The Monster Lurking Amongst Us
There is a monster lurking amongst us. You can’t see it, smell it, touch it or even taste it but it is always there. Always hiding in the shadows waiting for the chance to strike. One of the scariest things about this monster is that it doesn’t strike without warning usually. There are signs and clues right up to the moment it happens. What is this monster you wonder? The monster is violence, specifically violence against women and the most disturbing fact is that it touches everyone’s life in some shape or form. No one is immune to it.
Nov 25 is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. To mark this day, my confession tonight is to share how the monster has personally touched my life. I will warn you that this is a bit graphic and disturbing but I feel the need to tell the story, to acknowledge the monster.
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It was Saturday, a regular afternoon summer day and it seemed like nothing special. I had gone grocery shopping with my mother and we were on the way back to my place, casually chit chatting about this and that. My cell phone buzzed letting me know that I had an email or an instant message of some sort. It was a message from my best friend who lives in another city and it was a picture. I waited for it upload and once done, I stared at the small screen trying to figure out what she had sent to me. It was obviously a picture of herself but because of the sun, the small screen, etc, I couldn’t quite make out fully what she was showing me and why. My phone buzzed again and the text of her message made it crystal clear.
“Tora, Shane beat me up last night. I am hurt pretty bad.”
My heart stopped, before kicking into high gear, my breathing becoming laboured. The fear that rushed through me was almost crippling. Trying to remain calm I told my mother to hold on a second, I had to phone Ellen. I struggled to type in her phone number and I am sure I held my breath as I waited for her answer. The voice that came on the line was quiet and not full of its usual life. My heart continued to pound as I asked her where Shane was, praying she was going to say that he was in jail. She informed that she had not told anyone but me including the police. I argued with her, demanding why; giving her the points that he could do it again to someone else if she didn’t report it, if she was this hurt, she needed medical attention, etc. The tone in her voice made my blood run cold with a new surge of fear. She was quiet, calm, very much the opposite of your usual passionate, animated self as she explained that it was over and she was not going to let anyone else know what happened. She wanted to stop thinking about it, heal and carry on with her life.
At this point we had reached my place and I told Ellen that I would phone her back in a few; I had to bring the groceries into the house, etc. I ended the call and the flood of emotion that I tried to keep dammed spilled over. Tears flowed down my face. I cried for the pain that Ellen had just been subjected to. I cried for my inability to be there for her physically. I cried for my frustration of her not reporting the incident and getting the help she needed. I cried for the fear that this incident had changed my friend; that she would not return but stay withdrawn. She had been through so much in the last few months with her father’s death, issues with her condo, and problems with work; I was afraid that this was the final blow. My mother sat with me silently as I cried before asking me what exactly was wrong. I told her that Ellen had been beaten up and she was refusing to see a doctor, refusing to have the police involved. My mother was quiet for a moment or two before saying that if Ellen didn’t want help, there were only two options. I could report the incident myself or I could accept that she wasn’t going to and just be there for her as much as I could. I wiped my face and sighed. I could only go with option two I told her. I didn’t know Shane’s last name, I had no idea where he lived or worked. Doubt that Ellen would fork over that information now. I could have the police go to Ellen’s condo but what if she didn’t answer the door? Not like they would break it down without having justified cause; she was not in danger now. We both sat there for another silent moment, letting the consequences of option two sink in.
“Well the hell with that.” I growled. “Will see what I can get out of her when I talk to her again.” My mother nodded, knowing that I would not resolve myself to option two without a fight. I was determined to get her to report the incident or at least give me enough information that I could report it. We took in the groceries and my mother left. I sent my son downstairs to watch TV in his room and I went into my bedroom, closing the door to call Ellen again.
Again I started with the interrogation, demanding that she report the incident, see a doctor. I pleaded with her to at least tell her sister who lived in the same city. I could not be the only one who could know about this; she needed to tell someone who could get her help. In that chilling calm, distant voice she told me the extend of her injuries. She was covered in brusies pretty much from her neck down from where he had kicked and hit her with his fists. She had bruises on her neck where he tried to choke her. She couldn’t move her shoulder because it had swollen so badly; a goose egg had formed and she nearly passed out from the pain the last time she tried to raise it. He had thrown her against the counter in the kitchen.She had cut marks on her neck and shoulders from where he had held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her. Surprisely he had not touched her face. She told me she had not slept yet because it hurt to lie down. She had just sat in the chair she was in, working up the nerve to call me.
As I listened to her, the fear and sadness I first felt, was burned away with the surge of anger that now inflamed me. I wanted to find Shane, make him pay for what he had done. What was the saying? I wanted to saddle the horses, round up my posse and string this man up from the nearest tree. I wanted to hurt him, make him feel every blow he had inflicted on Ellen. He was lucky I thought that he didn’t live in the same city as me, that he wasn’t just a drive away. I closed my eyes and muted the phone as I growled so that Ellen would not hear me. I sat breathing in and out of my nose slowly, trying to calm myself. Getting angry and wanting revenge would do nothing for Ellen. In fact, it would make me just as bad as him. How could two wrongs make a right?
I unmuted on the phone and pleaded for her to go to the hospital. I was worried that her shoulder was broken, maybe some cracked ribs. She refused saying it was over, she was done. She was not reporting it, she was not going through it again with the doctors, police, and eventually court. She just wanted to heal and move on. She told me that she was worried about hiding it at work; it was August afterall and people were going to notice her wearing a turtleneck. I said people would notice and wonder, maybe she should stay home. She said she had booked off that day already and because she was not paid for being off, she couldn’t afford it. I said then go to the hospital and get them to say you need time off; you get paid when you have to be off for an extended medical leave. She again refused. She didn’t want anyone to know. She kept repeating that she just wanted to move on, it was done.
I sighed, sad again that she felt like so many other victims of violence; shameful, wanting to forget, hide, pretend it hadn’t happened. But I wasn’t going to let it just go at that; I was her best friend and had been so for over 10 years now. If I didn’t at least try and push her to say something, than I was not really her friend. I threatened to call her mother and she simply stated she can’t know. She could not tell her mother; have her mother upset so soon after her father’s death. Fine, I agreed but she needed to tell her sister. She worked in the medical field and she would at least be able to assess her injuries; plus she lived in the same city. I said I would feel better if her sister knew since she was nearby and could be called easier than me if something else happened. She refused that too. NO ONE was to know.
She said she was tired and was going to hang up to try and sleep. I made her promise to phone me later. After hanging up the phone I sat thinking about my options. Should I attempt to phone the police? Should I call her sister or mother? Should I risk our friendship by telling her secret? I resolved that I would honour her wishes at least for now and not tell anyone else. I did manage later on to convince her to tell her sister and all of three of us have kept the secret until today.
You can judge that I failed her by not trying to attempt to report it but in the end, I feel that I was the better friend by proverbially holding her hand and listening to her. You did not hear the sheer desperation in her voice when she begged me not to tell anyone. It broke my heart to hear her like that; how could I betray her trust? I knew that if I had told anyone, our friendship would be over. Would you risk it?
Believe me, I am not happy that she did not report it and I tried for a week after she told me to talk her into it; but as my mother pointed out, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. I was passionate about this topic before Ellen and I will continue to be passionate about it now even more. It is because of this passion that I am acknowledging the monster lurking amongst us. If by some chance someone listening or reading this and in a similar situation realizes that he/she is not alone and finds the courage to get help, than what happened to Ellen was not in vain. Each time we acknowledge the monster, it is less likely to strike again.
The End
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