A Typical Weedend

I was pregnant with Jacob, about three months along. As usual, we were arguing about the kids. His son had come to visit for the weekend and my daughter and I were always forgotten when he was around. Despite my love for that sweet, young boy and the fact the problem lies within his father; I dreaded his visits. It was the same every time. My daughter and I were stuck alone at the house while they went out to have fun. She would stay crying because she knew she was missing out and she wanted to see her brother. It broke my heart to see her being treated unfairly. Didn't he realize that we wanted to be a part of them? We had become a family but he kept us divided. Usually, I didn't do much other than pout, but this time I wasn't going to allow him to leave without us. I was foolish enough to think that since I had recently become his wife, that I might have gained enough respect to have my voice be heard. I knew the second he got that look on his face and told me to go into the bedroom that I had made a mistake. my heart was beating out of my chest and my legs became wobbly as I began to follow him in. He never argued in front of his son. At first, it seemed he was just really annoyed. He was asking a lot of questions: "why do you always have to complain," "why do you have to ruin the weekend..." I tried to hold my ground by explaining my reasons. I just answered his questions. What else could I do? I was upset and crying, as usual. He kept telling me to lower my voice. As he continued threatening me from inches away from my voice in the devil's whisper I had become accustomed to. This was upsetting me even more. He never lowered his voice when his son wasn't there. Why did that little boy make all the difference? My daughter deserved the same respect. Her sweet soul had to see and hear what happened in that home; she didn't deserve that either!! And so I let him know. LOUDLY!! After all, I'm only human. A person can only take so much before they snap. Although I don't know if you would call my reaction 'snapping' in comparison to his. I yelled, "What's so special about him? My daughter has to hear and see it, let him!" And so he did. He yelled in my face, "I hate you, you fucking bitch!"then he grabbed me by the arm and threw me on the bed; only he missed and I hit the wall before falling to bed. He stormed back out into the living room and announced: "it looks like we aren't going anywhere today." He picked up my daughter, who was standing at the door crying by this time. He sat with her on the couch. I quickly put myself back together and sat myself on the opposite couch and next to his son who, obviously was in shock. My baby girl was crying so much. She was reaching out for me and he wouldn't let her come to me. "No, you don't want to be with Mommy. She just wants to fight," he told her. And another surge of courage hit me. I got up and firmly told him to give me my daughter as I tried to pry her from his arms. He pulled my arm, pulling my pregnant belly into the arm of couch. It immediately started to hurt and cramp. As I was held over the couch, he punched me in the back three times. Our children sat inches away from us. I retreat. After about ten minutes of silence. He got up off the couch, told his son to get his shoes on and began getting my daughter ready to leave. All the while cursing me and explaining that I was to be left alone today. I headed for the doorway telling him that I would not allow him to leave with my daughter. Without saying a word, he back-handed me. Then he calmly said, "I'm sorry [son]." I begged him to take his son and go about their day. "I'm sorry. I should have just let you go. Please just go!," I sobbed. As usual, my apology opened the door for him to verbally bash me even further. "This is all your fault," "you couldn't just let things be..." I was left all alone and feared for my daughter. I spent the next two hours calling him repeatedly and searching the area for them. I let him know that I called the police and they were looking for my daughter. He returned her five minutes later and left again with his son. After two days had passed, I prayed that it was over.