I told my self I was a good mom. I told myself over and over again that I was doing what was best for her, but I wasn’t. I was doing what was best for me. I so desperately wanted to be with her that I was willing to give up my own daughter to do it. To have the freedom to drink and party when I wanted to. To not have to feel guilty for having a small child at home while I was sleeping around and drinking myself stupid.
Fast forward another year. Her and I had been broken up for a few months. I started seeing him and I fell completely head over heels in love with him within a matter of weeks. I thought I was finally over her. We spent everyday together and even started planning on having a baby together and getting married. I loved on impulse but I didn’t know why. I thought everything I felt for him was real, but I would learn soon enough that I couldn’t distinguish between what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
He fell so deeply in love with me that I became a possession to him. He started to tell me I belonged to him. And when we would have sex he would ask me over and over again, “who do you belong to?” I’d have to respond “you” and it was then that he would get off. I didn’t realize it then, but he was becoming my worst nightmare. I thought it was love. I thought finally someone wanted me. Completely and fully me. I was right, but it wasn’t in a way that was healthy or good for anyone.
About a month into our relationship I was at work when my brother called me. I was dancing around the halls and singing songs to everyone, not knowing that something horrible had just happened. “I need you to come home right now.” He sounded upset and scared. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” I couldn’t just leave work. I needed a reason to give my boss. “I can’t tell you over the phone. I just need you to come home right now.” “Ok. You’re kind of freaking me out. What’s going on? I have to tell my boss something. Is everyone ok? Is someone hurt?” “No. I need you to come home now. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. They’re gone. They’re both gone.”
My heart stopped. “Who’s gone? What do you mean?” Now at the time I had two little dogs. Little chihuahuas I had had since they were 8wks and 10wks old. They were almost 4 and 5. Five days shy of Kyra’s fourth birthday actually. So I thought my brother was calling me to tell me they had gotten out of the fence. It had happened a couple times, but we always found them right around the corner. “You mean Kyra and Bacardi? Where did they go? Should I post something in Craigslist?” I was starting to get panicked because the sound of my brothers voice wasn’t one that said they might have gotten out. It sounded more serious. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re telling me. They just got out right? What happened?”
My brother burst into tears. Sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. They’re gone. Bess killed them and they’re gone.” At this point I stopped listening. I could hear my brother apologizing over and over again, asking me if I wanted him to come get me, but I couldn’t say anything. “That’s. No. That’s. There’s no way. Bess wouldn’t do that. What do you mean? Where was he? He was home? How did. Come get me. Please.”
I hadn’t started crying yet, I was just in shock. I walked trough the halls like a zombie, just looking for an exit. I couldn’t breathe. There’s no way he would let that happen. He knew how much they meant to me. I just kept thinking maybe they’re wrong. Maybe they’re not dead. Why is nobody taking them to the emergency!? I started freaking out and then came the tears. I called my brother again and started screaming at him. “Take them to the emergency vet!! Take them!! We can still save them! Please! I’ll meet you there. Don’t let them die. Please don’t let them die!!” He just kept telling me they were gone. “They’re gone. They’re gone. There’s nothing we could do. They’re gone.” I was empty. The two littlest loves of my life, were gone.
We got home and I rushed outside to see them. My brother stopped me and said they had already picked them up. They were in pieces and he didn’t want me to see them that way. I just held the bags surrounding their little bodies and sobbed. Koda and Timber were laying by the blood and crying. Sobbing, like they had just lost their own babies. They were gone. Just gone. I just sat there. I couldn’t even cry anymore. I felt like someone had taken the last little pieces of my heart and shoved them into my throat.
“What happened?” I asked him this time. “What happened to them?” He just stared at me and shook his head. “I don’t know. I put them outside so I could take a nap. They wouldn’t stop barking and it was bugging me. The next thing I heard was them screaming. I waited until they stopped and then I went outside and there they were.” “You waited until they stopped screaming?” I started screaming at him so loudly it didn’t even sound like English. “You waited until they stopped screaming!?!? Why didn’t you save them!?!? They needed you!!! Why did you even put them out there unsupervised with the other big dogs!?” I couldn’t stop screaming and hitting him.
“Stop! Why are you blaming me? Theyre just little dogs. We’ll get you some new ones.” It was right then. Right in that moment that I stopped loving him. It was like a light switch. Everything that I had felt for him, just turned off, and I hated him. I hated him with everything inside of me. And it was then that our relationship ended. Not in the sense that we broke up, but more in the sense that I just could not stand to be around him. He acted like it was nothing. My two little dogs were killed mercilously and he acted like it was just nothing.
We took them to get cremated and I tried to stay with him. I tried to stay in love with him, but it was gone. And he couldn’t even tell why. He was so lost by why I had changed and was being so “different and depressed.” “Just snap out of it. It happened. It’s over. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” And because I was so desperate to not be alone, I just silently hated him while he still held me at night and kissed me during the day. I just silently hated him, until one one day I made him leave. I told him I needed space, but in reality I needed to be away from him. And it was that same weekend I’d found out she was now in a relationship with the woman who had catfished her. I felt like my whole world was just ending. That was the start of my first end.