7 Years of Hell
By: Chrystin Roufley
Tags: Rape, Domestic Violence, Emotional Abuse, Narcissism, Domestic Abuse

7 Years of Hell

Part 2

When I say Fox was manipulative, I don't think a lot of people understand the extent of it. The first year he did a lot of love bombing mixed with gaslighting. I wish I'd have known about mental abuse then, because I can recall one moment where it would have been so clear. We got into an argument. About what, I can't remember. But, by the end of it, he'd brought up his past and how I was acting reminded him of something terrible that happened and I felt guilty. Then, he came to me as a shoulder to cry on, comforting me, loving on me, telling me how I was so sensitive and sympathetic and that kind of "cruelty" was out of character for me so he was sorry that he got me so upset. I was so confused by it all, I left without a word and took a drive. I was walking around a park when I got a mile long text about how much he loved me and how things were going to get better. He said all the right things. It was well worded and poetic and filled with raw emotion. Ladies and gentlemen, that is how you build a trauma bond. I was so in love. From then on, everything was "worth it" and "no one understands like I do" was the mantra I used to defend him to everyone else and even myself.

When issues arrose with my family, it became a favorite tool in his box. They didn't like him from the get go. I should have trusted their instincts. Many of friends even withdrew from my life when it became apparent he wasn't going anywhere. In the long run, he convinced me that I didn't have many real friends and my parents wanted to control me. Since he didn't fit into the stereo type of a manly man they hated him and wanted to drive wedges between us. If I listened to them, I'd never achieve my dreams and never go anywhere. Anything he could say, he would to make them seem like the manipulators. It quickly became us against them.

When we moved to Texas to live with my aunt and she escalated to manipulative and dramatic means of splitting Fox and I up, it served to solidify everything he was telling me. Every one was the enemy. I could't trust anyone but him, the person I should have trusted the least. So, when we returned to Montana and my family made a few small gripes about him, I jumped on the plan to seek our fortune and dreams in California where his family lived. I didn't realize how bad of a choice that was. The isolation it led to was the ground work for the first time he'd get away with raping me, and the memory repression I would suffer.

TW rape, near death experience, sodomy, mental abuse

I often wonder what would have happened if I'd have recalled the first time? I remember it now. So clearly. I was living with Fox in his RV in California, apart from my family and every one I knew. I was sick, probably on the verge of heat stroke. It had been over 100° all week and I stayed outside most of the time out of fear of running afoul of Fox's brother in law whose property we stayed on. Fox had agreed to help around the place in lue of rent and was failing to make good on it. Since he had a habit if vanishing, I was left to contend with family I barely knew being justifiably angry. I opted to hide in the hot RV. I was barely conscious when Fox returned from wherever it was he frequently disappeared to for hours. I tried to tell him something was wrong, that I didn't feel well. He didn't even respond. He didn't say a word. When I felt his hands lift my hips into the position he desired, I tried to roll away. Weak, breathless protests were about all I could muster. My head and stomach were both spinning. I was incapable of putting up any kind of fight. I couldn't even cry out in pain. To add insult to injury, he opted for anal penetration, which was something I'd continually refused him. As soon as he found me in a weak enough state, he merely took it for himself and that remained his habit. He took what he wanted as I fought for consciousness. After what seemed like forever, he rolled me over and completed his deed vaginally. I never understood why he did that. Maybe it his way of limiting the evidence or he was trying to "make up" for what hed done by changing to a more intimate position. It's one of the many things I'd like to have him answer for. Once he'd completed his act, he silently rolled off me and fell asleep, still ignoring my condition as well as the tears now streaming down my face and my body quaking violently with pain and fear.

I wonder to this day if I'd have even made it through to morning if it hadn't rained that night and the window hadn't been open and the screen broken out. If he hadn't left me naked and pressed against the wall. Funny how the little things add up. I regained consciousness to the feeling of cold water splashing my face. I remember sitting in the door of his RV while he slept peacefully, unfazed and unconcerned with the heinous crime he'd just committed against me. I can almost still feel the rain on my skin and taste the cheap, rolled cigarette I was smoking as I contemplated calling for help. But, I'd turned my back on my family, or so he'd led me to believe. Chosen him over them. I know now that if I'd have made the call, I'd have been home for Sunday dinner. I hate myself for that stubbornness. For doubting my support system so much. I could have been free then and there. Instead, I let myself be isolated. This would not be the last time I betrayed myself and my mind followed suit. By morning, I had no recollection of his violation.

As far as I am aware, he didn't repeat his crime again until we had returned to Montana and I became pregnant with my first child.