After weeks of being home, I had finally started to feel a little safer, but that didn’t stop the nightmares or flashbacks of those many nights I spent crying alone while my children slept. He kept calling and calling and I am not a spiteful person when it comes to my children, so I let him see them through video chat. Matthew was still a baby, and Michael as smart as he was truly didn’t understand what was going on. They were happy to be surrounded by people who loved them. They had their cousins back to play with and Matthew loved all the attention he had gotten. I wasn’t drinking nor using any type of pain medication at this time. I didn’t need to, I was home, safe with my family. I never felt 100% safe though and I knew eventually he was going to come back to Rhode Island again. Each time he spoke to me he swore he had changed, like I had heard so many times before. I didn’t believe him and at that time hated him for what he had done to me. Still I had close family who fed into his lies, even with pictures and texts of proof. What type of person would lie about something so sick and twisted? I hated myself because of how much hate he spat at me. Each day when he would call, text, or message me he was still using the control he had to make me believe in him. He would tell me how much he loved me, and how he was a changed man. How losing his kids was the worst thing to happen to him and he was a different man. He would never put us through that type of hurt again, and there I was back to the weak girl that married him. He saved up enough money to come home but I did not let him stay with us right away. He had stayed with his brother for a while but that got old fast and he came back home. Why in the world was I so fucking weak? Things changed for a little while, and then of course I was the world’s biggest piece of shit once again. Things would be good for a few weeks, then the fights would start and the kids had to witness it all. I hated him, but I hated myself more. Who was this woman looking back at me in the mirror, she sure as hell wasn’t the woman my mother raised me to be. I was back to the depressed drunk who tried to forget her problems with a bottle. Unfortunately this type of pain you can never numb. I lost everyone I loved because of who I became. This woman staring back at me was a stranger. I wanted to die every single day because of someone who was never worth a tear.