The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [57]
When hitting wasn’t effective anymore, he moved on to control. He began locking me in his garage or bathroom so I couldn’t leave. Sometimes he’d push me out the front door and tell me to leave, but as I started walking down the street, he would come running after me. When I went back, he’d act as if nothing had happened. I always went back, too—back to his house, the abuse, and him.
We would be kissing pretty heavily and he would get a little too excited. He would want to have sex and I always told him I wasn’t ready. He would start pulling my clothes off, saying, “We are going to do this!” Then he would just stop and push me aside and order me to get dressed.
He made me so nervous, that I would get sick, literally sick. When he called and I heard his voice over the phone I would get this nauseous feeling all over my body. Then when I was on my way to his house it would get worse. My stomach would turn and I would have to ask whoever was driving to pull over so I could get some fresh air. I threw up a few times before I even left my house, and twice at his house. He thought that I had a nervous stomach. He never knew it was because of him.
I still don’t know why this happened or how things got so bad. It got to the point that I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell anyone. Every time we were together, it seemed to get worse. The worst point of the relationship was when he ran after me with a butcher knife, yelling “I’m gonna kill you!”
The whole time this was happening it felt like a bad dream. A dream I could never wake up from. Unfortunately, we gave each other what we were both missing. He had anger all built up inside that he needed to release on someone and I was a ball of emotions just looking for someone to love me. He was the security I needed.
We were like a fire triangle, he was the oxygen, I was the flame, and together we made the fuel. All mixed together we were a fire. Somehow we needed each other to keep going. It ended like someone pouring water on our fire. It went out all of a sudden and without warning.
As fast as it started, it was out.
Diary 64
Dear Diary,
Reading The Color Purple really makes me uncomfortable because Celie is always getting beaten up by Mister. Every time I read about Celie being beaten up, I flashback to when my mother was recently beat by my alcoholic stepdad.
I always knew I had to be careful and protect my mom because my stepdad is a professional alcoholic. He is a little guy, but when he’s drunk, his size doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care about anything and tries to destroy anything that gets in his way. When he’s drunk, he really scares me, so I try to keep him in control. Unfortunately, that doesn’t always work.
Things were starting to get pretty hostile between them, so I made it a point to come home from school as soon as possible. One day when I got home my mom told me that things were already out of control and that he’d been yelling at her. We went to my aunt’s house for dinner to let him cool off.
Later that night, as I was lying in bed thinking about what we’d read in Ms. G’s class earlier, I began to think about my mom in the other room. My mother, like Celie, could not defend herself against a drunken alcoholic. I felt that I should stay up and listen for any arguments that may arise.
Suddenly the book came to life when I heard her calling for me. Seconds later, I heard thump! slap! and “Get off me!” She called for me. When I opened the door, he was holding her arms down slapping and hitting her. Without even thinking I rushed to him and threw him off her. I took a quick glimpse as she ran out the door and I could see her eyes were full of tears and fear. My body raged with anxiety and anger.
I could feel my stomach twisting and turning, and my hands