we could afford to buy an apartment.
Then it happened.
In our first week of marriage, he slapped me across the face,
While we were discussing something.
It brought me back to my senses.
“What did I do?” I told myself.
He then apologized,
And it passed.

We furnished our apartment and it was ready.
That’s when the beating and cursing started.
He would never apologize.
I was the one who had to make up with him.
He never felt sorry for me if I cried.
He’d leave me alone until the next day.
“Don’t leave me alone,” I’d tell him.
But he’d go out and leave me at home crying.
And when I’d call him,
He’d turn off his phone or reject my call.

I knew he was divorced and had a son.
When my husband’s ex-wife found out that he remarried,
She sent the boy to live with us for a while.
But he stayed longer than expected.
I told myself it wasn’t the boy’s fault,
So he lived with us.
He was 7 years old,
And hard to manage.
My husband would hit me in front of the boy,
When we would fight.

When I got pregnant,
He wasn’t happy about it.
He started to look for a job in Saudi Arabia.
He found one and travelled for work because money was tight.
He left me his son,
Whom I had to take care of.
The money he’d send us wasn’t enough.
We kept fighting endlessly.

I was in touch with my mother at the time,
And I told her everything.
She helped me a little.
I stayed with his aunt for four months because he couldn’t send us money.
His aunt was very nice to me.
We still fought while I was staying with her.
He’d insult me over and over again.
I felt worthless.

He introduced me to his sponsor,
Whom I worked for as an online translator.
It was a good job,
And I got paid in dollars.
I forgot to mention that my husband had trust issues.
He was suspicious that something was going on between me and his sponsor.
He thought we were together.
He made me choose between work and our marriage.
“I choose work.
I don’t feel safe with you,” I told him.

By that time, I gave birth to my daughter,
And he hadn’t seen her.
He threatened to withhold allowance.
I asked for a divorce,
I sent his son to his aunt,
Left the house,
And stayed with my mother for six months.

I went back to my ex-fiance,
But not officially.
My husband and I were separated.
When he came back from Saudi Arabia,
after two and a half years of being gone,
I went back to him for the sake of my daughter.
I thought he’d be a different person,
And that we’d have a good life.

We went out a lot for the first few months when he was back,
But they would all end on a sad note.
I’d have one good day,
And a week of hell.
I got so tired.
Then he travelled again,
And left us behind.
He even brought his son back to live with me.
He treats me very coldly now.
I feel alone and lonely.
I wish I could have a stable life after all this.
But divorce is a difficult experience.
I don’t want my daughter to be the only reason I’m alive.

Warning The stories on our story archive could contain potentially sensitive and/or triggering material. If a story causes you discomfort or pain, please remember to breathe and check in with yourself before continuing or stop reading completely if necessary.