Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

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Chapter 25

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Chapter 25
A Wedding and a Funeral

After I finally recovered from that, I met Allan.

I should have broken up with him almost from the start. Only a few weeks after we started dating, he was drinking one evening, and trapped me against his car when I wanted to leave the restaurant/bar we were at. It was, had I but the intelligence to realize it, a foreshadowing. This sign of more to come, though, eluded me. I stayed, when the next day he called and was fully contrite. It was unusual for him; he never acted like that… all the things that abusive men say.

We dated and grew closer and closer. Then he moved in with me while I was searching for a new place to live. I was barely making ends meet, and when I told him I was looking for a new place, he suggested we move in together and he’d help pay the rent. I loved the place I was living, so I agreed. I was certainly falling in love with him, and he was living on his boat. It just seemed to all make sense.

He moved in and immediately he began to show signs of controlling behavior. I felt though, now, that I really didn’t have a lot of options. It “so happened” that “we” ended up needing the last of my savings, and now I didn’t have the nest egg required to move anymore.

He came home one day when I was wearing shorts and had just gone with the landlord to cash my paycheck and give him rent. Oddly enough, Allan wasn’t paying his part, but was complaining that I had suckered him into moving in with me and footing all the bills (what?). On this particular day, Allan had been out on his boat, drinking. When he got there and found me in short pants, and passed the landlord leaving, he had a fit. I was, apparently, having an affair with the landlord and I was a slut who was trying to lure men into my whorish trap.

He was sorry later.

It was the last incident for a really long time. Things were peaceful for the most part for almost a year. Then he blew up again. This time, there was some mild violence, so I left him for two weeks. During those two weeks, he went to counseling, and showed every indication that he knew he was wrong and truly wanted a change. I went back to him, and we lived once more in peace for a year. I married him then, despite the red flag that he’d stopped going to counseling.

During that year, his uncle had been diagnosed with cancer. Joe was dying, a slow, painful death by cancer. It was far too widespread throughout his body, and he couldn’t possibly be saved. Poor Mac deteriorated rapidly. The chemo destroyed his body at an incredible rate of speed. He was sick and vomiting and had a tube constantly in his stomach, and down his throat.

I’ve rarely seen anyone who looked less like they enjoyed life. And sure enough, Mac often said he wanted to die. He was ready to die. He was in constant pain that the meds couldn’t alleviate. His family adamantly held onto him. They didn’t care that he was going to die whether they tortured him with these horrific drugs, or not. They didn’t care that the doctors had stated that the best these things could do would be to prolong his life. The cost of this prolonging was horrific.

I know that they didn’t want to lose him, but I don’t honestly understand how anyone could do that to someone they love. How could they torture him with “medicines” that severely limited the quality of his life, and then keep him alive in torment and misery with tubes and machines and all of the trappings of medical science? It was barbaric. I wanted so desperately to talk to him about death. I wanted to tell him what was really on the other side. And I wanted to tell his family to let him go.

But they couldn’t see that they were torturing him in the name of saving his life for as long as they could force him to malinger. They saw only their own desire to have him there longer.

So shortly after Mac died, Allan pressured me to marry him. He wanted a happy event to offset the “bad news” of Mac dying. We argued extensively about it. I felt it was too much to ask of others so soon after such a harrowing and agonizing experience. He insisted and I finally gave in.

And that’s how I ended up married to a violent man.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:19 pm

Posted in Chapter 25