Emma's Story- Part 2
Continuation:
During the time we were in Anaheim, I stood in the hotel room nursing my wounds crying and praying, while he spent his time sightseeing and cheating. He would come back to the hotel room smelling of women's perfume, with lipstick on his shirt and with a very mean demeanor.
He wouldn’t talk to me at all. He would just throw a McDonald's bag and a water bottle at me so that I could eat and drink. I would try to speak to him and even cry to him apologizing for my behavior. I apologized to him in hopes that he would think that we were good and we could go back home to, Madera . I was scared of what he would do to me next. Each minute that passed all I could do was pray in silence that this monster that I had married would not kill me.
The day we were supposed to leave to go back home, I started packing up our bags and tidying up the hotel room. As I was changing my clothing, he asked me to iron a pair of pants for him. I did exactly as he told me, but according to him I wasn’t ironing the pants right. I knew how to iron because I was taught that by my mama when I lived at home. I wasn’t dumb. I could cook, clean, iron clothes, make tortillas, and sew.
However, according to him, I was not ironing his pants correctly. He grabed the iron from me and began to iron his own pants. I stood there in silence watching him. All of a sudden as he finished up ironing one pant leg, he asked me if I saw what he did and did I now know how to iron correctly. I answered him and said, "Yes, I did and yes, I do". He then proceeded to say to me “Well, so you will never forget how to iron my pants ever again…..” and before I even knew what was happening he grabed the hot iron and placed it on my left leg. I screamed in pain and attempted to run to the bathroom, however once again he grabbed me by my hair and wouldn't let go. I tried to pry his hands open so he could release my hair, but that only angered him. So, he threw me on the bed by my hair and got on top of me and began to punch my face and my breasts all the while yelling “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me!”
I actually passed out from the punches.
When I finally came through, he was just lying on the bed and told me to call my mom and to tell her that we were staying another week because we were having such a great time!
So injured me, did exactly as he said. On Monday morning, I called my job and told them that I was staying another week on my honeymoon because I was having a great time with my new husband.
Yet, here I was again locked in the hotel room and nursing my new wounds.
There were no trips to Disneyland for me. There was no eating out at restaurants, either. At the end of each night, which would be the time that Disneyland closed; he would come to the hotel the same way as the first week of our honeymoon, smelling of perfume and I was always thrown a Mcdonald’s bag and a bottle of water.
The second week on the honeymoon went the same as my first week. Locked up in a hotel room at his mercy. I didn’t attempt to leave him because I truly believed that he would kill me if I tried to. I was so paranoid that I imagined he was outside of the hotel room just waiting for me to open the door so that he could drag me again by my hair and beat me.
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