Chapter 14
Eyes wide shut!!!
Usually, as soon as I realised I was awake, I opened my eyes and got out of bed. But on this particular morning I felt quite happy when I woke up and so I kept my eyes closed for a moment.
Have you ever noticed that when you think back on the morning, you’re not able to remember if you opened your eyes as soon as your brain said it was time to get up? Well, I started to get into a routine of not opening my eyes before I was ready and willing to face the man lying next to me. I would retreat to my happy place as soon as I woke up, with my eyes still closed. That was my only escape from reality. Facing the fact that I was living in the middle of a real-life nightmare was frightening.
A nightmare I didn’t know how to get out of and one where I had started to fear for my life. I had kept quiet for so long by then, that I got to the point where I was not sure what I believed and what I knew was real. I was so confused by the many mind games that Paul had played on me. I knew that this was not a good situation and I knew that I was not happy with where I was, but I had no idea how to get out of it. I was imprisoned in this life, because I had got used to being his punching bag. I was used to being nothing more than an object for him to take his anger and frustration out on, because I became convinced that no one else would want me anymore.
The saddest part is, I was totally alone. There was no way on earth that I would be able to share this with anyone. I was living a lie. Not just lying to myself but to every damn person that knew me. Or dare I say - used to know me. I looked at my life and saw no one. Less than two years ago I had many friends; friends I loved and that loved and respected me. Now I was lying here next to a monster and I was too scared to open my eyes, because if he knew that I was awake all hell would break loose. The verbal abuse would start and maybe, just maybe, if I was lucky, I would be quick enough to dodge a slap. As long as my eyes were closed, I could be me, dream about myself in my happy, carefree world. I just needed to be careful not to smile.
I felt him move next to me and wasn’t sure if he was awake. I was not going to peek to see if he was. I was just going to stay here where I was for now; here where I could be who I wanted, with whom I wanted and wherever I wanted.
“What is it with the smirk on your face Azelene? Are you dreaming or are you awake?”
“Fuck,” I thought to myself, “I smiled, I wasn't supposed to smile! I was smiling inwardly; I didn’t realise that I had inadvertently let it show on my face!”
I had to do something; I had to think fast. I stretched out and gave a big yawn.
“Good morning,” I smiled.
“What the fuck were you smiling about?” Paul looked at me, clearly pissed off.
“Smiling, me? Not quite sure, I must have been dreaming.” I replied, hesitantly.
“Dreaming, so what have you been dreaming about?” He asked, suspiciously.
“I don’t know Paul; I can’t remember.”
WHACK! His hand connected with my face.
“If I find out that you’re lying to me you'll get more than just a slap on the cheek. Are you seeing somebody?”
I felt a warm tear rolling down my face but before I could reply, he continued, “Stop being such a sissy, I haven’t even touched you. Wait till I really slap you, then you’ll have a good reason to cry.”
For a moment I wondered if this was what his parents used to say to him as a child. This rage had to come from somewhere. But then again, if I looked at the picture-perfect family, it was difficult to believe that such cruel, distrustful aggression could be part of their history. Here was the perfect looking man in front of me, with such a violent and abusive nature.
I couldn’t understand it; I didn’t understand it at all. I rolled onto my other side to get him out of my peripheral vision.
“This is not how I want to wake up on a Saturday morning Paul,” I said quietly.
“Well stop being such a bitch then and stop lying. You’re doing this to yourself, nobody else is to blame,” I heard him hiss.
What was wrong with me? If I had just opened my eyes when I realised that I was awake, none of this would have happened.
Paul was right, what happened this morning was all my own fault. I was such a bitch. As I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, I was still able to see his finger marks on my cheek. It was a good thing I was getting used to wearing more make-up. I couldn’t leave the flat with this puffy red cheek. Thank God I didn’t have to work today, I was slowly running out of excuses. I was sure Ronell was going to smell a rat about my constant bruises. Up until now I had been able to hide them and the few times it was noticeable, I was able to elaborate and come up with a good story. I was sure she believed me when I went to work with a black eye. These things happened. People hurt themselves, fell and stumbled into doors. I just needed to believe it myself and believe that I deserved it, like this morning’s slap. It couldn’t get worse than this, could it?
“So, are you going to tell me what or who your dream was about?” He was standing in the doorway staring at me as I lay soaking in the warm bath he had made for me as an apology, replete with bubbles and dried rose petals. I wanted to slide down into the water and drown myself, but I refused to draw my last breath in front of him; because of him. All I needed to do was be nicer and not cause trouble. I loved him a lot and I was sure that if I did more he would stop getting angry.
“No Paul, I don’t remember. It was just a dream.”
“Are you sure you’re not seeing anybody else?”
“No Paul, I’m not seeing anyone. Where on earth would I in any case meet anybody or have the time to see anybody? I don’t have friends and I don’t see anyone at work except for Ronell and Susan. So where on earth do you think I would find the time to have another relationship? You drop me off at work and pick me up. I don’t even go to the shops by myself and when was the last time I met my sister on my own, I can’t even recall? So no, I don’t have someone else and I don’t know or have control over what I was dreaming about, ok?”
He just stared at me, turned on his heel and walked away. I wished he had closed the door behind him, but I would be so lucky to have privacy in my own flat. I couldn’t even remember when last I was alone. If I was at work, I had Ronell and Susan around me. I got picked up from work by Paul and if he couldn’t be around me for some reason after work, I would get dropped off at his Mom’s house where either Mandy, Amy, the two kids, the maid or his Mom would keep me company till he got back. Only then was I allowed to go back to the flat, where he now slept every night. Is this how life in a relationship is supposed to be? No breathing space at all?
The only time I was alone and in my happy place, was early in the morning when I would wake up before opening my eyes. I needed more of that alone time, time in my mind, in my happy place, where my imagination could take me wherever I wanted to go.
I just couldn’t wake up with a smile again, not ever again.
Another thing that started happening soon after we moved to Francesca, Paul started to play a little game with me. At least, that’s what he called it. He would pin me down on the floor and flick his lighter in my face. Sometimes so close that I would close my eyes because I was so scared the flame was going to burn me. He would laugh and say, “Azelene, the sooner you open your eyes the sooner I’ll move the lighter further away. Shut your eyes and I’ll keep coming closer.” He would then smirk and say, “This is how you build trust my darling.” For me it had nothing to do with trust, it was frightening and sadistic. But I was too scared to argue, so I did what he said and forced my eyes open. To this day I have a fear of things close to my face and sudden movements in front of my eyes. I have flashbacks, which are very upsetting because they remind me of him and what he took from me.
Chapter 15
Punching bag by day,
Hustler by night!
We didn’t go out often, but Paul loved playing pool. Playing pool on weekends was our escape. He taught me to play and I did well on the tables, hustling and winning big money. I played for about three months with him, when he decided to buy me a new cue. I was so pleased and loved my cue and lived for evenings out on the town proving myself at the tables. We won most nights and never had any issues when we played. Paul never drank anything while we played; the best times were when he didn’t drink anything. I used to sip on a Bacardi Breezer, but never drank more than one.
One evening we played a couple of new guys and won. Then Paul decided to play a round of singles with one of them. His partner came up to me and asked if I wanted something to drink. My Breezer was finished, so I accepted his offer. He bought me a drink and we stood on the sideline cheering our partners on, chatting in between and laughing and joking. Paul finished the game with no effort. It was very strange that he challenged the guy in the first place, because he didn’t play well at all. In fact, his friend who was standing on the sidelines with me was a far better player. What was Paul thinking? He walked over to me and grabbed my arm.
“Are you done?” I stared at him, shocked.
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“Are you done making a fool out of me?”
“Paul, I don’t understand what you mean!”
“You’re acting as if you’re available, Azelene. Get your bag, we’re leaving.” I grabbed my bag, picked up my pool cue and walked out the door after him. He spun round and grabbed the pool cue out of my hand.
“You won’t need this anymore!” He took it in both hands, lifted his knee and broke my cue in two, threw it on the floor and walked away. I stood there with tears in my eyes looking at him, wondering what the hell was going on in his head. Why was he doing things to create issues that made me look like the troublemaker? I didn’t understand his motives, his reasons and what he was gaining from it all. We got in the car and neither of us spoke the whole way back to my flat. I took a bath and got into bed. I sobbed myself to sleep. I was so depressed; I was alone, and I felt defeated.
I was never allowed to play again. Paul still played on Friday and Saturday nights, but after that fateful evening, I was never allowed close to the table. One evening, one of the regulars was chatting to Paul.
“What’s wrong? Why isn’t Azelene playing tonight?” he asked.
“She doesn’t like playing anymore; she gave her cue away a couple of weeks ago. Now she just tags along to watch me,” Paul said as he looked at me.
I sat there and thought to myself, “If you only knew how badly I want to play”, but I wasn’t allowed to touch a cue ever again. It broke my heart to sit there every weekend, knowing I wasn’t allowed to join in anymore.
Things were being taken away from me bit by bit, my personality, my dignity, my pride, my love for life. I felt alone, sad, unwanted and guilty. But I never told anyone about what was going on behind closed doors. I wore a mask, a mask that hid so much pain. We didn’t have friends, I didn’t see my family anymore, Ronell and I only talked at work and I wasn’t allowed to visit her. It was Paul, his family and I. I never even went home to visit my parents; we only spoke on the phone once in a while. I felt isolated but didn’t know how to turn things around. I was very young and not nearly mature enough to know what to do or who to talk to and that made everything so much worse.
Chapter 16
The Dress
“Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.”
-Albert Einstein-
One Friday afternoon we got ready to go to a modeling show that Mandy was taking part in in Johannesburg. Paul told me that Jack and his girlfriend were in town and that they would be joining us that evening. I liked him a lot and couldn’t wait to meet his new lady. Paul ran me a bath and said he would get my clothes out. I followed his instructions and climbed in the tub. After my bath, he told me to sit so that he could dry my hair. My dress was already on the bed with shoes, my bag and earrings. I went and sat in front of the mirror and looked over my shoulder at the dress on the bed and thought to myself, “I’m so glad he took the short polka dot out.” I loved it and felt fantastic in it. I hadn’t worn it much because we didn’t go places where it was appropriate, but a modeling show was perfect. In a way, I was a bit sad that I would not be on stage myself that evening. Paul didn’t want me to further my modeling career, so I flicked the thought out of my mind and looked at myself in the mirror again. Paul stood behind me and started combing my hair.
Suddenly the movie Sleeping with the Enemy popped into my head and I got a cold shiver down my spine. Is this what normal couples do? Do their partners decide what they wear, do their hair and take all their freedom away? I knew this wasn’t right but what were my options? Shortly after Paul finished my hair and I got dressed, the doorbell rang. Jack and his girlfriend were on time. He arrived with a cold bottle of champagne and we decided to have a glass before we left for the show. I was very excited and looking forward to a night out on the town.
We arrived in Johannesburg and enjoyed an evening of glitz and glamour. I felt like a million dollars and was able to see myself on stage with all the other girls. I missed my modeling. Suddenly I missed Peter as well. I couldn’t get him out of my mind for most of the evening. After the show, Paul and Jack suggested that we go out for dinner. We were all hungry and Jack said he knew of a great place in Sandton. Excitedly, we jumped in the car. Paul was driving, and Jack and his girlfriend sat in the back. We chatted happily, and the evening felt perfect. I hadn’t had a perfect day or night in such a long time, so I was excited and enjoying every minute of it. We parked the car and got out. Paul and I walked hand in hand towards the restaurant. As we approached the entrance, a handsome guy and his beautiful girlfriend came walking towards us, as they made their way to their car.
“Wow, she looks beautiful,” the man said to his partner.
“Yes, I love her dress,” she replied, looking at me. I smiled and felt so good about myself, but suddenly Paul stopped, took his jacket off and pointed at me.
“Put my jacket on,” he hissed.
“Thanks, but I’m not cold, I don’t need your jacket,” I responded.
“I’m not asking you Azelene; I’m telling you to put my jacket on now!” Paul barked at me. Jack and his girlfriend just kept on walking.
He draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Let’s go.”
Suddenly the warm, happy atmosphere had changed. We walked into the restaurant and when I got to the table, I lifted my hand towards my shoulder to take the jacket off and place it over the chair.
“Don’t you dare,” Paul ground out, putting his hand on my back in warning. I sat down and had the most uncomfortable dinner ever.
When I stood up to go to the toilet, Paul walked with me. I thought to myself, “Thank God he isn’t allowed in the Ladies, because I know he would follow me in just to make sure I wasn’t alone.” I closed the cubicle door behind me, pulled the jacket off and threw it on the floor. I thought furiously, “You fucking bastard!” When I was done, I went and stood in front of the mirror, looking at the skinny girl staring back at me. I was still pretty, but I was so extremely sad and wanted to cry. I took the jacket and draped it over my shoulders once again. Seeing myself disappearing under this enormous jacket broke my heart. I was scared, and I didn’t know where to turn.
Doing as I was told was always the best option when things turned sour, because if I tried to stand up for myself I knew I might end up with another black eye. I walked out and saw the look of irritation on his face. “Why’d you take so long?” I didn’t answer, just continued walking to the table where Jack and his new girlfriend were sitting obliviously chatting and laughing.
After dinner, we got back in the car to go home. Paul asked Jack if he would drive and offered up a lame excuse for why he couldn’t.
“Anytime,” Jack said, and Paul and I got in the back seat. It was dark and quiet. Paul asked Jack to turn the music up and as soon as it was loud enough, I felt the blows rain down on my thighs. He hit me hard, over and over again. I bent forward and begged him to stop but he grabbed me by the back of the head and head-butted me with such force that I knew it was going to result in another black eye. I reeled back and saw Jack looking at me in the rearview mirror. Paul continued his assault on my thighs and I curled my head to my knees in a desperate attempt to protect myself. When we got to the flat, Paul climbed out and went inside without so much as a backward glance. I stayed in the car, crying.
“Why didn’t you do something?” I asked Jack as they climbed out of the vehicle, but he just looked at me.
“What do you mean Azelene?”
“You must have seen what happened, Jack? Paul just head butted me in the car. Look at my eye.”
“Sorry Azelene, but I didn’t see anything.” He took his girlfriend’s hand and they walked away, leaving me standing alone outside my flat. I had a pounding headache and was terrified to go inside. When I finally screwed up the courage, I found Paul fast asleep in bed. Again, I was shocked to see how easily he was able to fall asleep after such an outburst of rage and hatred. I walked into the bathroom, shut and locked the door. I sat down on the closed toilet seat and pulled my dress up. My legs were blue, they were sore and bruised. I placed my face in my hands and started to sob like a baby. I wanted to go home, I wanted to be protected, I wanted to be far away from this man, but I was scared and didn’t know how to get out of the situation I was in. I stayed in the bathroom for a long time crying and feeling extremely sorry for myself.
The next morning Paul didn’t say a word. It was all forgotten. Everything seemed normal again. He woke up early and went down to the local bakery to get us freshly baked croissants. I decided to stay in bed; my eye was blue and swollen and I felt bruised and sore. Paul came back and walked into the room with an enormous bunch of fresh flowers and dropped them next to me on the bed.
“Here you go,” he said. “Hope this will cheer you up.” I just looked at him silently.
The rest of the week passed without any issues.
“His worst fantasy, her reality,
He pulls the strings
Does unspeakable things
A sadistic entrance for his acceptance.”
-Diana Rasmussen-