My Husband Needs a Lecture

My husband, Sean Blair, was in the hospital, and I either pointed a knife at his neck or tried to strangle him with a rope.

Sometimes, I would even release some venomous-looking insects on his bed.

Each time, he would wake up in terror, but he didn't dare yell at me. Instead, he'd admit his mistakes, crying and begging me for a divorce.

But I disagreed and treated him like he had treated me before.

"You love me so much. If I got rid of you, where would I ever find another husband as 'perfect' as you?"

1

When I was a child, I never understood why victims of domestic violence chose to endure it.

That was until this year, during Christmas, when I met Sean on a blind date. He was a handsome, refined man with a gentle demeanor.

I was attracted by his appearance and his gentleness, and under his pursuit, we quickly fell in love.

But everything changed on our wedding night.

When Sean pulled out a belt, I frowned deeply. "It's late at night. Why are you holding a belt?"

Sean didn't answer. Before I could react, the belt lashed across my body.

The pain made me cry out, "Sean, are you insane?"

He stared at me silently and kept hitting me. Terrified, I ran toward the door.

But the door was locked, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't open it.

Sean advanced step by step, his eyes filled with a menacing glare. "Mabel, you bitch. You're asking for it. I love you so much, and yet you're flirting with other men."

I was confused, thinking he must have misunderstood something. I hurried to explain.

But his next words sent a chill down my spine.

"Slut. During the ceremony earlier, wasn't the emcee good-looking? You couldn't take your eyes off him, could you?"

I didn't know how to respond. That man was the emcee. I was just listening to him. Wasn't that normal?

Hearing my explanation only made Sean hit me harder. "Mabel, how dare you talk back when I call you a slut? Tonight, I'll beat you to death."

The door was locked, and Sean's tall, long-legged frame, the traits I once loved about him, now became tools to trap me.

I couldn't escape. All I could do was beg for mercy. In the end, he beat me until I didn't even have the strength to cry out.

Maybe he got tired. After throwing the belt aside, he reached for me. I flinched in fear, but he grabbed my hair and dragged me to the bed.

Tears streamed down my face from the pain, but he tore at my clothes without hesitation. "I'll spare you this time, but if you dare cross me again, you're dead."

I was too weak to resist and could only endure his violence. My lack of response angered him further, and he violated me.

I was disheartened and allowed him to abuse me, which made him unhappy.

He choked me and cursed me until my cries of pain finally brought a twisted smile to his face.

I was in so much pain I wished for death. I swore to myself that I'd file for divorce the next day.

That night, perhaps afraid I'd retaliate, he tied me up tightly before falling into a deep sleep.

I lay awake all night, my body aching, my mind racing for a way to escape him.

But the pain all over my body made it impossible for me to concentrate.

In the morning, he stretched lazily and, seeing the fear in my eyes, smirked with satisfaction.

"Fear keeps you in line. Now go make me breakfast. If you try anything funny, I'll kill your entire family." After saying this, he untied the belt binding me, and kicked me. "What are you standing there for? Trying to starve me to death?"

I couldn't believe it. Just yesterday, he was a gentle, refined man. How had he turned into this monster overnight?

Noticing my confusion, he chuckled. "What are you thinking? Let me tell you something. If you behave, I'll treat you like I used to. But if you act out again, I'll beat you to death.

Don't think about leaving me, and don't think about going back to tell your parents. If you're not afraid of me killing them, just go ahead and tell them."

I couldn't figure it out. But my parents were in poor health, and I didn't dare tell them.

Besides, it was clear Sean wouldn't let me leave easily.

To avoid another beating, I went to make breakfast. But my whole body ached, and my slow movements irritated him.

When I finally finished cooking, he noticed my red, tear-filled eyes and slapped me hard. Grabbing my hair, he forced me to kneel before him.

I couldn't fight back and endured another round of violence. In the end, he pressed me to the ground, forcing me to kneel.

He slapped my face and sneered, telling me to behave. By then, I was numb from the beatings, thinking it might be better if he just killed me.

But just as I was about to give up entirely, his parents called, announcing they were coming to visit.