Ain't No Sharing You

Hurt Me To Love

I couldn't believe that I was the one he chose to be Mrs. Brandon Grant. We had done the grand wedding, the honeymoon and moved into our new home. Brandon had gotten a promotion at his job working as a marketing agent and my event planning company Allured was doing great. Our careers were great, but everything else just was whatever it was. Six months in the honeymoon phase had ended for me. I don't make excuses for anything. I let it be what it was. It wasn't all bad, but it wasn't the heaven on Earth I expected either. Sometimes you pray for things and you think you have the answer because you're impatient. You feel like "I didn't have to wait forever" for this one thing. Sometimes I feel like God has played a joke on me my entire life. Just when I would think that everything was going okay the rain would come and it would pour. It's just that sometimes life throws curveballs and you just don't know how to handle them.

When I loved, I loved hard. It didn't matter how many times Brandon hurt me on purpose or accidentally, I still loved him. I would be considered the "Queen of Second Chances". I always found a way to forgive. I guess you aren't truly tired of something or someone until you decide to change the situation.

I was just leaving a meeting for planning a sweet sixteen birthday party with a fifteen year old and her overbearing mother. To say that I was frustrated would've been an understatement. To ease my mind I turned on some music in my car as I cruised down the blvd. I was just thinking that I would would have to make a run to the store to grab some things for dinner when I got a text from Brandon.

Hey where are you? You should've been here almost an hour ago.

"Damn," I said out loud because I knew he was going to be pissed that I was late.

I pulled up to the house ten minutes later. I pulled up to my house in awe. I still couldn't believe that I lived there in a gated community. Brandon told me that I would never live in the hood again and he kept his promise. At least that was one promise that he kept.

"Camille, is there a reason that you're late," Brandon asked watching me kick off my black heels at the door.

I paused because I didn't hear him come from the living room and said, "I'm sorry. I--"

"Bitch, I didn't ask if you was sorry. I asked 'is there a reason you're late'," he yelled walking towards me.

"Brandon, my meeting ran late and then I was gonna to go to the store to grab something to eat for dinner. You're usually not home until later so I thought I had time to get things ready."

Before I could even finish explaining he had me pinned to the wall with his body weight. His 6'3, 220 pound frame towered over me as I closed my eyes for what I was sure was goin to be his fist caving in my chest for the thousandth time. This wasn't the first or second time he had me in that position. I knew that no matter how I played the situation out I was getting my ass handed to me.

I cried at the thought of what I just knew was coming next when Brandon started to squeeze my face with his hand. He moved my face until we were eye to eye.

"You need to work on being on time. You know I don't like when you don't have your ass where you say you're gonna be," he said squeezing tighter with each word.

It hurt like hell, but to squirm or say anything would've ended up with me being a punching bag for hours. I should've left the first time or the second time. I should've called the police and demanded that he go to counseling. I just loved him so much that I'd rather have him hurt me physically than to not have him at all. It didn't happen everyday or even every month, it only happened when I made Brandon mad.

"So, unless it's on my schedule, where are you supposed to be when you're done with work? Hmm?"

"Home."