Riders Against Domestic Violence Presents
The first thing he said the next morning was, “Did you sleep okay?”
I was standing at the kitchen counter, trying to decide whether I could put makeup over the bruise on my cheek.
I looked at him. He was pouring coffee into his favorite mug, the one our daughter had given him for Father’s Day.
“Not really,” I said.
He looked at my face, then quickly looked away.
“Come on, honey. We’re not going to start all that again, are we?”
I didn’t answer.
He walked over, kissed the top of my head, and told me he loved me.
And somehow, that hurt almost as much as what had happened the night before.
It Started Over Something So Small
I can’t even remember what we were arguing about.
I think it was money. Maybe something I’d bought at the store.
I remember telling him I didn’t want to argue.
He told me I was being disrespectful.
I tried to explain myself, but every time I opened my mouth, he got angrier.
Then he grabbed my arm.
Hard.
“Would you just listen to me for once?”
I pulled away.
And that’s when he hit me.
For a moment, everything went quiet.
I remember standing there with my hand against my face, looking at him.
He looked just as surprised as I felt.
“Oh, God,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to believe that the man standing in front of me wasn’t the same man who had just struck me.
But my cheek was burning.
And I was afraid.
Somehow, I Ended Up Comforting Him
He started crying.
He kept saying he was sorry.
He said work had been terrible. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was under so much pressure.
Then he said something I’ve heard before.
“You know I’d never intentionally hurt you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Because he had hurt me.
I was standing right there with the proof on my face.
But he looked so broken that I found myself putting my arms around him.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t okay.
He held me tightly and promised it would never happen again.
And I wanted that promise to be true more than anything.
I Didn’t Tell Anyone
My sister called the next afternoon.
I almost told her.
I even started to say, “Something happened last night.”
But then she asked if everything was okay.
And I said yes.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because I knew what she’d say.
Maybe because I wasn’t ready to hear it.
Maybe because once I told someone, I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.
I told her I was tired.
She said I sounded different.
I laughed and blamed it on a headache.
After we hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed and cried.
I wasn’t just hiding what he’d done.
I was hiding how frightened I’d become of the person I loved.
The Apology Didn’t Take Away the Fear
For the next few days, he was wonderful.
He brought me flowers.
He helped with dinner.
He asked if I needed anything.
He held my hand while we watched television.
And I kept thinking, Maybe this time things really will change.
But then something happened that I couldn’t explain.
One evening, he dropped a glass in the kitchen.
It shattered on the floor.
I jumped so hard that I knocked over my drink.
He stared at me.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
But I knew.
My body remembered what I was trying so hard to forget.
I had started watching his hands when he got angry.
I noticed when his voice changed.
I listened to how hard he closed the front door.
And whenever he seemed upset, I felt that familiar tightness in my chest.
I didn’t want another apology.
I wanted to stop being afraid of needing one.
The Part Nobody Sees
People see us at church.
They see us laughing with friends.
They see the pictures we post on Facebook.
They see him put his arm around me.
They tell me how lucky I am.
Sometimes I smile and agree.
Because there are good days.
There are days when we laugh together and I remember why I fell in love with him.
And those days make everything harder to understand.
I don’t walk around hating my husband.
I walk around wishing I could trust him again.
I wish I didn’t tense up when he gets frustrated.
I wish I didn’t wonder whether a disagreement will turn into something worse.
I wish I could tell him I’m unhappy without worrying about his reaction.
Most of all, I wish I could stop blaming myself.
Because somewhere in my mind, there’s still a little voice asking:
What if I hadn’t argued?
What if I’d just stayed quiet?
What if I’d handled it differently?
But I know I shouldn’t have to find the perfect words to keep someone from hitting me.
Then It Happened Again
It wasn’t the next day.
It wasn’t even the next week.
Enough time passed that I began to relax.
I started believing we had moved past it.
Then one night, he got angry because I didn’t answer my phone.
I’d been in the shower.
I showed him the wet towel. I showed him the missed call.
He accused me of making excuses.
I remember thinking, Please, not again.
He grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk away.
I told him he was hurting me.
He didn’t let go.
I started crying.
And suddenly he released my arm, stepped back, and said, “Look what you made me do.”
I stood there rubbing my wrist.
I wanted to scream that I hadn’t made him do anything.
But I was afraid of what would happen if I said it.
So I stayed quiet.
Later, he apologized.
Again.
And I realized something that frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
I was beginning to recognize the apology before it even came.
I Still Don’t Know What I’m Going to Do
I wish I could tell you I packed my bags that night.
I didn’t.
I wish I could tell you I stopped loving him.
I haven’t.
There are bills, a mortgage, children, and years of memories.
There’s the fear of starting over.
There’s the fear of what might happen if I try to leave.
And there’s still that part of me that remembers the man who used to make me feel safe.
But something has changed.
I can’t keep telling myself that an apology erases what happened.
I can’t keep pretending that being afraid in my own home is normal.
And I can’t keep carrying the responsibility for choices I didn’t make.
I don’t have all the answers.
But for the first time, I’m beginning to understand that I don’t have to figure everything out by myself.
If You’ve Been There
Maybe you know what it’s like to hear someone apologize while you’re still hurting.
Maybe you’ve covered a bruise and told people you bumped into something.
Maybe you’ve found yourself comforting the very person who frightened you.
Maybe you’ve believed the promise that it would never happen again.
And maybe you’ve been ashamed when it did.
Please hear this.
You did not cause the violence.
You didn’t deserve it because you argued, disagreed, spent money, missed a phone call, or said something your partner didn’t like.
Violence is a choice made by the person who uses it.
And an apology, no matter how emotional or sincere it sounds, does not replace accountability, safety, or lasting change.
You don’t have to make a decision about your entire future today.
If you’re afraid, a trained domestic violence advocate can help you think through your options and develop a safety plan without pressuring you to leave or stay.
Leaving can sometimes increase danger, so your circumstances and safety matter.
Faith for the Road Ahead
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1 (KJV)
Faith doesn’t mean pretending everything is okay.
It doesn’t mean accepting violence or waiting indefinitely for someone to change.
You can pray for someone and still protect yourself.
You can believe in forgiveness without putting yourself back in danger.
And you can seek help without feeling that you’ve failed your marriage or your faith.
Your safety matters.
We Are the Bridge
At Riders Against Domestic Violence, we know that sometimes the hardest part of asking for help is admitting what’s happening.
Especially when the person hurting you is someone you still love.
That’s why we share these stories.
Not to tell survivors what they should have done.
Not to judge them for staying.
But to help someone recognize that what they’re experiencing matters and that support is available.
RADV is not a shelter or crisis hotline. Our mission is to help connect survivors with trusted organizations and professional resources.
If you’re in the United States, the National Domestic Violence Hotline is available at 800-799-SAFE (7233) or thehotline.org. If your phone or internet activity may be monitored, consider using a safer device or asking an advocate about safer communication options.
If you’re in immediate danger, contact emergency services when safe.
Visit RADV.org for survivor resources and information.
We Are the Bridge.
And to the woman standing in her kitchen, trying to cover the bruise before anyone sees it:
You deserve mornings when you don’t have to hide what happened the night before.
You deserve disagreements that don’t end in fear.
You deserve a home where you feel safe.
And you deserve more than another apology.
đź’ś Riders Against Domestic Violence
We Are the Bridge.
RADV.org