After the arrest and subsequent separation from my husband. Which was what I had wanted all along, right? I mean, my husband could always talk me out of whatever decision I tried to make that he disagreed with. That is why I made the choice to step out because he had always told me that would be the deal breaker. That if cheating was ever an action between us, that we would be over.
So I decided. I made the choice. I did the unthinkable and I paid for that choice ten-fold.
The entire year following what Brent did to my daughter, my family, and I was spent in fear, terror and living under the thumb of a maniac and his mother. I spent every waking minute being contacted through text, phone calls, and emails; constantly being barraged with pleading, and threats and even coercion. The shear quantity of communications from Brent was unbelievable. Hundreds of texts in an hours time, calls at every few minutes interspersed with texts and emails.
I was kept on the phone for hours by this Brent maniac telling me what to do. How to pack, what lies to tell and how to conduct my life. Whenever I went to his house, because he would not let me have a moments peace, where he lived with his mother, I found out what and where hell as I knew would be redefined.
His mother threatened me, he had her do it and he also threatened me. They told me they would turn my mother in to the IRS for fraud because she was an accountant. They told me they would tell my husband about us and I laughed because I had already told him everything. Then they told me they would call child protective services and worsen the case against me. They told me they would call the state licensing board regarding my husbands license and how he was conducting fraud too.
I had learned that his mother and his sister, before she had died, that they had done just those things to other girls when other girls would get in the way of what her daughter wanted. This whole family was… wrong. More than wrong; evil.
Living with Fear for the ones that I loved the most… I had never let anyone have that much control over me. I was the strong one. I was the one that could walk away from anything and anyone.
Being adored those few short weeks and in between the threats and coercion I was off-kilter and in fear.
I did not know what to do or where to turn. I felt shame. I felt unworthy of my husbands attempts to reconnect and return to the fold. How could he really want me after I put our daughter in such danger. I could not let him make such a bad decision again. And believe me he tried.
During a visit where his mother made her threats very clear, Brent wanted to go out. We did. Brian started asking when I was going to be coming home to get the kids and I took the calls in a bathroom stall and somehow Brent freaked out and started making assumptions about what I was doing, so I told him the truth. My responsibility to my husband and kids still more of a priority than him. A mistake to be sure.
My honesty has always gotten me in more trouble than any lie ever has.
That night he kept his mother and I awake with his crazy ranting and raving. I was so tired. He would not let me sleep and he would not let me leave. That night was my first physical abusive encounter with a mad man.
He ended up telling me that he did not feel safe enough with me around him to go to sleep. His mother outside his bedroom door. He told me he would have to tie me up in order to feel safe enough to sleep. I told him no. NO! I repeated over and over eventually I yelled out to his mother whom replied, “Brent, no one is tying anyone up!”. He told her to shut up and he closed the door and locked it. Where he proceeded to find rope he had already in his room and tie me up in the most unusually skilled manner.
Rope around my neck that went from the back of my neck to my hands which he tied together behind my back then around my waist and between my legs which he wound around my arms then to my ankles which he tied with my knees bent. When the aches began in my legs I tried to stretch my legs out which I learned would choke me and simultaneously rub me awfully between my legs. Bending my legs back up would lessen the choke around my neck and rub again in a painful way between my legs.
He would pick me up and position me to my knees with my face on his mattress and on my knees with my feet almost against my rear end. Where he proceeded to… well rape is obviously what happened, but he did so in a manner in which no place was left untouched and moved the rope as he needed to reach where he wanted. Choking me and my words from me. He made it very difficult to say anything at all, but I did say no. Repeatedly, at a whisper which is all the rope allowed.
Afterwords, he slept. He left me there while he rested. When he woke, he tenderly untied me and rubbed the places on my wrists and ankles where the rope had left red marks and dents. Picked me up and took me to the shower where he washed me off and was so unbelievably nice about it.
He wanted to lay out on his dock on the lake where he boldly laughed and commented,
Wow, last night was kinda like rape, wasn’t it?
I looked at him as if he had grown three heads, because up until this point I had not said a word to him, but I replied to that rhetorical question with a firm, “yes it was!”. He just laughed.
A little while later I was packing and trying to leave when he began another tantrum about me leaving. We tousled and argued and his mother just sat there. He physically restrained me from leaving by sitting on top of me in the drivers seat of my car. Which I decided to try another tactic and say, “fine, I’ll stay, I’ll stay”. He got out still holding on to my arms. It was getting late and I needed to leave, so that I can get back to my kids. At one point, I grabbed his phone and threw it as hard as I could across the yard thinking he would run after it and I could run to my car and make a run for it.
It did not work. Brian called and I answered and quickly, in front of his mother and Brent, shouted, “he won’t let me leave, Brian, I don’t know what to do, he won’t let me leave” which is when Brent dove for me and my phone and hung up on him. I had already said I was going to call the cops and that was when his mother told me that she would tell them that I was drunk or on drugs or whatever to make sure that it would not be home that I would get to go to, but jail.
After everything that they had threatened me with and followed through with, I believed her. I believed they would follow through with everything they said.
This situation lasted much longer than one day or one week, but months on end. I did not know what to do. I was shamed and felt unable to talk to my mother, my husband, or anyone. My reputation in tatters who would help me anyway? This is how I felt.
Ashamed and embarrassed and unable to ask for help. Until one day I had had enough and felt at the end of my rope, literally. I told my mom everything. Well, almost everything, I left out the physical abuse. I told her about all the threats. I told her what they said they would do to her, Brian and my kids. She told me she was not scared of them and if they said they would do something to her regarding her job, she said, “let them, any investigation would prove naught and it was just as illegal to turn in a false report as it was to be doing something wrong.” She is the most ethical person I know.
It was not until this conversation that I finally had the courage to get away.
And there was so much that happened in between this conversation and the arrest that it would take a year to tell it all, but for now this was all I needed to hear to give me the strength to go no contact.