Sue Brooks' Blog

Sue Brooks July 11th, 2010

I decided I will devote some space to purely personal musings. I do enjoy writing when I have the time and hope that readers will share this opportunity for some personal reflections and meanderings. Who knows where we will end up!
I’ll leave this section of the blog open to comment also but the home page will remain the place for Council related and political or media related discussions.

Today is White Ribbon Day. I wrote this recently…

IN THE NIGHT, HE COMES

 The crunch of tyres on the gravel. He is here. Depressed, angry, unhappy. Drunk again?What can she do? What should she say? She doesn’t want him here. This is her house, her tiny little house. She has borrowed and begged from the bank and this house is her house.  It is for her and her children and not for him. It is away from him. But the kids like to see their daddy. He stays a while and then says he is going down to the pub. She is on alert. He doesn’t ever go to the pub so why now? She is uneasy, restless, worried. Puts the kids to bed and waits. Something makes her get up off the couch. She finds her spare car key, removes it from the tag and puts it carefully and safely in the pocket of her jeans. She isn’t sure why she is doing this. She has never felt like this before. She is worried. She is tense. She is restless. She fears a storm is coming. What should she do. What should she do when he comes back. She does not want to argue, to squabble. She wants him to go away and leave her alone. When he comes back he will be drunk. He will be drunk. Again! The kids are in bed and nothing bad has happened before. Why should it happen now?

 The minutes tick by. Slowly, slowly, slowly and he returns. Straight away she knows she is in trouble. She knows tonight is different. Tonight is not like all the other nights. Time passes. It passes.  She has no idea how long but she knows that this night she is in a fight for her life. He is a monster, a strange beast. He is no longer him.  Hitting, punching. Pleading, begging. Cajoling, soothing… but nothing, nothing, nothing is working. She offers sex, she offers living back together, she pleads, she cries but oh the children. The children can hear. They can hear this. The children can hear the words the children can hear the sounds. She must not cry. She must not whimper. She must survive she must protect her kids. She must survive. But she can’t fight back. He is strong. She is weak. She can’t fight back… and her words are not working. They just aren’t working. Not working…. Nothing she says is working and she is curled up tightly. As tightly as tightly as she can into a tiny, tiny ball… so it hurts less, just a little bit less, a little bit less. Please make it stop. Make it stop. Someone please make it stop. Kids are crying. Kids are crying. She can hear her kids crying and crying….. 

But now it isn’t just yelling and hitting. He says he is going to kill her. He says a knife will be his weapon. He says the knife will cut. He says the knife will stab and the knife will twist. He will twist the knife inside her. He goes to the kitchen she jumps up but he sees her. Hitting, punching, yelling, yelling, yelling. This time she makes herself ….calm. Still. Be calm and think. Think. Think.  

Her mind is working in overdrive. Have to get out. Have to get out. Have to get out. Can she survive if she runs and jumps through the window? Will the glass cut her? Cut her worse than a knife can? Again he leaves to go to the next room, the kitchen, to get… the knife? She makes herself wait. She can see his reflection in the window. She sits still till he is properly in the other room, all the way into the room. As far away, as far away from her as he can be….  so she will have a tiny, tiny, tiny little bit more time. He is at the kitchen drawers. The drawer where the knife is.  

 Then she simply flies. She flies, flies. Flees, flees. Yes the door knob works. Yes she is outside. She is panting. She is thinking.  Can he see me, can he see me, can he see me? He is in the house yelling. He opens the back door and he is looking. Looking. Looking. She is frozen. She is still. As still as she can be in the dark, dark night. How can she leave the kids? She has the car key, oh thank God the car key is still in her pocket. It has not fallen out. She has the key in her hand. Can she leave the kids? Will he find me out here  in the dark? Can she leave the kids? She stays still watching, listening. The house is quiet. The kids are quiet. What to do? Can’t stay in the garden all night. Time is passing, passing. She knows she needs help. 

Creeping, creeping, creeping to her car. She knows if she opens the door the light will come on. Will he see it? Will he hear her? Can he see her? Plan, plan, plan. Think, think, think. Neighbours are too far. What can they do? No one has come with the yelling. Must go to the policeman. Must drive to the policeman. He will help her. But when she shuts the door he will hear. He will hear. 

At the car now. Get ready. Are all the doors unlocked? Yes they are. Why didn’t she lock them earlier? She opens the door.  Ever so slowly, ever so quietly. She switches off the little light. The house is quiet. The house is still and quiet. No sounds. No noise. She gets in. Watching, watching the front door, the house.  She is sitting in her car now. She has locked 3 doors but when she shuts her door he will hear. Get ready. Key in the ignition. Car in reverse gear. Foot on clutch. Shut door and lock it. Must pull the door hard so it will lock. Cannot let him inside the car. Can’t let him get her. Cannot. But the car door will make a noise. Don’t turn the head lights on. No lights. Will the car start? If it doesn’t start she has no plan. No plan. Turn the key. Turn the key. The engine works. The car starts. He comes. He runs, he explodes. He bangs on the car. He pulls at the door. She drives backwards. Can she go forward and hit him? Kill him? Squish him, squash him. Slam into him? End it? Kill him. NO.. She can’t. He is their father… He is their father….. still! 

She drives backwards.. Still he comes. Yelling, hitting the car. She just keeps going. Back, back and turning and now forwards. She drives away to the police mans house. The kids will be OK. The kids will be OK. The kids will be OK. He loves them he won’t hurt them. He loves them surely he will not hurt them. I can’t lose my kids. How can I save my kids and stay alive? I have to get help. I have to get help! Please God look after my kids. Please God I beg you look after my kids. Please, please care for my kids. They will be OK. They MUST be OK. She will not live if her kids are not OK. 

Driving fast. Don’t crash. Don’t crash. The policeman comes to his door but it takes him …. time… an eternity. He asks is there a gun? She does not know. She says not on him or she would be dead. The policeman has to get dressed. Time is passing. Time is her enemy. Time when her kids might not be OK! He keeps asking about a gun. He is taking forever. Hurry, she says please, oh please just hurry. Please come back to the house. Back to the house. They have to go back to the house quickly. Has he got a gun he says? Hurry please she says… The kids! Can you ring him so he is busy and can’t be hurting her kids? Can I ring him while you get ready? No he won’t ring. He won’t call. He takes forever to dress and to come to his car and to follow her as she drives and leads him back to the house. 

The house is dark. No sound, no sound, no sound. No generator. The generator was on when she ran. The house was in light. But now there is no light. Please, let my kids be OK. The words just repeat, repeat and repeat in her head. Oh God let my kids be OK. She just goes up the steps and straight in. He sits there. He has a lamp on the table and her son on his knee. Her son says… “Mummy please don’t let the policeman put Daddy in jail! Don’t let the policeman take Daddy away”. The policeman says… “What’s going on here?” She says he must go. He must go. He must go away. He must leave them alone. Tell him to go. Please make him go. Make him go away and never come back! He says it is his house. She says NO. This is my house. The policeman seems confused. She says he has hit her. Threatened her. Hurt her. But he just smiles quietly and holds his son closer. Her son. Her son. She takes the policemans hand and places it on her head. Feel the bumps. Feel the swellings under her hair. She asks him…. “Do you think I did this to myself?” 

What to do. Leave. Go home to mum and dad. Put the children in the car. Take nothing. Don’t have enough money for petrol. Will the petrol station be open this late? Policeman tells her which one to go to. The policeman is not helping. Does he care? Does he believe her? It’s just a tiff is what she thinks he thinks. He probably thinks she deserved it she thinks! 

She drives away. Away. Safely away. Her kids are safe. They are whole. They are safe. They are together with her.  Now come the tears. Silent rivers cascade down but she talks to the kids and tries to smile and tells them they are going on a night time adventure to grandads house. She tells them their Daddy will be OK. They are worried about….. him. They are worried about their Daddy! Her monster, her monster is still their Daddy. She asks the petrol station attendant for petrol. She offers her watch, her licence. Tells him she has to flee. He gives her petrol and says to come back and pay when she can. She drives through the night. Safety. Her Mum and her Dad awoken. She is safe. The kids are safe… For now!

Sue Brooks

18/8/11

 

This is the first time I have written about this night. It happened a very, very, very long time ago. Back in the early 80′s. But writing this was so very, very difficult. Difficult because even now the tears still come and the keyboard became a blur. And the night is seared into my memory. I can never forget it.

I was so very, very lucky. We all survived that night. So many others don’t!

I long for a world where wives do not need to fear their husbands. Women their partners or ex partners. Where men do not lose control and act in insane ways. I could not fight back. Men are stronger than we are.

But I am far from a victim. The experience strengthened me and helped shape the person I am today. When something bad happens to you you do not automatically become a victim. You only become a victim if you let yourself be one. Yes you need help but with time and help you can grow into the strongest, toughest and much more resilient survivor. Ask for help but focus on the future. Every day I am thankful that my kids are alive and that I am alive and well. Without them life would be unbearable… I am ever, ever so lucky.

I have no idea if this story, my story, can help anyone. I hardly speak of my experience because it is personal, it effects my kids and also because I am not sure if it helps anyone to talk about it…. So why write now? I don’t know. Maybe enough time has passed? Maybe I reckon the kids are old enough now to learn of that night from my perspective. I always tried very hard to never portray their father too much in the negative as he was basically a very decent man. But most of all I am sick and tired of the media portraying victims of rape and victims of bullying and victimes of violence as forever victims. I detest being thought of as anything other than ordinary. I have strengths and failings. Good aspects of personality and weknessses also. In other words I believe I am no different from most people. My messgae is to get help when you need it and to always, always believe in yourself. No matter how much of a failure you think you are just keep going one day at a time and the good times will come! But never ever tolerate violence of any sort, physical or mental!

 

 

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