“Get ‘Em Young, Treat ‘Em Rough, and Teach ‘Em to Dance.”

These are the only photos I have of us close to the age we were when this particular drunken binge took place; at that time I was 18 and he was 38 years old. In the photos, I’m 19 years old and he is 45.

One afternoon, while I was living in the alley near RJ, he and I started drinking Stolichnaya from his freezer. Deborah was still living with him; by the time she came home, we were already quite happy. I don’t know if Rhonda and Tom, RJ’s sister and her boyfriend (eventual husband), had plans to come over but they did. Maybe the visit was spontaneous, but the party grew. The first bottle was killed and another procured. I think it was rum, maybe whiskey?

The problem with day drinking

Booze, cigarettes and no food gave the party a belligerent, lightheaded edge. Only flashes of that night are left. This one is burned in my memory. It came back to me when I was writing about Rhonda in the Legal Update post. Much more needs to be remembered, I am sure. Hopefully any flashbacks caused by poking about will be gentle with me.

I remember sitting at RJ’s kitchen table. RJ was standing next to Tom and they surveyed me like a piece of meat. I had been here before. I had posed for this kind of scrutiny many times during this kind of conversation. RJ liked to brag about me and my devotion, his training, blah, blah, blah. One of the RJ’s favorite sayings was “Get ’em young, treat ’em rough, and teach ’em to dance.” I was an example of his success.

At the time, Tom came off as a country boy, and at that time RJ liked Tom and credited him for saving his sister’s life. I only knew a little about it, but until Tom came along RJ always acted like his sister was a big fuck up. Later, RJ would fight with Tom. RJ has issues about being the alpha male in the room as he always believes he should be. This night was early days though, and I was part of his accomplishments.

Are you my family?

I was glad to be with RJ’s family. He never wanted me around them and I used to think it was because I was such a big fuck up. Now I understand it differently. Rhonda never got close to me, because of RJ’s doing or by choice, but she was always civil. Tom was one of the few older men to come around who never made a pass at me. I have no ill will for either of them. Rhonda loves her brother, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t also see him for who he is. (I also had a relationship with RJ’s first daughter when she was 14 and I was 17 years old. I’m keeping her out of this purposefully. She has suffered enough.)

Back to that night

The only thing I remember Tom saying was ”She has really big eyes.” RJ looked at me and smirked, like “Listen to this yokel.” My eyes weren’t the usual compliment to come out of these interactions.

Then the next thing I remember I was on the living room floor in the corner and the light was dim. Rhonda and Deb were sitting in front of me, trapping me in the corner, talking to me. I remember a hand reaching between them and grabbing my ankle. RJ got a hold of my leg and dragged me out of the room, down the hall and into the bathroom.

He caught me by the hair and jammed his fingers down my throat. I puked, repeatedly. He did it four more time, whenever I stopped throwing up, until only bile came up. He was angry and there was some yelling in the background, but it was like a megaphone in the distance. He kept asking me, “What did you tell them? Come on, what did you tell them?” as he yanked my head back and forth. At some point, he left me to clean myself up from the bile, snot, and tears. Somehow I made it back to my bed.

Aftermath

The next day I was not the only one who felt like shit, badly hung over and traumatized. When I spoke to RJ, he wanted to know what I had told them.

He said that he had found me being grilled by the two women and he had pulled me out to save me and I believed him. He didn’t have to ask me if I had told them about his having sex with me as a minor, or sex trafficking me at 17; I knew what he meant. I have no more idea now than I did then if I said anything. If I did I don’t know if anyone was any more coherent than I was at that point. No one said or did anything about it if I did tell.

I remember being scared for awhile after that night, waiting for the hammer to drop on me, waiting for someone to tell RJ something I didn’t remember telling them. I could imagine what he would do to me if I broke his confidence. What an idiot, right? Realizing the truth now about even small stuff like this is mortifying. I always thought I was kind of smart. Ha! I had invested everything in my relationship with RJ way before I turned 18. Although I was scared of him I would have done anything to protect him.

Back then I was grateful that he had kept me from getting into trouble. RJ has always been “saving” me and “taking care” of me. That was and still is his story line.

Resource

If you wonder why people stay silent about domestic abuse. Here is short article from the HuffPo, and there are plenty more online. Mix this with the love bombing, financial and spiritual support and it is amazing I ever woke up to the truth. I believed RJ was going to kill me most life and I didn’t fully realize this until I left.