Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [117]
I could see the panic on his face when he realized what time it was. Grabbing my hand, he hurried us out of the room and down to the resort restaurant. But the door to the fancy Rainbow Room was already closed, and Allen grew quietly upset. He’d wanted to make this a special night for us, and he was feeling like he’d blown it. I was so embarrassed when he started knocking on the door of the restaurant, pleading with the hostess to let us come in and have a meal. His polite request was denied, and we ended up sharing our second-anniversary dinner at a local Denny’s. I was more amused than upset. I guess being a bit older made it easier for me to understand what it was that he’d been trying to do. I also knew how easy it was to get caught up in the novelty of television, since it was strictly forbidden in our community.
The next day, I did catch Allen’s attention by wearing a pair of pants that I’d purchased during a shopping trip to St. George with Kassandra before she fled. When I put them on, he cautiously asked me, “Why are you wearing those?”
“Because I want to wear them out here on the beach,” I said with an air of defiance. I was certain that my pants were not the only articles of clothing Allen was objecting to. I was also wearing a short-sleeved pink T-shirt that revealed the skin on my arms. Clothing such as pants and shirts for women were strictly forbidden. But he saved his comment about the shirt until our ride home that afternoon. “Please don’t wear it again,” he requested as he steered his truck north along the highway.
After that anniversary, Allen continued to try to follow my mother’s advice and pressured me less, but it was just a matter of weeks before his old behavior returned. For my part, I was trying to obey him as best I could. While I understood his efforts to be more considerate of my needs, nothing could change the fact that I didn’t love him. I still slept at Uncle Fred’s when I could, and I still tried to minimize the amount of time I spent with Allen. When I was home, all that I gave to him was my physical presence. We were living together, but emotionally we were separate. There seemed to be no connection except for his continued sexual advances. When I returned to the trailer, I always knew what was going to happen and I tried to prepare myself. My goal was to avoid conflict with him, but he grew more frustrated by the day, angry that his change in attitude had failed to sway my heart.
Eventually, his frustration would boil over, making many of our disagreements heated and severe. Over the course of a few weeks, his kind demeanor crumbled and his assumed authority as my priesthood leader returned with a vengeance. I did my best to fight him off, but there were times I had no choice but to submit. Some of our arguments culminated in physical struggles. He’d slap me or push me up against the wall. I didn’t understand why he was behaving that way. One minute he would threaten me, the next he was trying to hug me. Once he even hurled a lamp in my direction. Luckily, I didn’t get hurt. It frustrated me that no one could see the Allen that I saw behind closed doors. People would reprimand me for my unaffectionate attitude toward him, but they didn’t understand how he treated me when no one was watching.
To protect myself, I’d grown more stubborn in my unwillingness to do as he wished. I wanted to move my things into the other bedroom and take a break from him. He was furious and lost his temper. He chased after me, and I ran into the second bedroom and tried to close the door behind me. But Allen kicked it in, and the door struck me in the eye. I woke up the next morning with a shiner.
This was not the only time that I’d sustained a bodily injury. My five feet two inches and 145 pounds were no match for his broad frame. At just below six feet, Allen towered over me, and he weighed more than 220 pounds. There was little I could do to stop him once he’d set his mind to having things his way—especially when it came to sex. In the bedroom he’d get rough