Author Topic: You HAVE to read this - revenge letter from an abused mother  (Read 2559 times)

longtimelurker

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http://abuse101.com/abuseaccumulate.html
A man comes home from work early to surprise his wife with flowers and candy and finds that she's already got something planned? The computer is on and there is note written on it. He sits down in front of the computer and notices his handgun on one side of the computer and on the other side, an empty container of pain pills. He reads the message:

By the time you read this I will already be dead, so don't get too excited. Don't bother looking around the house for me either. Of course I didn't want my body where my children may see, for they have already seen enough. They have already had to endure far too many years of seeing their mother being tortured by the man they are supposed to look up to. But even though I know I am going to hurt them dearly, I cannot live like this anymore. So, I am taking these pain pills, prescribed for the kind of pain you inflict and I am going somewhere to take a nap. Don't bother looking for me, just sit there and do something that you haven't been able to do for the last ten tears? Listen to me. Now that I had to go and kill myself to get your attention, the least you can do is finish reading this letter. I have been writing it over and over in my head for years.

Every time that you beat me I had to rewrite it to add to the horror. Besides I didn't want you to find me after I died because the thought of you touching me even after death turns my stomach. I refuse to let you touch me again, in life or death. I chose to die because I promised God when I married you that I would love you for life. And since I am more afraid of him than you, I chose death. I cannot love you anymore so I have to leave this place.

As I look around to this house, you know its funny but I can remember the good times that we shared together. Before the babies, before the drinking, do you remember? I do, and it was good back then. It was almost good enough to give me a little hope that we could get back to those times. And they were good times. I guess I have to settle with the fact that no matter what's going on right now, you once loved me, and even you can't deny that. I think what hurts more than my ribs that are stinging me right now is the fact that I still love you. That realization is stronger than any fist you could ball up and hurl at me.

Knowing that my love for you causes a stronger and more lasting pain is much worse than a swift kick in the groin from your steel toed shoes. But this is a pain that I can take care of, something that I can remedy. I am not into pain, even personally inflicted kinds, so I had to relieve myself.

Even as I stood in the mirror this morning admiring the black eye that you gave me last night I knew you would never touch me again. And as I sucked blood from my split, swollen lips I knew I couldn't stand another blow from you. Not because of the fact that you promised with tears in your eyes that you would never do that to me again. Nor the fact that you put your hand on the bible and swore to me that you were going to get help. Not even the fact that you got down on your knees and swore to God that you would never lift a hand to me again.

Well, your prayers were answered and no, you will not be touching me again. I guess I just had to play God and make sure of that myself.

Last night when I picked myself off of the floor and fell into your arms it wasn't because I wanted to, I just couldn't stand. It wasn't because I wanted you to hold me, as you may have thought. You picked me up carried me to our bed and lay on top of me and kissed my swollen face so soft and gentle.

Even though you brushed my hair from eyes and kissed my eyelids, I didn't feel anything. And even though I may have moaned when you licked me between my thighs, I really didn't feel any kind of pleasure. And when you put yourself inside of me and I grabbed your butt and said your name a few times, I was just helping you get it over with. I moaned because your weight was on my stinging ribs. So what that you asked me what the fuck I was doing when I scratched your back, I felt the urge. And when you went to sleep, I laid there under you because I couldn't move. When you finally rolled off of me you were limp and you left your condom inside of me. The condom you searched all over for because you didn't want me to bleed on you like I did last time you kicked me.

I woke up before you this morning and cooked your breakfast like I always do. I hoped you enjoyed the piss in your oatmeal and the blood I sucked from my lip mixed in your jelly. I watched you spread it on bread that I wiped my ass with before I put it in the toaster. I don't even want to tell you what I did with those sausages. I spit in your coffee and watched you eat, noticing the look on your face because you knew something wasn't right. And when you got through with your breakfast, I put your dishes in the sink but I wrapped the knife you used this morning in a napkin and put it in my pocket.

After you left I laughed. I laughed all the way to the bank and took out every penny and took advances on all our credit cards. I donated half of the money to a woman's shelter, all one hundred and twenty-thousand of it.

Now, you can pay back all the other women like me, those who had the strength to leave their man. Let those women get a pool table or something, hell, they deserve it. I took the rest and put it away for my children. I left some money for Greg so that he can pay for the counseling he's going to need to reverse the damage of seeing his father slamming his mother into the refrigerator. I sent the rest to Dana in college so that she would never need to come back home when she graduates. You are never going to touch my children again, I made sure of it. No, I am positive that you will not touch them again. So, I figured that with me gone you would run over to your little woman's house and tell her the good news. So I went over there this afternoon and I killed the bitch. I stabbed her little backstabbing ass dead in her heart with the knife you used this morning. And since there was a lot of screaming and shit I knew that the police would be there soon so I took that nasty ass condom you left inside of me and stuck it up in her ass. I know you didn't actually kill her but you might as well have. It's your fault that she's dead, so why should anyone else take the blame but you. And since you killed her after you just got through fucking her it won't seem premeditated so you will probably just get manslaughter and spend the rest of your life in jail.

They probably won't sentence you to death. But you will be OK. You got your high priced lawyers to defend you. The same lawyers that bribed a judge when they had you on charges of embezzlement from your firm. Remember you gave me those documents to shred? Well, I shredded most of them. I got up this morning and mailed the others I had saved out in the garage to the State's Attorney.

And since you've already killed someone you probably are going to jail for a long time anyway, so those papers are probably going to do much damage. But I had already mailed them before I thought about it.

Damm, you haven't been this quiet in a long time. In fact, I can't even remember when you've been so quiet before. I guess if all that I had to do was die to shut you up I should have killed myself long time ago. So, since I got your undivided attention, for a change, let me tell you what I want you to do. On one side of the computer screen there is a gun with one bullet in it.

On the other side is the telephone. You could A: call the police, turn yourself in and go to jail for the rest of your life. Or, B, you can take that gun and join me. It's up to you.

Don't worry about Greg, he is with your mother, you won't be seeing him again. You already killed your girlfriend so she'll do you no good either. You are about to lose your business and you are going to jail. Your wife will be mysteriously found dead in your office tomorrow morning. My body is still bruised and battered from when you beat me and your skin is under my fingernails from where I scratched your back last night. So shit doesn't look too good for you now. But as you said last night before you threw me into the wall I am a bitch. Well, ain't this a bitch. Oh, I know that you didn't think that I was going to die all by myself now did you? I already killed you motherfucker. You can either go to jail and get fucked up your ass for the rest of your life and have your man beat you around your jail cell like you did me. Until you die like me, after becoming the bitch you claimed me to be. Or you could take this gun and put one in your dome and kill yourself, it doesn't matter to me. Remember we said until death do us part right.

Moments pass. There is a click.

One gunshot breaks the silence and his body hits the floor. The roses he brought begin to rise in a pool of blood that spreads across the floor like a fan.

His wife steps out of the closet she was hiding in and calls the police. She steps over her husband, sits down at the computer and deletes the message on the screen. She brings up the suicide note that she wrote for him earlier. She gets rid of the empty pillbox and calls her mother-in-law to check on her children.

She hangs up the phone and calls his other woman and hangs up. The women calls back several times but she didn't answer. The police will assume that husband must have called her before he shot himself. She practiced all the lines out loud. When she heard the police pull up she kneeled beside the man that had once promised God that he was going to love and cherish her and felt nothing. That man was gone long ago and this body belonged to someone whom she didn't even know. She didn't feel any pain besides the tingling of her ribs.

She had no regrets either. She put him out of his misery and ended her own misery with just one bullet.

Yet, she knelt there and screamed like her life was over

Anonymous

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You HAVE to read this - revenge letter from an abused mother
« Reply #1 on: May 08, 2004, 07:12:14 AM »
So she had access to all that cash all along  :shock: and she still stayed  :shock:

She had documents to prove he was an imbezzler, which could have sent him to prison and got him out of her hair that way  :shock:

And she had enough physical damage to get a court order on him, and have him arrested, but she chose to stay and played this evil game instead.  :shock:

I don't believe it. I think she's a seriously deranged psychopath and needs jailing.

Sorry whoever posted this, but I can't relate at all.

I am a survivor, I repeat, survivor of a physically abusive relationship, not dissimilar to this. I had small children, and I was alone, no help at all. But I didn't play the victim or seek sick evil revenge. And I've done group workshops and conferences since, and never heard anyone talk like this. Maybe fantasise, but not this. That would have been my mother you wrote about.

But I'll tell you what I did. I called in the police, the swat team, the FBI the CIA, James Bond and Wonder Woman. I got every-bloody-body I could, who would listen, involved, after a couple of years, yes. I took that long. I even got my neighbours involved. And I sorted his sorry arse out good. He's a kitten now.

Once confronted with authority, like all cowards, he turned tail and ran, and agred to all our terms. He had, some by court order, all sorts of treatment programs and therapy.

What I just read was one sorry sick victim-mentality woman who turned self-righteous , self-justified perpetrator in a mega way. I have no sympathy for her whatsoever. I don't care what excuse she gives. She's a bloody criminal and a psychopath. Why didn't she just take the money and leave. And brother, do I pity her poor children, being left with a mother like that. Lord help them if they ever cross her.

CG

PS, personally I think it was a made up pile of crap. I've done many group classes for victims and survivors of domestic violence, and we're usually too afraid to do ANYTHING. Nowdays we know that the police will help us. It was all a bit too precise. And way too many angles covered. Not knee jerk and messy enough enough. Too too too too, what's the word I'm looking for, oh yes, fiction. And he was so compliant wasn't he? Slightly amusing, but I found it far too incredible. Sorry.

Wildflower

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You HAVE to read this - revenge letter from an abused mother
« Reply #2 on: May 08, 2004, 11:25:45 AM »
Quote
I don't believe it. I think she's a seriously deranged psychopath and needs jailing.

Sorry whoever posted this, but I can't relate at all.

personally I think it was a made up pile of crap. I've done many group classes for victims and survivors of domestic violence, and we're usually too afraid to do ANYTHING. Nowdays we know that the police will help us. It was all a bit too precise. And way too many angles covered. Not knee jerk and messy enough enough. Too too too too, what's the word I'm looking for, oh yes, fiction. And he was so compliant wasn't he? Slightly amusing, but I found it far too incredible. Sorry.


Yeah, I agree with CG here.  First, it has a bit "urban myth"ring to it.  I once wrote a revenge story about my dad, but it was just that.  A story.  A piece of fiction modeled after a Hitchcock story.  And there was hardly any violence in it.  And actually, I didn't even realize it was a revenge story until long after I'd written it.

But story or not, here's why I can't relate to the wife/mother in this story:  She didn't survive.  No matter how you look at it, she didn't survive.  If she had committed suicide, she wouldn't have been there to protect her children (in fact, she'd be adding to their trauma).  And by plotting murder, she became as evil as her husband who beat her.

You know that saying that goes, living well is the best revenge?  It's the truth.  I've also heard Maya Angelou say that of all the virtues, courage is the most precious and difficult.  With courage, all the other virtues are easy - and possible.

Finding the courage to heal - whatever it takes - instead of staying sick or staying in a sick relationship is survival.  Finding the courage to be yourself and take care of yourself and loved ones - whatever it takes - is survival.

But thanks for the story, longtimelurker.  It really made me think about this.

Wildflower
If you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million ways to be, you know that there are
-- Cat Stevens, from the movie Harold and Maude