An open letter to a tech Sociopath - you abused and raped me in our home and left me broken and homeless while basking in your follower’s support.

Vee Kay
Vee Kay
Aug 26, 2017 · 8 min read

I haven’t felt a loving human connection since you put me in the E.R during your affair three years ago. I lost all attraction to you at that point and that was when you began to force me into sex. I felt disgusted by your advances, I could swear that your kisses left a painful, acidic residue and your hands were freezing and caused invisible bruises. This lingered on my skin and memory and now I feel it when anyone else touches me.

I haven’t had decent sleep or a day without anxiety since the night five years ago when I woke up in the middle of the night to you beating me. Then again a year later when you confessed in grim detail how you had been planning on killing me in my sleep for six months, in your twisted logic murder meant that you could have an affair without any guilt.

When I felt calm enough to sleep in the same room, I still begged you to please not hurt me in my sleep.

I felt like an awful partner. As I did with everything else, I blamed myself. You could claim to feel guilty, you could say you were sorry, but nothing ever changed or happened as a result. All I could do was take responsibility for the things you did and try to do something about it. So I blamed myself and tried to heal you.

You made sure that I was kept hidden away while my existence became a part of your unending lies and fraudulent persona. I was the subject of bragging; ‘perfect’, ‘supportive’, ‘wonderful’, ‘angelic’, the loyal and endearing counterpart to a proud and powerful head of household and breadwinner. Nothing could be wrong within the fairy tale relationship you guarded from outside influence.

You bragged about taking such good care of me to your business contacts and social media followers while abandoning me in a strange place without food or money for 72 hours. You went to lavish dinners, stayed at hotels, flirted and manipulated others until you remembered I existed and had a pizza sent to the door.

This was your level of “concern” for my well-being in everything. If you couldn’t post it on twitter or use it to posture yourself as a hero in front of others it didn’t matter.

I was at-risk for heart failure and developing various physical and mental health problems and you refused to get me health insurance because it was “too expensive”. You were spending well over 1000$ a month on takeout and regularly made spontaneous, reckless financial decisions but saving my life for a fraction of that cost was off the table.

When rumors about my existence began to spread, a business partner demanded to meet me. You told me to behave. I already knew very well that obedience to the breadwinner is a necessary part of survival as a supporting spouse. Despite lying for you and beaming smiles, this person put a part of the puzzle together and became horrified that you had never lifted a finger for my mental and physical health. They did more for me in a few, small, nearly effortless gestures than you had done in seven years.

You wanted me to die. Imagine the likes and the follows that would have ensued! You had to settle for stealing my identity and blaming me for everything in public instead.

I felt and still feel confused, because you were both cruel and kind. I don’t know how to communicate what it is like to be physically, sexually and mentally abused by the person who is your entire world, the only one who tells you that you’re beautiful and important. The impact of your daily emotional terror nearly drove me, an empathetic, depressed individual to consider and act on suicide many times until it became a regular coping mechanism to think of death. That was my only power in our relationship, everything else you held onto with 100% authority.

I know this letter would be pointless to you. You cannot feel what I feel, you do not understand or care why other people suffer and you often acted as if your horrible actions never occurred at all.

I still feel sharp pains in the phalanges of my feet from the time where I pulled away from you and you stomped on them repeatedly in your boots. You knew that I was disabled in my feet and struggled just to walk and you still did this. I would complain of the pain and asked for a brace for my toes numerous times and you would refuse to acknowledge it.

There was no such thing as personal space allowed in your presence, when I was most vulnerable and hurting from your actions you invaded that space with vicious intent.

Whenever I said I wanted to be alone after one of your episodes you would stalk me from room to room making that disturbing expression between rage and an attempt at a smile. You would open the shower curtain when I said I wanted you to leave. When I was on my computer or reading you would sit and stare, making cutting comments and trying different and more absurd lies until I lost my temper. You would spy on me to see when I was naked and force yourself on me over and over and over.

After I had gotten sick of trying to communicate, you would follow me into our bedroom claiming to ‘help’. I would say “No” every single time, I would shrug away, push you away, cover myself tightly in blankets and you never let up. You would only try something else. I didn’t want sex, I didn’t want you to touch my butt, I didn’t want oral sex, I didn’t want you to touch my feet, I didn’t want a massage. I wanted you to leave me alone, and you never did.

I would look over at you grinding your teeth together in rage and realize that you were about to explode, resistance meant provoking one of your screaming episodes, delusions, violence, being abandoned at home for days, cheated on, revenge in the form of a later outburst, and ultimately the threat that after being told I would never need a career of any kind and would always have your support, you would leave me homeless and destitute. All of these proved to be legitimate fears.

I would have to choose between having a ‘peaceful’ night letting you do what you wanted and feeling like suicidal garbage, or an having argument with a compulsive liar that would change nothing and you would claim to forget the next day.

I never wanted to fight with you. I wanted us to be happy. I wanted to be good for you and not ungrateful for your support. I told you how painful it was, I told you to get off, that you were hurting me and you wouldn’t listen. I hated how any response my body gave meant complete and total consent to do whatever you wanted. I felt embarrassed and ashamed at going catatonic or not being able to perform, but nothing felt more disgusting than having an orgasm. I said as much, and like everything else it didn’t phase you or provoke any kind of responsibility for your actions.

You would act as if nothing out of place had happened, and I would blame myself for everything. I would then take a shower thinking about killing myself while you would lay in bed and jerk off to forcing me.

I tried to communicate with you about my sexual pain and the most I ever got was an insincere “Sorry dear”.

Your emotional abuse, neglect and disinterest in what you did to me for so long still feels so twisted in my mind. I had helped you recover from your own sexual trauma and you still did this to me! You knew that I had been molested as a teenager and you still did this to me! You knew that I was innocent and you blamed me for everything!

I spent virtually every day of my life for seven years trying to keep you stable, happy, sane and successful. When I first met you, you were absolutely in shambles and had given up on life. I carried you through college, your own trauma, our relationship, and throughout your career providing you things I never received any credit for.

All I wanted was to spend time with you, and for you to actually work on your issues instead of finding a thousand ways to lie about it . Instead you repaid me by breaking my bones, raping me, driving me to suicide, causing mental breakdowns that developed into PTSD and Anxiety and finally stealing my identity as the victim in our relationship for the benefit of social media praise and fraudulently escaping your contractual obligations to me. You had sworn numerous times that we were married in spirit and that no matter what I would never lack for financial support.

You tried your best to convince me that I was safe with you while manipulating me into being unable to escape. You told me never to get a job because that was your role, that it was cute to be seriously overweight while you controlled my diet for the worse, that I needed you for my mental health despite being the source of my worst issues: you said and did anything you could to remove my ability to take care of myself. I was reliant on you entirely.

You promised that once money started coming in we would actually have time together and you would get better, not taking out your day out on me and not letting your addiction to power and status turn you into a monster. You said you were going to “buy my baby a house” and that we’d live in peace from then on, and then the moment money started coming in you went berserk and let your absolute worst come out, leaving me because I dared to suggest we live in separate homes for my own safety.

In your own words, you would be “nothing without me”, and here i am, left with nothing because of you.

I am completely broken and I cannot function in life. I am constantly humiliated by your actions as I have found myself weeping in front of potential partners because intimacy feels sickening and wrong. You knew this was happening while we were still together, you even made fun of it by saying I was just being ‘sassy’ and a ‘hedgehog’ for refusing your advances. You made fun of your own victim knowing it was your fault without the slightest concern that it was wrong.

I don’t want to tell you how I feel about you. Because I cannot get close to anyone else you are still my only frame of reference for how to feel things like love and joy and security. You did such a good job of manipulating me into feeling helpless and believing that no-one else could ever love me. Then after you humiliated me and made me beg and weep for you to return: you left and you let it be known to your ignorant followers that you never loved me at all, probably the only true thing you said about me since leaving.

You ruined my life. There is no fantastical ending where this trauma somehow makes me ‘stronger’, that kind of thing is only said by people who are uncomfortable with weakness. I am not a “survivor”. I am a victim, your victim. That is how I will remain for the rest of my life.

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