Continuing on from my violent and schizophrenic, drunken boyfriend of that time, and after the incident of the knife at my throat from the night before, I decided it was definitely time to leave. What was to gain by putting my life in the hands of this maniac anyway? I’d say nothing but misery.
The next day when I turned up for work at Dracula’s, I walked through the dungeon-like front doors to find the chef sitting at the front desk chatting to one of the cast. While I waited to sign in, I overheard the conversation that ensued. I had come to know Denise better now and she was nothing like the grumpy chef that my first impression had led me to believe. Denise was full of life, funny, and with a cackling laugh that made people around laugh even if they didn’t know why they were laughing. She looked up mid conversation and sung out to any and all, “Anyone looking for a place to live?” (It’s funny how the Universe provides to those in desperate need.) Straight away, I stepped over and replied, “It’s funny you should ask, but I was just about to see if anyone needed a flatmate. “Done”, she said…”When do you want to move in?” To which I replied that tonight would be perfect.
After tearfully explaining my situation, Denise suggested that I really should come home with her that night and that we would go and pick up my stuff together as soon as we got a chance. This was my introduction to Denise’s big and generous heart. Who knows, perhaps she even saved my life.
Of course she held to her promise and my belongings were safely transported to her lovely little unit in Fairfield, and a fresh and far happier life started for me. I think now of those “Galloping Hooves” pounding on the bitumen as I fled from yet another unhappy chapter of my life.
On our first night together we sat drinking red wine, eating, talking and laughing into the small hours of the morning. I felt as light as a feather felt and stronger than I had felt in a long time. It was as if I had been living in a dark room and someone had just flicked on a light – it all seemed so obvious now that I could see things objectively. Life felt good.
We did have a visit from the abuser one night; crying and saying he loved me; that he couldn’t live without me. Bla, bla, bla. I didn’t care. I was amongst friends now – his power was gone. We just called the police and told him to piss off. The last I heard from him was that he wrote a letter to my parents apologising and a poem to me. I’ve put them in here because I think it’s interesting to see how the mind of this kind of person works. (I have kept all my letters the past)
“Dear Mr and Mrs ………..,
Please don’t hate me for the things I have done wrong to you and especially your daughter. I am sorry and deeply ashamed of myself and my conduct.
Love for me holds many feelings and one of them is jealousy. I know that instead of accepting Jenny’s love, I drove her away. I’ll understand if you or Jenny never want to see me again. Please give this poem to Jenny. I don’t know where she is living and tell her please I am really sorry.
p.s. Please write”
Peter’s Poem – 1988
“The day is hazy deep and gray,
Yet I am full of life,
My heart inside just wants to play,
For you my darling wife. (It was the only word I could think of which rhymed)
The outlook which I had on life,
Has changed from black to blue,
For the feeling of love has blossomed inside,
And I give it all to you (Jenny).”
So there you have it. Obviously he did find out where I lived and he stalked me for a while, but with the support of my good friend Denise, I managed to stay away from his “black to blue” life. I knew in my heart that there would only be one kind of “black and blue” if I went back to him regardless of what his intentions were.