"I don't want to go back."
Angry hot tears poured down my face. I wanted to divorce Steven and never see him again. I knew he was never going to change, there was no hope of that happening.
"He doesn't love me or our son."
My hands were still trembling from reading Steven's handwritten apologies to me. I glanced back down at the first page. Scrawled in ink were my husband's confessions of being abusive and manipulative to me.
Cheyanne,
I want to express to you that I am sorry for the first 4 1/2 years of our marriage. I have failed you, Oliver, and God big time. My actions have been deplorable, and all I can do is admit them and ask forgives for them.
The actions, behaviors, and thoughts are as follows: When we first got married and we were driving cross country I was jealous of you calling your friend and I attempted to make that call horrible. I was starting to try and control you then, and for this I am repenting of. When we finally got to South Carolina we ended up in that two bedroom apartment, and we only had one car. This lead me to leaving you with a bicycle that didn't work well. This further is an example of me attempting to control where you were to go or not go. I would ignore you and ask you to do all the chores without lifting a finger. This was also the first time your mother saw how you were living.
It was here that she realized what I was truly, and that is something I didn't know until recently. I would order you around, get you to fetch me water, do the dishes, etc. That one time we had friends over I was a dick to them as well. For all of these things I ask forgiveness they are all my own fault, and not yours.…"
It made me feel ill knowing that he wasn't at all sorry. He was only writing everything down in an attempt to fool my parents into believing he was sorry and had "seen the light."
I closed my eyes and thought back to the beginning of our marriage. I had been so happy on our wedding day, believing that I was marrying someone who was energetic, motivated, hard working and honest. We had dated online for three months and only spent a few days together here and there since my parents were strict and didn't want me to be alone with my boyfriend, or any guy friend for that matter. Steven had seemed like an upstanding guy, a good Christian, a decent human being, but that was far from the truth. The second after our "I do's" Steven completely changed personalities.
I continued to read Steven's letters and only became angrier with the turn of each page:
I'm sorry that I threatened to burn your artwork and for taking away your phone when you wanted to call for help. I'm also sorry for throwing things at you in anger, yelling at you, and not allowing you to leave the house...
…I'm sorry that when you were pregnant with our son that I made you pack up the moving van basically by yourself when you shouldn't have been lifting heavy objects…
…I'm sorry that I've ignored you and our son and instead put video games first…
"He's not sorry! He isn't at all!" I cried out in exasperation. "This is what he does! He pretends to be sorry when he's afraid of getting into trouble! He only wrote this so that we'll believe him and stop pressuring him to change his behaviors. Steven is going to do the same damn things if I go back and live with him again! Please don't make me go back!" I pleaded to my parents.
Surely they had to have seen it by now. How couldn't they? Steven had literally handed me a list of his offenses. It wasn't just my own testimony anymore. There had to be weight to my story since his confessions matched what I was accusing him of doing, which was being abusive and controlling of me.
Although my parent's faces were contorted with concern, I could tell that they weren't completely jumping aboard onto my side.
"Cheyanne…" my mother began slowly, "you do understand that your father is your Pastor, and he could lose his job if he allows you to get a divorce outside of Biblical grounds, don't you?"
My heart was already beginning to sink. I peeled my eyes away from my Mom and instead started intently into Dad's blue eyes and hoped to hear him coming to my defense. Instead, I got the worst news I could ever hear.
"Cheyanne…" Dad began in his stern pastoral voice, "Marriage is sacred. You have to have Biblical grounds for getting a divorce, and because he hasn't cheated on you, left you, or physically assaulted you, you have to stay. If you leave him, then you will be the one in sin."
That was the first time I had ever experienced a panic attack.
My heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest, and my lungs tightened so I could barely breath. I gasped and panted for air as my legs collapsed from under me and my body slumped to the floor. My parents and siblings stared at me in horror. I vaguely remember my sister stooping down and holding me, but I don't remember anything she had said to try and comfort me.
It felt like I had died, been forsaken by God and cast down into the Ninth Ring of Hell. Nothing I said or did mattered. Nothing I did was enough. Steven could do whatever he wanted to me, but I would be the one in the wrong for escaping my prison. My parents and my pastor, my own blood relatives who I put all my trust in for advice and guidance, were not only withholding the keys of my freedom, they were holding the cage door shut and sealing my fate.
I had to go back to my abuser or I'd be the one in sin.
Everything around me peeled away and I was stuck with seeing Steven in my minds eye, standing in the doorway and not letting me out, as he'd often do if I wanted to go outside of the house.
"You can't leave, I have needs." He said as he stripped off his pants and walked towards me.
I shut my eyes and focused on trying to catch my breath, which was eluding me. I was inhaling too sharply and not catching enough air. I had to slow down and stop hyperventilating.
Oliver and I are still at my parent's house. Steven's still back at his house. He's not here, he's not here…
After a few minutes that felt like an eternity of being unable to catch my breath and my heart burning from within my chest, I was slowly able to calm down and regain my senses. The memories of Steven faded away, and the present was coming back into focus.
"Cheyanne… Cheyanne!"
My sister was still by my side and shaking my arm. Tears were flooding down her pale face. "Are you okay?" She cried loudly.
I was far from okay, but I now had a plan. If I was to escape from my terrible marriage, then my husband, according to my father and pastor, would either have to cheat on me, hit me, or leave me. One of those things had to happen for my family to back me on my divorce.
I now knew how to achieve my freedom, and I was going to obtain it.