Used and Abused

The abuse I endured from John during the five year we were together was so painful. I am extremely grateful that he treated me horribly. The beginning of our relationship was great, but the good times didn’t last. I was holding on to a broken dream, while letting him break me down more each day. The last two years we were together were the absolute worst. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I stayed. After being controlled by John for so many years; him and prostituting was all I knew. I was so miserable, I almost forgot what happiness felt like
I stopped dressing like a girly girl and wearing perfume because of John. One time when I was wearing my favorite perfume Aqua De Gio, Georgia Armani; I figured John would like it too because people always complimented me on it, saying it reminds them of a scent from back in the day called Daisy. Boy did I think wrong; when I walked up to John wearing my perfume, he said to me “you smell like a whore.”
After some time being with him, I began to feel very insecure in anything other than a sweat outfit and sneakers. He would call me a “whore” or slap me if I tried to wear a nice dress shirt and jeans or a skirt that was knee length long. One time I went to go walk the dog in jogging gear; I thought I looked really cute, but John’s reaction made me feel so low. “Go change your clothes bitch, you look like a whore,” John said to me. He got mad because the shorts I had on were skin tight and showed off my figure; so I had to go change into baggy shorts that didn’t show off my cute butt.
He made me feel bad about dressing up, so I changed my style and the way I looked so I didn’t get in trouble. Another time I was getting dressed in the bathroom after I told him I was going to go out to eat with my friend and her daughter. I put on a pair of blue jeans, a black dress shirt that showed off my cleavage and a pair of black boots. I was in the bathroom straightening my hair, when John walked in and slapped me. He started screaming and cussing at me.
My face hurt really bad after he slapped me. John made me feel like I was the bad one; all I could do was cry. Little did John know, I wasn’t actually going anywhere ; I told him that because I just got back home from a long, hard week of prostituting and he promised to take me out to eat. Because I have been begging him to take me to go do something. All I did was sit in hotel rooms and on my time off, we sat at home. When I got home he acted totally different when I handed him the money. Once again, he let me down and we didn’t go out to eat or go do anything fun.

Once when I was taking the weekend off, after prostituting all week for John, I asked him if I could go and get my toes done. I came home and gave John thousands and thousands of dollars, so I figured it would be alright to treat myself to a twenty dollar pedicure. “All you want to do is spend money; do them yourself,” John told me. Even though I didn’t ever spend money; all I did was sit out of town and work all day, saving up every penny to bring home; his comment made me feel bad. My toes needed to be done, especially because I had to go out of town and prostitute for him again after the weekend; I wanted to look presentable for my dates; some of my clients had a foot fetish.
Although I would have much rather went to the nail shop, I agreed to do them myself because I didn’t want to start an argument with John. I sat alone on the living room floor, attempting to give myself a pedicure. I didn’t know what I was doing; I kept clipping my skin, causing my toes to bleed.
There is nothing wrong with doing your own toes, but there is something wrong with the fact I was making one to three thousand dollars a day and I couldn’t even get a twenty dollar pedicure with the money I made. Also John got mad at me if I wanted to get my hair trimmed. Even though I had dry, split ends and needed a trim; he’d complain about me wanting to waste money. So I didn’t got a hair cut when I needed one, yet he went to the barber every week to get his facial hair and the top of his head shaved.
John kept all of the money I made and wouldn’t let me hold on to a dollar. Sometimes he would leave me home alone with no food, so I would sit in the house all day scrounging up change, just so I could get something to eat. He would be gone all day, driving around and partying; spending all of the money I gave him from escorting. I wasn’t aloud to spend any of the money I made on myself. He told me for five years we were saving up money to buy me a car; go do something fun; take a vacation; pay off my dent; start our own business and buy a house.
He didn’t ever keep his promises; our relationship was ran on false hope. Because after he said what we were saving up money for, he turned around and bought himself a fifty thousand dollar diamond necklace; a Mercedes Benz S550 and a CLS500. He had three cars and I had none; I had to take the Amtrak out of town just to make money for him. He spent all of the money I made on diamond rings, gold chains and flashy grills. I was hardly aloud to buy clothes, but he bought himself True Religion pants, Gucci belts, Jordan sneakers and clothing items for himself. Also he would buy a lot of weed, alcohol, xanax pills, cocaine and promethazine bottles, so he could get drunk and high.
He would stunt on me with my money, then tell me that I am the reason we don’t have any money. He’d give away the money I made prostituting to all his friends, family and random women; he bought them nice things, took them our to eat and to go do fun things. Not to mention, I caught him tricking off the money I gave him on random black girl.

After a long, hard week of prostituting for his profits, I would come home, hoping to relax for a day or three, but the house looked like a dirty hell hole. It felt as if I was living in a frat house. There would be broken, fake finger nails in the living room; weave in the bathroom trash; beer cans scattered throughout the house; empty Hennessey and Vodka bottles in the trash can. It’s not like I was looking to find anything, it was all in plain view. Yet, John told me the reason he told me he couldn’t answer my phone calls when I was out of town working for him was because he was sleeping.
If John answered his phone, he always said he wasn’t doing anything. I would come home and he’d be sitting in the living room on the couch, playing video games and smoking weed with his cousin. John didn’t have a job; he replied on me to be his source of income. Once I got home, I had to hand him the thousands of dollars I just made; if I tried to not give it to him, it would cause him to abuse me. Then I’d only get to be home for one night, sometimes the weekend and I’d have to cook, clean, do laundry, massage his back, rub his feet , suck his dick and cater to him, by any means. One time I was upstairs cleaning and he screamed at me “hey bitch, come here!” I went downstairs and he wanted me to hand him the remote that was one foot away from him, He couldn’t even get up to get his own water; I had to do it because he was playing video games. I was so tired, I didn’t ever get a break.
John would always promise me when I got back from out of town we will go do something, but that didn’t ever happen. When I got home from prostituting, he always switched up once the money I made was in his hands. He spent all of the money I made on himself and everyone else but me. The little bit of hope he would change kept me around. Though, things didn’t ever get better, they just continued to get worse. After so many years of being treated unfairly, I finally said enough is enough.
John abusing me is what forced me to leave him and I am so thankful for that. Because picture if he was nice to me and let me buy and do what I wanted with the money I made escorting. Picture if I came home, the house was clean and he had dinner and gifts waiting for me. What if he kept his promises; took me to do fun things; fine dined me; bought me a car, instead of buying himself three. Picture if he did all of these nice things for me, with the money I gave him prostituting: then I’d be “happy” and still be with him. Luckily I was abused because I left and I am no longer being used.
Not everyone means what they say; sometimes the enemy doesn’t live far. John didn’t love me; he loved the idea of me; he loved what I did for him; he loved the money, I didn’t love John; I just didn’t love myself, that’s why I chose him to “love.” You cannot always trust a persons actions because some people have ulterior motives. Be careful who you invest your time into and don’t stay somewhere you don’t belong. It is not time wasted if you learned a valuable lesson. Listen to your heart, that inner voice, because your mind will play tricks on you. Don’t let someone tell you how to live your life. You are deserving and worthy of great things. You must Light your own path in life. No one else can do it for you; for they will only dim it into darkness. Be your own Light and lead the way; I promise there are better days ahead of you.


2 thoughts on “Used and Abused

  1. It broke my heart reading this. No one deserves to be in a toxic relationship. Man or woman, each deserves to be treated as somebody else’s king or queen. You’ll find the guy, Sasha. It’s not that I am too religious, but I know God has better plans for you. He is still crafting the best love story for you. I know it pains to wait sometimes; not knowing when the right person will come but take that as the opportunity to love yourself more. And yes, you are perfectly right — be your own light and way!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, right now more than ever is a great time to spend time with myself, get to know myself more and get closer to God. 🌞👌🥰 I hope you have an amazing day today and every day. Your comments brightened my day, thank you for all your kind words.

      Liked by 1 person

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