Almost immediately after we arrived back in Missouri Dakota got a call from a man he worked for in Florida and he needed his help on a project in Atlanta. He jumped at the opportunity because it was a chance to make some really good money. But if he was going to go then I had to go with him because there was no way Dakota would have stayed awake long enough not to crash.

Atlanta tested our relationship. Things did not go according to the plan in Atlanta and there was bickering and I messed up our reservations at a hotel then the car broke down.

Our car broke down right in front of a hotel and we had Chewie and things weren’t going well at all. But, luckily for us, there just so happened to be a random mechanically inclined tweaker. He fiddled with this and banged on that and twisted and turned things. By God, it worked! Dakota shook his hand and thanked him and the guy just walked on off.

His boss rented an airBB and offered to let us stay with them there. Only problem was Chewie had to sleep outside which caused me to have a fit but once we got there things really weren’t that bad. Chewie did really well with sleeping in the car and the trip turned out to be really good.

We had some really good talks on our way back to Missouri. We ventured off and went sight seeing in Tennessee, too.

I was unsure about what the future held with Dakota getting a job full time doing racking around America that left me alone in Missouri taking over all the mom duties. But, this job meant the world to Dakota so naturally I supported his decision and was ready to make that commitment.

The weeks went by. And they went by. Dakota was let down by the job in Florida.

I came to the realization that I am the toxic one in this relationship. I wasn’t healed and I brought the instability into Dakota’s life. I did that.

I don’t know how to be in a healthy relationship because I had been with Chris for so long I was conditioned into a certain way of life. I drove Dakota to the point of physical abuse because that is what I was used to. I didn’t realize it at first but my behavior and, honestly, my mental illness – being bipolar – had me acting manipulative and I was mimicking some small narcissistic traits of Chris that he unleashed onto me.

Once I realized this I knew how to stop myself from going that far.

We did have one little fight that did not become physical since I’ve gotten back. He broke up with me and I didn’t know how to react so I got out of the car. Right on a busy ramp.

I walked up the hill and across the road by a hotel and some office buildings. I had so much running through my head. I felt like I’ve put in the work why aren’t the results happening the way I imagined they would?

He picked me up and we drove home. I talked to him about what I discovered about myself and how I drove him to become violent with me and how sorry I was. He was elated! He’s been wanting me to realize this since it happened the first time but then I slit my wrists and drove him to madness.

After that talk things have been good, really good. I mean we have little spats like normal couples do but our communication is key and I think we’re both at a point where we’re not afraid to voice our concerns with one another.

Then there was an incident with Caiden. He was quite obviously depressed, he was having crying spells at our house every other week and at school.

We pressured him gently to tell us what had been going on but he was reluctant.

He told us he was getting verbally and physically abused by his mother’s boyfriend. Apparently, he was calling Caiden a ‘faggot’ and putting his hands around Caiden’s neck. His mom encouraging him to do it.

He didn’t care about Christmas, he didn’t care about seeing his presents all he wanted was to stay here with Dad and us. We were hearing his emotions and we were planning accordingly.

No, Caiden would not be going back to his moms. Not as long as her boyfriend is there.

The day he was supposed to return to his mom’s she attempted to pick Caiden up at school and Caiden refused to get into the car with her so the school called Dakota so he left to go settle everything but by the time he got there she was gone.

Later that day here comes Caiden’s mom and boyfriend with the Grandma GiGi. I was standing up in the living room so I peaked my head over and told Dakota who it was.

He shot up off the couch and ran towards the back door where they had parked. The boyfriend was standing up away from the car and buffed up his chest. Dakota ran full force towards him and screamed something about him picking on little boys then WAM!

The boyfriend didn’t give Dakota a chance to even fight back he popped him with brute force onto Dakota’s nose, immediately shattering it. Dakota runs over and grabs the rake.

Caiden is screaming in the background and I’m frozen in place until Dakota let out an animalistic yell towards the boyfriend, he throws the rake down away from the boyfriend and he goes inside.

Blood everywhere. There was blood on the door, all over the floors, the couch and all over Dakota. His nose was fucked.

Caiden’s mom and GiGi come inside and everyone starts talking. They come to an agreement that Caiden could stay at our house that night.

While everyone was talking Caiden’s mom made a comment to me saying that she thought she was going to have to fight me tonight, too.

By the end of it all Caiden’s mom let him stay with us that night but she wanted Caiden to stay home from school the next day.

Dakota’s nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. It was clearly not doing so well and he needed to go to the hospital so I drove him up to Lebanon to get it looked at. The hospital gave him a referral to see a nose specialist.

The nose specialist saw multiple broken bones and she scheduled him for surgery that week. He went in for surgery and it seemed as if it still wasn’t healing correctly and he had a dip in the corner of his eye socket.

There isn’t much more the doctors could have done to fix it at that point so now he has to live with an incorrectly done nose job for the rest of his life.

We celebrated Christmas and the days and weeks and months flew by and Caiden still didn’t return to his mother’s. The law was involved now and Dakota filed charges on the boyfriend for hitting him. DCF was also involved and we were required to go to a few sessions with case workers for Caiden.

We started Caiden on therapy once a week, too.

I felt like we had a stronger connection than ever throughout this. I was able to attempt to be some sort of rock for him to be able to lean against for guidance and comfort and that made me feel a sense of accomplishment.

I guess I was wrong though because as time went by Dakota started to knit pick the things about me he wanted me to change.

And I obliged! I changed into what he needed me to be. I stepped up and transformed into the perfect woman. Or so I thought.

I’m sorry for causing more disappointment than pride in my adult life. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions and spent too much time with no good people.

I remember the girl I was before I met Chris, before I ever stuck a needle in my arm. I was outgoing, confident, adventurous. I had goals and hobbies and friends to hang out with. My smile lit up rooms.

Just a few days ago Doris, Dakota’s grandmother, she said she wished she could show you how much of a difference I became since I first got here last year. She said she thought you’d be proud.

Which made me cry because honestly mom, all I ever really wanted to do in life was make my parents proud.

I never really put much thought into WHY I ever did drugs in the first place. Maybe it was so I didn’t come off lame in front of the cool kids. Maybe it was because I grew up watching my dad suffer from addiction and I needed to know why he constantly chose using over his kids.

But honestly there is no good reason behind it all.

I won’t tell you all I did while in the midst of my addiction because it’s not something a mother would want to hear but I went to a dark place. I lost sight of who I really was. That confidence I had withered away, I was always second guessing myself so I transformed from an extrovert to an introvert.

Being with Chris meant that I was never stable so I had no time or ability to make friends outside of drugs. And worse than it all I became obsessed with a narcissistic man that gaslighted me to no end.

I don’t know if this will make you proud of me or not but I beat a heroin addiction. I did. I called you from my tent in Spring Hill and I had made the decision to leave Chris and finally go into treatment and I can’t tell you enough that if it wasn’t for your love and support during that trying time I might not have gotten to where I am today.

It’s coming on 2 years since I’ve done any dope. That’s amazing!

I’ve been steady on my medication for over a year now and I’ve done a ton of healing. I’m with a man who loves me. He loves me like a normal man should. In the beginning, I realize now, that I was now the toxic one in the relationship and I was unknowingly trying to turn Dakota into Chris by forcing him to become violent with me. We’ve since resolved some significant issues and I’m happy. I’m actually happy.

I held a job for the better part of last year, the entire year and I plan to do the same this year. Working at the hospital is going to be life changing for me and I’m going to climb up the ladder until I have a career doing something good.

I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I hate what I put you through, what I put the family through and what I put myself through. I imagine there was times you weren’t sure where I was, what state I was in, who I was with or if I was alive or dead. That’s so messed up of me and I’m ashamed of myself.

I promise for as long as I live I never put you through any of that again. You are an amazing mother and if it wasn’t for you and your unconditional love for me I would not be where I am today. I’d still be using and maybe even dead.

Thank you, Moma. I love you

I ran upstairs and locked myself in the guest room. All I could hear on the other side of the house was Dakota screaming. He was mad because his grandmother decided not to take sides and he wanted her to kick me out.

He left to go get Caiden from the bus stop and when he came back the horror continued. Not only that but he has his son on the other side of the door hollering at me just like his dad. That broke me a little, only because I really love that kid.

I heard him say he was going to get his friend to come over and beat my ass. His yelling set me off though, I couldn’t get away from it and I was too overwhelmed to think so I did the most logical thing in my mind and I called the police.

Of course, he was able to leave and drive off before the police would arrive but I was fully prepared for him to get a slap on the wrist for how he was acting and treating not only me but his grandmother as well,

I assured the police that I was going to leave and move in with some family in Florida and that I would be safe if they left and if I felt I wasn’t safe anymore I could call them back.

I honestly don’t remember how we got it so we were even talking again but before I knew it we were downstairs having a serious conversation about us and what had to be done from this point forward.

We tinkered back and forth with the idea of me going back to Florida but ultimately he really wanted me to stay, and I was willing to stay if he rekindled the relationship we had months back before coming to Missouri.

We’d spend hours and hours discussing his far out sci-fi theories of Aliens and how they came about or if we really come from a God or are we just balls of energy waiting to be released so we can finally travel through space and time.

We talked about our personalities and communicated how we felt, why we did certain things and I felt like I finally was able to resolve some stuff that we both didn’t know how to bring up or solve without breaking boundaries before.

I do believe that our relationship would have lasted and gotten better if I had stayed, but after experiencing

But, I got paid and after I did he asked me what I was going to do and I said I guess I’ll buy my bus ticket back to Florida and for a split second I thought maybe he’d try and stop me or convince me to stay but he said nothing so I booked my trip back to Florida for the following week.

Before I left we talked and talked and solved so many issues we were having and it was light a weight was lifted off my shoulders and I could finally breathe again. Life always has the worst timing.

The day I was to leave him, Caiden and I got together and made ourselves some tie dye t shirts so we’d always have something to remember each other with (mine turned out amazing, by the way).

They drove me down to the bus stop in Springfield and we sat together and said our emotional goodbyes.

He got mad after I got upset that I spilled boiling hot water in my stomach. That rolled into our typical fights but this time it started to get out of hand again.

I don’t remember a whole lot of what had happened. I do recall reaching up to the collar of his shirt pleading with him to calm down but he freaked out thinking I was choking him so he choked me back.

While he was choking me his dog, Bubba, who is typically a very sweet dog ran over and bit me on my thigh.

Like I said though, it all happened so fast. His recollection of the events doesn’t match mine perfectly.

After he left the room I went over to Bubba who was on the bed and I smacked him for biting. Not two seconds later did he run busting through the door lunging at me. He threw me down on the recliner and smacked the living shit out of me. I could see the hatred in his eyes.

He stopped after the third slap rang through my head like a tweety bird cartoon with Themis little birds or stars circling around my head.

“Oh my God” he stammered, hovering above me as he held his gaping mouth in disbelief in himself.

It was almost as if he didn’t know or couldn’t comprehend what it was he did to me just then.

I was hysterical and almost silent behind my sobs – gasping for breath.

I couldn’t believe he did that to me. I was shocked. How could I have finally gotten free from my narcissistic and abuse husband only to have the very next man pull that shit on me.

I honestly can’t even remember how we recovered from that fight because it was bad.

The next few days I went to work I tried to hide the bruising on my face. But, I woke up late one day and toted around a nice shiner on both eyes for everyone to see.

And they did see, alright. The section manager for meat and produce at the Walmart that I worked at called me into her office. She discussed different options that were available for me as a victim of domestic violence. I sat in her office as she insisted on making these calls for me to get out of his house and somewhere stable.

Then the stores main manager sent me into her office and urged me to get help.

I’m not going to lie, I was curious because I was so angry. They allowed me to leave my shift early and I went to the Safe Harbor resource center for victims and I was informed of what I could do as far as file charges, get a restraining order and housing.

I never went back and I didn’t fill out any of the forms I just came home. Caiden is my old reasoning. He deserves his dad.

It wasn’t much long after that he wanted us to be just friends. He wanted to remove the romantic part of our relationship completely so he could fuck around and be able to fuck me too. It’s like he was having his cake and eating it too.

This went on for a while actually – months, if I’m not mistaken.

But, the longer I was around, being his best friend and being around him laughing and goofing like we do. I started to fall in love with him.

That stupid jerk just was so compassionate, so in touch with his emotions, when he got frustrated and a little mad at something he was doing it was all adorable. I love his nose and how his glasses sit on the bridge of it so perfectly. His voluptuous lips he likes to hide behind a well sported mustache and beard.

He is very slender and I still don’t know how I feel about that ONLY because I’m a bigger girl now. He fit his clothes so well and the way he looks at me drives me crazy.

June rolls around before I know it. I love my job, I love my dogs, I love that I’m starting to get hobbies again and go on little adventures. I’m working on who I am as a person and she’s a great person.

I wake up one morning feeling ill but I go into work anyways. By the time I finish half my shift I can’t do it anymore and I go to the office and have them call an ambulance.

Going to the hospital in Lebanon I discover I have pnemonia and I stay there two nights getting stabbed and poked by so many needles and them running all sorts of tests they discover a mass on my lungs but discharged me before discovering what it was.

I go into work and get fired for missing work while in the hospital and when I get home the doctor calls me and asks me to come back because the mass was a rare bacteria growing on my lungs.

I spend another 3 days in the hospital.

Jobless and drained from almost dying I lose myself for a little. I got depressed. I slept all the time and didn’t do anything around the house. I would forget to take my meds more frequently and I’d get anxiety and crying spells.

Dakota hadn’t had a job the whole time we were there and now I wasn’t working so things were becoming pretty tight.

At this point living at his grandma’s as long as we had Dakota was on edge at the house almost constantly. He was meeting up with old friends from his past criminal days and finding any reason he could to go out.

It wasn’t uncommon for us to just drive around to different fish stores.

But, eventually I did get a job at the McDonald’s in town. After I started working things got a lot better again. I felt better, our relationship was better and things at home were manageable.

I was still dealing with Dakota freaking out on me for things I wasn’t even doing but I was learning to handle it better.

Then we got into another fight. I had some energy and wanted to clean the basement so I grabbed the mop bucket and went upstairs. Dakota was pooping so I was waiting outside the door when he told me I could come in there. Just as I was about to dump the bucket of dirty water down the tub drain he decides to go off on me.

Makes me feel stupid because I should have known better that mop water needs to be dumped outside, in the country you can’t be putting just anything down the drain. Then he hits me with a, “what you have to be around me that much”.

That’s what got me. Tears in my eyes, and avoiding eye contact I take my dirty mop bucket and I go outside. During my time outside I go over the situation that just happened and instead of my usual get sad, take his side, apologize and move on hopefully – I start getting mad as fuck. How dare he degrade me and treat me like shit and how dare he make me feel crazy or obsessive after he called me in there. What the fuck is his problem treating me like shit.

I fix up the bucket, go back inside and go to bed. The next day I don’t talk to him and I go upstairs to the guest room. I’m mad mad. Not once does he try to talk about it, make things better or cheer me up. He just lets me get mad

I’m texting him from upstaira and he’s not replying and I’m crying with disbelief.

Next day he says his phone died but he still didn’t try to fix anything and that didn’t sit with me. He spent the entire next day out, on my day off. He was avoiding the entire thing and I just dwelled on it and I eventually wasn’t mad anymore I was hurt. Hurt he didn’t fight for my happiness even a little bit.

So while he’s gone all day I make my way downstairs since he’s gone and I sleep with the dogs in the big bed. He comes home with a milkshake and offers it to me in bed. Like nothing ever happened he sits on the couch. I walk over and sit across from him expecting to have a respectable conversation and resolve this issue I was having.

Mind you it’s a Thursday at this point. He says no, that on Saturday we were going to dinner with his step mom and that we’d talk about it then. So instead of fighting, even though I felt disgusted, I got up and said fine I’ll be upstairs til then.

Halfway up the stairs he yells out to me calling me a whore. Those words hit me and I saw red. I ran back down the stairs and got in his face and told him to never disrespect me like that.

And to my surprise he reaches out to my breasts and grabs them, twists them and proceeded to push me down into the love seat. Instead of coming at him, I glaced over and see his pot plant so I grabbed it and did my best to destroy it as much as I could until he was able to stop me.

He grabs me and puts me in an arm lock then starts hollering for his grandma. I’m yelling at him telling him to break my arm and after what seemed like forever she finally comes down and he lets me go.

I remember the day pretty well. I was a little cranky that day for whatever reason. I was in the kitchen making tea in a pot on the stove and when it was finished boiling I turned off the burner and proceeded to lift the pot off the hot surface when the handle of the pot was unknowingly broken so the pot swirls upside down while I’m holding it spilling the contents on me and my hand. Burnt I yell out in pain and Dakota thinks it’s a good idea to not only laugh at me but criticize me for not knowing the pot was broken.

That set me off and I yelled at him and he yelled at me then I said I hated him and he told me to get the fuck out. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

But something about that day. Something about it just made it so I couldn’t let it go. But then midway us arguing I decide I didn’t want to let Dakota go. That he was what I wanted and I made a mistake. But, things already went a little too far by now.

I go over to him, almost hysterically and I try to calm him down. I put my hands around his neck, but not in a way intended to inflict pain and I tried to coax him. But, failing miserably, Dakota thinks I’m about to choke me and throws me onto a lazy boy and starts choking me.

Then I start choking him and out of nowhere his dog comes out and bites me in the hip. Dakota leaves the room thinking he’s accomplished something and I go over to his dog and I smacked it. Seeing me do this set Dakota off and he throws me back into the lazy boy and smacks me in the face with excruciating force three times.

I didn’t admit or deny any abuse but I didn’t have to. She let me leave early and I went to a center in town for domestic abuse victims to discuss options I might have.

My nose bleeding and bruises quickly forming on my cheeks and eyes he snaps back and immediately regretted what he had done, mentioning how my nose was bleeding.

Crying uncontrollably, I get him to leave me alone and I spent the next few days sleeping upstairs.

I couldn’t believe the situation I had got myself into. The familiar toxicity I had experienced too many times before this. The abuse, the neglect, the lack of respect, the constant fighting. Except this was worse because I wasn’t even getting affection, admiration or love from this guy – just constant bullshit. What the fuck was I even doing there?

But, I didn’t leave right away like I probably should have. Like any normal girl would have done.

I continued to go to work and my manager walked by and saw the bruises on my face and she brought me into the office to discuss it. I was a lost in the emotions, stressed and torn over what I should do next and heartbroken because I was really starting to feel true love for Dakota before it happened. I sat in her office and just cried for a good 20 minutes.

Because of my love for Dakota and with his son and his ciminal history on my mind I couldn’t get myself to fill out the paperwork for a restraining order. I didn’t want Dakota to get into any legal trouble over our relationship issues and ruin his life. So, I left and went home.

That’s when Dakota and I sat down to talk. He didn’t want me to leave. He didn’t want to be with me, but he wanted me to stay. Ultimately it boiled down to the fact that he didn’t want to be alone. But, that was enough for me to feel needed enough to try and be just friends with him.

If I moved back to Florida at that point I’d probably be homeless or living with Nessa in some trap. I was working but I didn’t have enough for a down payment on a rental. It was cold and I had Chewie and he and his grandma practically begged me to stay so I stayed. Deep down I still thought Dakota and I would be good together that maybe we needed to do this.

And things got better, they really did. I was still on my toes all the time but I was trying to be more self aware to how I came off to him. I was opening up to him sexually, we started to do hobbies together like our fish tank and growing plants. We went places together and we had fun.

His dog Stella got pregnant and had 5 puppies. They were blue heeler and rottweiler mixes. There was only one that possessed the colors of a blue heeler and she was the most perfect little puppy the world had ever seen.

I tried not to love her. I tried to avoid bonding with her and staring at her. But, Dakota knew. He knew that I needed her bso he pressed me on keeping her. I said I’m a one dog woman and ignored him until one day I said fuck it.

Bonding with her took time. I was still hesitant and even tried to get rid of her a few times but once it finally happened she was my baby. Her name is Neptune and Dakota kept her sister Jupiter. We now had 5 dogs.

We spent a good month or two living this best friends with benefits thing. I worked at the Walmart and I took the best of care I could for Dakota. I didn’t clean all that much, but neither did he and we had spats about that but I bought him anything he wanted, supporting him financially. I also supported his bisexuality and even attended the Pride parade in St Louis with him which was another interesting night which ended up in him ditching me for being tired and not fucking or something and I spent the night crying alone in a hotel in the most ghetto part of town. But, we made up and drove back home like nothing happened.

Then it happened. I go to work one day and my manager pulls me into her office and she tells me she opened up an anonymous fundraiser for me so I could move into my own place away from my abusive boyfriend and she hands me $1,200 cash in an envelope.

$1,200 cash!

I spent the remainder of my shift trying to decide what I should do.

I could have done a load of things with that money. I could keep it and fix my teeth, move back home, stay and get my own place, or I could tell Dakota and we could decide what to do with it. So many more things I could have done and I literally thought about them all. My mind was going a mile a minute.

I decided to keep the money a secret and that I was probably going to move back home to Florida with it.

I get off work and I call Dakota and I tell him about the money. Impulsively, I allow him to now have a part into where the money went and how it’s spent. And not only that but he actually gets upset with me for getting it because now he thinks everyone thinks he’s abusive when in fact no one knows anything because it was all anonymous.

We blew the money within two weeks and the only thing I had to show for it was two pairs of glasses. I literally blew it all instead of using it to better my life in any way and I feel a bit ashamed about it because people did give me their hard earned money at hopes that I would put myself in a better situation.

I don’t know when it was but one day Dakota and I have a talk and he decides he’s ready to be with me again. I agree to let him do his bisexual thing, I agree to work on myself and try and he agrees to give me another chance.

And things aren’t so bad. But, I was having to constantly deal with him thinking I was going out of my way to piss him off but in reality I’m just a little derpy and unintentionally did or said things that set him off.

I was stuck. I felt stuck, anyways. I was slowly falling in love one day then crying alone in bed the next. I was putting my whole self into getting this relationship to work. I really was. I never cheated, I took care of him, I supported him and cared about him and his feelings. I gave him freedom and trust. And on top of that I was thinking about Chris less and less and working on my character defects to become a better partner. I gave him all that I could.

It wasn’t ever enough.

I’d lay down across from him on the couch, staring at his handsome face and admiring him for being him and he’d think I was up to something.

But, I do admit I would frequently just sit on the couch and stare off doing absolutely nothing but thinking almost all the time. I’d do it until I got so tired I’d fall asleep and it drove him nuts.

There’s something about me. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something that really sets men off. I feel like I’m being as sweet as a button but men just think I’m out to get them.

So even though our sex was on fire and most of the time we actually did get along the times we didn’t were unbearable.

The truth is, and this is just from my point of view his may be completely different but his misinterpreted view of me is what ruined our relationship. The way he always got mad at me when I wasn’t doing anything. That’s what did it.

I could have looked past everything else but our communication went in the toilet as soon as he got mad and I was going to bed with him mad, I was more than likely sleeping alone and I wasn’t getting love.

And I so desperately wanted to be loved.

Then I met Dakota. I had seen him a few times with Patrick but never really knew him. But, he messaged me and asked for a sack of weed and I had my mom pull up to his apartment to sell it to him. He was handsome in every way, unique features and a seriousness about him. It was a quick exchange but I gave him an assessment.

He started to read my book and would tell me his opinion on it. He took the time to actually get to know me and took an interest in my past. That intrigued me.

He seemed shy at first, unsure of himself around me. But, he was sweet as a button. We’d have sex, cuddle, take naps together and just bask in each other’s company. We seemed to make a good team too, like when we’d have to clean the house or go somewhere.

I started to fall for him faster then intended. I started hanging out with him in July and by the time September rolled around I was sure I wanted to invest my full time and energy into him. So after a passionate sexual encounter I summoned up the courage to ask him to be my boyfriend.

Not but a short week or two later I’d be packing my bags and moving in with him.

It was nice. He had a few roommates that we’d kick it with and vibe with and we kept up with the momentum a relationship should go in. I was starting to become extremely happy.

But, the thing is Chris JUST died. I’d think about him often and I’d start to feel a type of way the closer I got to Dakota. I felt guilty, I felt like I was betraying him. I cried every single day still and that amount of competition I made Dakota feel he had wasn’t right. He deserved to have me in my entirety and not have to compete with my love for a dead man. But, I was still greiving and I would be for a while.

As I was getting to know Dakota and try for a new love things at his apartment were starting to get hairy and things back at his home were too so Dakota decided it would be in his best interest to move back home to Missouri and he asked if I’d come along.

Without hesitation I accepted. It was right before Thanksgiving when we had decided to leave. We had a last minute Friendsgiving at his apartment then I left with my mother for a cabin out in Georgia before we left. I met up with dakota, having all 3 dogs with him in his trusty Buick Century loaded to the hilt in Lake City and we drove to my dad’s place to sleep so we could wake up super early to drive and see the ocean before leaving Florida.

We drove to St. Augustine around 4 am, we parked at a nice hotel and walked to the beach before the sun rose. The ocean waves crashed loudly at the shore. It was dark and vast. Visibility was scarce and unfortunately we left before the sun rose but I’ll always remember that night.

We drove all day the next day and got a motel in Mississippi and spent the night having amazing sex and talking about the future. The next day we drove some more and ended up getting another motel and doing the same thing. We got to his grandmother’s house in Conway, MO the night before Thanksgiving.

His family welcomed me like I was a part of the family. We roughed it between his grandma’s and his dads, who lived just up the road. It was cold, it was beautiful. The roads out there were hilly and windy and the speed limit was high. It was very rural and swcluded. Even the city of Springfield was small.

Eventually we were staying exclusively at his grandma’s house and we moved into the basement for more room and privacy. We had his son every other week but things weren’t going so hot.

But, things started to change in Dakota not long after arriving. He was starting to change. It was like I moved to Missouri with a completely different man. He saw red so often and would go off with anger and agitation. He would talk to his grandmother shamefully and he never seemed to be happy unless we were out and about doing something. He would blame his mood on his family because admittedly they were very invasive and borderline controlling in a very nonchalant and sneaky way. But, I don’t think that it should cause anyone to react the way that he did.

Some time in December I ran out of my mental health meditation. When this happens I fall into a depressive state and a state of fear, confusion, greif and disbelief of where I was and who i was with in life.

Dakota and I got into a fight about something, I honestly can’t even remember. It may have been my fault, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. It led to us screaming at one another in the stairway of the basement until I smacked him across the face because he was being disrespectful. Next thing I know I’m downstairs in the walkway by the stairs on my knees and sobbing that I missed Chris and I missed my mom and I wanted to go while experiencing an intense panic attack. Dakota holding me on the floor.

I say something that either hurt him or pissed him off and he runs back upstairs. I walk over to our living room and flip over our coffee table, stuff flying everywhere. Without a thought in my head, without reason or means I glance down and see a piece of broken porcelain from one of his ashtrays. I pick it up and just slash my arm completely open.

Realizing what I had just done and seeing the meat of my arm open up and squirting blood all over the room I come to my senses. I screamed for Dakota and he came running down.

He was fucking livid. He was pissed, irritated and halfway freaking out. But, he refused to take me to a hospital. Me sobbing on the floor and holding my arm he runs upstairs and grab some supplies and making sure I don’t bleed out he bandages me up.

I’m pretty sure i traumatized him that night. I traumatized myself and he had to witness it all. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be alone in a dark room with a comfy bed and I wanted to pretend I wasn’t on this planet anymore. But, being somewhere where I knew no one but Dakota and his family I felt lost, like I put myself in my own prison.

Dakota put his foot down about my mental health after that day. He wanted me to take my medicine every day and he drove me to the hospital the very next day to get them. I waited too long to get my arm stitched up, though so now I bear a horrible scar on my forearm. WI now live with one of the most gnarliest scars on my arm because of it.

I got enrolled at a mental health clinic in Springfield shortly afterwards and I had a good psychiatrist that I would see who actually fixed my prescriptions and got me on something better.

It took me a while to find a job. In January I found a telemarketing job in Springfield, but I quickly replaced it with a solid job at the local Walmart in Marshfield, which is the closest “big town” to where we were living.

I was doing really well actually. But, I was only taking my medication semi-regularly and every single time I’d forget to take them a day or two Dakota and I would fight over some bullshit. Usually, it would be about how I was acting or something I said but I’d never know what he was talking about because I was still being the same old me and he’d just get so mad over nothing or something small.

It got to the point where I’d cry on a regular basis. I’d be walking on my tip toes around him and watching everything I said. Too scared to start something. Nothing worked though.

We went through so many ups and downs. He’d be sweet and we’d get along great one week and then I’d forget to take my meds and we’d fight and break up then get back together again and repeat the cycle and I’m not going to lie, it was exhausting.

Then there was the episode that changed my entire view of Dakota.

But, he wasn’t. “No, Allie.” Malinda spoke slowly, “they are taking him to the morgue.”

I was literally puffing on a joint as her words crashed violently against my eardrums. My face fell, my entire demeanor changed. I sat in shock for a small eternity. I honestly don’t even remember the rest of the phone call. Tears streamed down my cheeks – wet and hot.

My heart immediately started pounding out of my chest. The very worst thing that I could have ever imagined happened has happened. My entire world crashed down all around me…

I passed the joint to whoever took it from me and I got up and went outside, Malinda was still talking in my ear. I don’t remember how long I was on the phone with her, it could have been seconds or minutes but I wasn’t listening.

My sister’s husband and my nephew were playing outside as I leaned up against my mom’s mustang. they stopped playing once they heard my sobs.

I got off the phone and I looked at my sister and I blurted out, “he’s dead, Chris is dead”

Not really knowing what to do my sister rolled up a joint and she had me get in her van and we just drove for a while.

I had this overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t alone. Chris was there with me in that van, his spirit was with me. I didn’t know what to say at first but then I just cried and I talked about him the best way I knew how. I mentioned my love for him, I mentioned feeling his spirit and I talked about how he always said the most peaceful way to die was after doing a big fat shot of heroin and that’s what the fuck he did.

We returned to my mom’s once I was able to regain my composure good enough.

They were all there for my birthday, we were to go on a kayak trip and so I decided, for Chris, I’d go out and I’d try to have a good time because that’s what he’d want me to do.

I put the news to the side and we set off to Warner Boyce State Park and we rented two kayaks and we paddled them all the way to the ocean. The view was outstanding! Once my mom got tired we paddled back and made our way back to our tiny house.

My day would have ended alright if my mother didn’t ruin it by making snide remarks like, “ding dong the dick is dead” and more inappropriate comments.

I spent that entire night staring at photographs of him and us, crying myself to a stupor.

I spent that night with him in my dreams. I remember them vividly and woke up the next morning confused and angry. It wasn’t just some nightmare to wake up to. He was gone.

The first thing I did was call the Salisbury police department which transferred me to the county police. I asked them if they could confirm the death of my husband because I needed to hear it from someone else other than his mother.

Not only did they confirm his death but they questioned me about my whereabouts and told me there was signs of foul play, but didn’t give me any more details.

I called everyone in Wicomico county I could think of that could possibly give me answers.

I was left feeling just as clueless and distraught as I started the day.

Chris’ brother, Terry, found his body after he’d gone two days without responding to anyone. I may have been the last person he messaged.

The police reports them arriving at the scene at 1249pm. The EMT found Chris sitting and laying face down on his side, and that he was cold to the touch. The EMT pronounced Christopher deceased at approximately 1255 hours. They stated that they believed that Chris was deceased for approximately 8 hours. They had found a spoon with possible paraphernalia.

The police observed the scene and Chris was partially sitting and laying on the side of his face.

“Christopher had multiple bags of clothes on the boat, and it appeared that he had been staying in the cabinet of the boat. I took multiple photos of the scene. I observed an empty black and red bottle of ZAZA red pills on the floor of the boat. I later found a spoon in one of Christopher’s bags. The spoon did not appear to have any signs of drug residue on it. As I continue to search one of Christopher’s bags, I locate 2 bags of unknown brown powdery substances, suspected to be bath salts.
I contacted the on-call Medical Examiner and Lawrence Towles responded. Towles observed the scene and later advised that Christopher will be going to Baltimore for an autopsy. Towles report number is 23-07215. I also issued Towels a report number. Towles advised that Holloways Funeral Home was responding per his grandfather’s request. 1st sergeant Burley Kirkpatrick responded and took over the scene. He found 2 needle caps, however, no needles, and a cell phone. The funeral received Christopher’s body and transported it to Baltimore for an autopsy.

After Christophers body was removed from the scene, DFC Kirkpatrick observed a straw with possible drug paraphernalia residue. We collected all the items and transported them to the wicomico county sheriffs office and placed them in a property evidence locker.
The case has been forwarded to C.I.D. for further investigation.”

You have no idea how many times I have read the police report. How many times I’ve imagined what his body must have looked like, lifeless and keeled over on his side. I relive the nightmare every time.

The next few weeks my time was filled with uncomfortable conversations, signing away on all these documents and preparing for my trip up to Maryland to attend his funeral.

I always thought there was some sort of significance behind me being born on a Friday.

Friday born people are said to be natural peacemakers that love spending time with friends and family and they have an eye for beauty and a talent for creating it.

I was born on Friday, June 14, 1991. The events that transpired on the day I was born have gotten so jumbled up throughout the years that I won’t even bother trying to recite them.

I do know that my parents were told I was going to be a boy and that I would be named Zachary and because of that they didn’t have a name picked out for me and I had left the hospital without a name. With the help of my grandmother days after my birth they settled on naming me Alexandria Christine Taylor and in honor of my grandmother and great Uncle, I would be called Christi.

My very first memory was of a house we lived in when I was a baby. I remember being held in my mother’s arms as she opened our front door onto a screened in porch, she took the next exit and made her way into the front yard. On one side of the yard was a gravel driveway and  on the other far side was a large shaded tree with an old hound dog, Ralph lying fast asleep underneath it. Beyond the tree and the driveway seemed to drop off like we were on the top of a very steep hill.

After reciting this memory to my mother she thought it impossible I could possibly remember that place because we had only lived there when I was a small baby.

We moved around a lot and when I was 2 or 3 we were moving into our new place and while my parents were unpacking the house I thought it best to wander off. Down the road I found an adorable little old lady with a large sunhat and a basket collecting Lima beans in her garden. Probably preparing to make some of her famous Lima bean soup. I walked right up to her, not shy in the slightest and started a conversation with her and helped her pick the beans.

It wasn’t before long that my parents were running up and down the road screaming my name. Grandma Milly, which is what I ended up calling the sweet old lady, took my hand and guided me to the road towards my mother’s voice. “Is this the little girl you’re looking for?”

While living at that house I spent every moment I could with Grandma Milly while my brother and sister were in school.

Around this same time my father was quite a big pot dealer and acid and cocaine supplier.

He went into work at the local restaurant one night and spent the night training a new hire to cook and at the end of the shift he was approached by one of the waitresses asking him what he did because that man was an undercover police officer. They were trying to bust my dad for trafficking drugs.

That’s when our family of 5 packed up all our stuff the very next day and drove down to what I call my hometown of New Port Richey, Florida.