SARATOGA SPRINGS – Erica knew fear, the kind of fear that changes the world around you and how you see, think and react. It is not a fear like one of spiders or clowns or of the dark. This kind of fear is one that illogically immobilizes while at the same time, sends adrenaline coursing through the veins, heightening senses and setting the mind racing. It is the kind of fear that is a constant companion lurking in the shadows of the mind waiting to be unleashed.
She wasn’t always this way. Erica had a wonderful childhood and came from a family with strong bonds. She was popular in school and excelled at everything she tried. But when she was 16, her world was set in motion to change how she thought, how she lived, even how she dreamed.
Erica met John (for Erica’s protection, these are not their real names) when she was 16 and he was 24. She had been visiting family for the summer in Long Island and he was a neighbor who immediately took a liking to the pretty brown-eyed teen.
“The first thing John asked me was, ‘Hey you! When are you going to marry me?’” Erica said, a faint smile briefly crossing her face. “I said right back, ‘Never, you’re too old!’”
Nevertheless, she was infatuated with this older man paying attention to her, sharing quiet walks and tender thoughts of a future they could have together. He took his time winning over her affections and it wasn’t until several weeks later he finally kissed her.
“He told me he wanted me to be his girl,” said Erica. “A couple of days later he sent all kinds of flowers and at 16, I thought, he must be really loving me—and it wasn’t like it was just me and him. Everybody had seen all of this happening with him sending me all kinds of flowers. It was a big deal.”
In the beginning, she thought what they shared was love. And while he was possessive and slyly limited the time she spent with friends and family, Erica thought he did the things he did because he loved her so much.
Then small outbursts of anger began to happen—he wouldn’t let her go far without a report on where she had been and who she had seen; he’d slap her if dinner wasn’t ready; he stopped doing the sweet things that first attracted her to him. She never saw the changes as they happened and every time he did something bad, he would beg her forgiveness and tell her he didn’t know what happened, showering her with professions of love and gifts. Each time, she believed it would be the last time and she would take him back.
Then one autumn day, she discovered she was pregnant, so eventually, with pressure from John and her parents, she agreed to marry him. Immediately after the ceremony, John drove her to their new home—a townhouse in an isolated and undeveloped complex a couple of hours from the neighborhood where she had grown up.
“We’re sitting in the truck and I was looking at it and I just felt so lost,” she said. “I had two babies, the streets weren’t paved, there weren’t any streetlights—I couldn’t even go to the store from there, I was so afraid.”
As she tried to adjust to being a wife and mother, John’s paranoia continued to escalate and Erica found herself more and more afraid and increasingly more isolated from friends and family.
“He didn’t want us to even look out the windows and when he would come home, he would say to my daughter, ‘Who was in the house? Who was here?’ demanding she tell him. She was just a baby—she didn’t know what was happening,” Erica explained. “What would really get him angry was if this window blind we had got out of place and if it was out of place he would say I had been at the window and he would go crazier and crazier.”
She avoids the details—how he beat her with anything he could grab, how he threw her down the stairs—17 steps—how he would smell her clothes to see if she had been with anybody. She avoids talking about the time he broke all the dishes in the cabinet because his steak was overdone, or the time he held her head under water in the tub because she had accidently cut him while shaving him, or the time he shot a gun off beside her head, the white hot heat of it searing across her ear, while they were sitting in the dark during one of his rampages.
Before long, Erica took her oldest daughter out of school because John would often beat her in the early morning hours and it took too much to walk her there.
“I, physically, could not take it any longer,” she continued.
But that only isolated her even further.
After a brutal beating that left her barely conscious, Erica knew she had to save herself and her children. Afraid to even call a taxi because he may be able to trace her, Erica literally ran with the children until she was several miles away where she finally called her aunt to come pick her up.
After nights of scuttling from one hiding place to another, she eventually landed in Saratoga where she sought help from the Saratoga Domestic Violence and Rape Crisis Center.
But the fear and brutality and threats did not stop as she stumbled through the court process, custody battle and being a single mom. Months later she still lived with the fear.
“I am still afraid of him. I still don’t sleep—I stay on the couch at night,” said Erica. “I think he might hurt me more now than maybe before because before he might have thought we’d get back together, but now I know I’d never go back. You know, I never dreamed our life together would be this way. I never thought I would go through something like this. This is not where I wanted to be.”
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Domestic violence is that dirty little secret we don’t want anyone to know about when it happens to us. The abused and abuser usually go through great lengths to hide what is happening in their lives—they hide the bruises, the loud, out-of-control arguments, the threats, the violence. It knows no social, cultural or economic boundaries and comes in many forms—social isolation, threats, financial control, physical abuse.
According to the New York Division of Criminal Justice, there were 652 domestic violence assaults in Saratoga County in 2009—the most recent annual statistics available; in 1995, there were 243 domestic violence assaults. There were also 118 violations of orders of protection.
Last year, Saratoga DVRC took 1,701 hotline calls and assisted over 1,000 families, said Maggie Fronk, DVRC executive director. And, on average, 100 to 125 women and children spend time in their safe house each year, where they can stay up to 90 days.
“Some only stay a day or two—families tend to stay longer because of childcare, work and [court and legal issues],” continued Fronk.
She said that while the numbers of recorded incidents are rising, it is because the word is out—it is against the law and there are options for the victims.
“I think that because of the knowledge people have now, more people are seeking help,” she said. “But some people think that if they have not been hit, it is not abuse, but abuse comes in many forms, physical, financial, emotional and if you are at all concerned about yourself or someone you know, call and we can help.”
All the services through DVRC are free and confidential, which in addition to helping victims of domestic violence, helps people who have been sexually assaulted or need crisis intervention. There are support services, counseling, job assistance, a housing program, legal advocacy as well as a financial literacy program.
She added that people rarely leave for good the first time they try to get away and that they understand and are there to help guide them to getting emotionally, mentally and financially ready.
“National statistics say it takes seven or eight times before leaving permanently,” said Fronk. “It is part of the process and we help people explore how to be more safe.”
DVRC also offers services equally to men and women. They also have the Safe Pets Partnership.
“Oftentimes the abuser will use the family pet as leverage—tell the victim that they will kill it or hurt the pet, so the person doesn’t want to leave the pet behind,” said Fronk. “We have these wonderful foster homes we align with and they provide a safe and loving environment for the pet until they can be reunited with the family.”
She said they had helped all kinds of animals since the program began from small hamsters to dogs and cats and even horses.
“We have served hundreds of pets since its inception,” she added.
As for leaving—the time statistically when it is most dangerous, Fronk said DVRC can help someone who is in need develop a plan where they can leave safely.
“We help people every day,” said Fronk. “Anyone who is concerned can call to talk, get information or if they are in a crisis, call for immediate help. We are here and it is free and it is confidential.”
For more information call DVRC at (518) 583-0280. For those in a crisis, the 24-hour hotline is (518) 584-8188.
Why She Stays
She stays because she believed in fairy tales, Snow White and Cinderella.
She stays because she believes in dreams, because her children need a home, clothes and food.
She stays because it is her home too.
She stays because she and her children have lives and families and histories.
She stays because she feels intensely responsible and incredibly burdened.
She stays because she doesn’t want to break up her family.
She stays because she has seen his tender side—the side she initially fell in love with.
She stays because she is afraid and she knows fear, true fear.
She stays because it will be her and the children who have to run, have to hide, have to start over.
She stays because she believes he will change and because children need their father.
She stays because she is not a quitter and she believes in her wedding vows.
She stays because she is supposed to make it work.
Anonymous
