Money

I was at work one day when she sent me a photo of a clown. It was not to be funny, but she said it looked like me.

She was always saying bad things about how I dressed. I couldn’t forget it. I kept thinking, maybe other people think the same. It made me feel bad, like I was not good enough.

He would put a chair in the kitchen and make me sit on it. If I refused, he would push me down and tie me to it.

He would make me tell him all the things I had done wrong that day. Then he would hit me for them.

If I couldn’t think of anything, he would call me a liar and lock me in there until I thought of something. I had to think of something even though I knew he was going to hit me.

He always threaten to tell immigration about me and send me back, even though I here legally. Just the idea of being reported would mess up my job and seeing my kids. He know this, but he don’t care. He just want to hurt me, to make me feel scared and powerless.

It feel like he got all the power, and I can’t do nothing.

Every morning there was a cup of tea waiting for me in the kitchen. Always in the same broken cup. I hated that cup, I wanted to smash it, but that would just get me in trouble. She would also leave the teabag and spoon for me to clean up.

She did it to remind me that I was a broken mess and that nobody would want me.

The thought of it still makes me feel sad and lonely.

One morning, I walked into the bathroom to shave, and there it was, written in bold letters on the mirror: ‘BITCH’. He knew I’d see it, every morning, without fail. It didn’t happen just once, he did it every day, in places he knew I couldn’t avoid.

Seeing those words staring back at me, mocking me, was worse than if he’d just said it to my face.

She always appeared wherever I went, and I couldn’t figure out how. Later, I found out she’d put tracking software on my phone.

I felt trapped, like I couldn’t escape no matter where I went. It was like she was watching me all the time.