–She was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine—Lolita
1. STALKING After Kay’s murder, my friend, Jane, asked- “Kim, when did it all begin?”
I answered, “At the very beginning.”
Even when Kay wasn’t home, her murderer sat outside our house for hours with his car running, his head draped over the steering wheel, his Led Zeppelin blasting.
I asked my mother recently, “why didn’t we run out there, tell him to get the fuck away from our house, leave Kay the hell alone. She had no answer.
Like Kay, we simply allowed him to stay.
I’ll never forget when Kay told me about one of her earlier dates with him. I didn’t think much about it back then…but I do now. Yes, I do now.
She said they had gone out for dinner to Applebee’s or something and walked a few blocks after parking the car. Kay had not dressed properly for the freezing December evening, so she asked if she could wear his jacket until they arrived inside.
“No way,” he laughed. “That’s your problem. Why should I suffer for your stupidity?”
3. TOXIC TONGUE
Cunt. Bitch. Underachiever. Useless. Worthless. Slut. Good for nothing stay at home mom.
“He crushes my soul,” Kay told me a over and over again. “He crushes my dreams.”
Why then, I often ask myself, didn’t I do something. SOMETHING. Anyfuckingthing.
For example, I should’ve broken every finger, so he couldn’t pick up a gun. I should’ve hidden Kay on a secret island. I should’ve seen the monster dwelling inside his eyes.
4. TOXIC FISTS
Over lunch recently, a friend said, “Kim, did you know I used to visit Kay in her old apartment in Superior.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” I replied.
“Yes, I did. You were living in the Bahamas at that time. Anyhow, one day Kay answered the door with a big black eye.”
“O’ my god, why didn’t you tell me this before?” I cried.
“Because she told me she tripped over the vacuume cleaner and I believe her.”
Every time Kay took him back (too many times), her abuser promised he’d change, be a better man, father, communicator, son, a Godly man, a kinder, gentler man.
A man of substance. ( he was never a man )
He promised he’d listen to her dreams & goals, spend time w/ his boys instead focusing on his running, CDs, work, his own interests.
“Look,” he said, opening the pages of the bible, “I’m changing my ways this time for good.”
He lasted one month, one week, one minute.
Then, he stomped on her beautiful, beating heart.
Kay’s abuser controlled her like Humbert controlled Lolita.
He was the beast. She was the beauty. Nobody could believe a man like him could be with a girl like her.
But when he said he would save her, she believed every word.
When he told her she was stupid, she shrunk low enough to fit inside his hands.
When he told her she couldn’t make it on her own, she followed him.
In the end, Kay’s abuser became her killer, her executioner, the devil.
Not only of her soul, but of her physical, perfectly healthy body.
I asked the director of DAIP, Linda Riddle, “Why didn’t he just shoot himself? Why did he need to shoot her, too?”
She answered in four simple, powerful words I shall never forget as long as I live…
“Because. She. Was. His.”
—What you can do now: Tell somebody TODAY: a friend, neighbor, family member, co-worker. Don’t keep your abuse secret.
—Make a Safely Plan HERE NOW
—-Call the National Domestic Abuse Hotline. 1-800-799-7233
Other Articles to Read: 13 Reasons She Stayed