How Did I Get Here 01: The Pain

Did I Get Here PT: 01 The Pain

Prologue:

This is PT: 01 of a new lesbian story group on unexpectedly finding love through sharing pain, despair, and suffering. I enjoyed writing two earlier stories in a similar but slightly different category, which encourages me to write this story for the 2023 New Year. I hope my dedicated readers enjoy it.

How Did I Get Here PT: 01 is a Slowburn hard-hitting Lesbian Romance story based on two primary young female characters. Additionally, a few characters from Love Is Where One Finds It 02 (PT 01/02) is in this new story, so for clarity, it will be better to first read those two stories.

All descriptive sex in this story is lesbian, with young ladies aged 18 or older. Most explicit lesbian sex scenes feature a strong but loving woman as the definite TOP controlling the action.

This story and all Billyslate lesbian romance stories are 100% Fiction in every aspect.

Edited By Billyslate:

I am indebted to Candy_Kane54 (CK) for editing my 24 Lesbian Romance Stories posted on LIT in 2021/22, as well as for her encouragement, and guidance. I could have never written these 24 Lesbian stories without CK's unwavering support.

Thanks for sticking with me for 2-Years, sometimes emailing me 3 or 4X in one day, clarifying, who was saying what in a critical paragraph. I remember her once writing me, well Billyslate, you have completely confounded & befuddled both me and Grammarly with this paragraph. Yet, CK hung in there with me, editing my stories for 2-years.

Finally, after 24 Months of Intense Instruction, CK has awarded Billyslate her version of the Adult Literature Editing (ALE) Certificate.

CK then tosses me into the Cold-Cruel world of Literotica Adult Stories, saying Billyslate, you are now officially on your own!

Enjoy

CONFUSION AND DENIAL

I slowly wake, my entire body seemingly racked in pain. My brain is trying to cope with why I am sleeping on this very hard surface, with two little warm spots molded to me. I immediately realize the warmth must be from my 4-year-old-Judith Ann (Judy) and 2-year-old. Charlie Mae (Char). I am Meredith Ruth Johnson (Austin), age 22.

I am groggy laying on my side, which is not the best position for holding my girls close. So, I try turning over and my body is torn with a ferocious blast of burning pain, especially my back and shoulders, "I screech pitifully, with Judy crying out MOM!"

Char whines "Mommy" snuggling even closer to me!

I say, "Shush baby, mommy is okay as the memories of screaming and running in abject terror explode into mental focus."

I am in a strange place The Sojourner Truth House (STH) in Milwaukee, WI, a safe house(s) for abused women and their children. I force my eyes open, seeing the three of us sleeping on this small hard-as-nails cot. My mind goes into immediate denial; no this can't be me waking up two weeks before Christmas in a strange room with my girls, my body in awful pain if I move one iota.

I hear noises, and then a soft tap on the door. I say okay and a lady pops her head in the door, "I am Ann, an STH family counselor, and heard you scream, so am just checking for safety."

I answer, "My name is Meredith, and I am okay, just screaming from the pain, and vivid memories of last night's horror flooding my consciousness."

Ann smiles, "That is not an unusual sound to my ears, but I needed to check and be certain everyone is okay. Try resting a bit more with the girls; I'll return later with a Social Worker from Milwaukee County Health Services. The girls are probably exhausted but will be starving later, so we can quickly give them soup, a sandwich, and a little treat."

I thank Ann as she silently closes the door, me breaking down miserably in tears as soon as the girls and I are alone again. I want to never wake up from this frightful nightmare, but my two beautiful little girls now solely depend on me for survival.

Again, I ask myself the all too familiar question!

How Did I Get Here?

MEMORIES 10 DEC 2022

I was born 22 years ago in St. Croix Falls, WI, a small city, of 2,500 located in Polk County; a farming region of nearly 45,000 people. Our major crops are Soy Bean, Corn, and Potatoes, along with beef/cattle. Polk county is located in Northwestern WI, on the Minnesota border.

Born in 2000, I am an only child since the OB doctor warned my parents having another child will be very dangerous for mom. Most of our extended family are farmers, although mom and dad work in the city. Dad works in the downtown branch of the local post office (USPS), while mom works for the St Croix Falls Board of Education.

My life was unremarkable growing up in St Croix Falls. I started elementary school at 6, then onto Jr. and Sr. high school. I was a good, but not exceptional student, making mostly Bs, and graduated from high school with a solid 3.20 GPA.

At fifteen, I made the cheerleading squad as a sophomore, which was an honor in our small community. At this point, I meet and start dating my future husband, Travis Ray Johnson. He is our high school football team's quarterback and the guy every girl wants for a boyfriend.

We dated steadily for three years, starting to have sex when I am eighteen. I got pregnant a few months later, shortly after graduating from high school. So Travis and I quickly marry, and Judy arrives on the scene seven months later. Judy and then Char are born in Northern, WI, although Travis has been itching to leave the hicks since a year after we are married. He works as a tractor mechanic at one of the larger farms in Polk county, earning decent pay.

Travis never applies himself to anything other than football, so does not advance after working at the farm for two years. He constantly harps on leaving farm country and heading for the big city, which is Milwaukee; so being a faithful GB Packers fan he won't move out of state.

Although Travis is lazy, he is thought to be a decent mechanic repairing farm equipment engines. After a few failed tries, Travis finally lands a job in Milwaukee at the BIG motorcycle company. We are rushed in moving to Milwaukee since that facility is online to manufacture a brand-new engine, and production needs to go active soon.

Travis's job is in Quality Control (QC) performance testing every 20^th engine off the production line. So now I am mostly on my own all day in Milwaukee with two little girls, 2 and 4 years old.

This is my first time so far away from my parents, extended family, and friends, and a bit scary for me. Travis has always been somewhat controlling from when we first started dating, seeming to treat me as one of his football teammates. I do not like him trying to control me, but my mom thinks it's cute, and a good sign he loves me.

Travis had occasionally exhibited jealousy and possessiveness in St Croix Falls, but it explodes after our move to Milwaukee. He chooses to rent a house without asking my opinion, and I never feel safe in that section of the city. Continual police, fire, and ambulance sirens are screaming around day and night. So I keep Judy and Char inside most of the time when we are at home.

Six weeks after we move in, Travis and I have a huge fight over my not feeling safe in this place, and he slaps me for the first time. Travis had begun invading my personal space after our first week in Milwaukee but never struck me. He does not hit me again for a couple of months, so silly old me feels it's a one-time thing.

After making friends with guys at the plant, Travis begins drinking daily after work with his new buddies. He also becomes crazy jealous and possessive during this transition period. I hardly ever leave home for any social activities since we only have one car. On weekends, Travis takes me grocery shopping and to the large mall with our girls. We have a small strip mall nearby, but I'm too scared to walk there with my girls.

Nearly four months after our move to Milwaukee, Travis slaps me a second time. From that point, he begins to aggressively complain about me dressing nice for other men. Starts to frequently yell at me, scaring our girls, and then starts slapping me more frequently.

I know this situation is getting very bad, but do not have anyone to confide in. Travis keeps me isolated in Milwaukee, so I do not have any female friends, nor will he let me attend any of the local churches.

I am extremely embarrassed and do not have the emotional strength to tell my family in Northern, WI about his hitting me. I try doing everything to please him because his anger has escalated so much in the past four months, and I am fearful for my girls.

LAST NIGHT

We have been in Milwaukee for nearly six months, with Travis setting a pattern of drinking more heavily and later on Friday nights. So, I start to worry, expecting trouble when Travis is still not home at eight pm.

I am 100% certain he is at a local bar drinking with his work buddies and will have a nasty attitude when he finally gets home. But all I can do is worry about what will happen when he comes home since there is nowhere I can go to escape his over-the-top vicious wrath when he drinks.

Travis roars into our driveway and jumps out of his car screaming his dinner had better be on the table, as both girls cling to my dress tail. I do not have any idea of what time Travis will decide to come home, so I feed our girls soup and sandwiches at 7:00 pm. Travis goes ballistic after stomping into the kitchen and sees nothing on the table.

At that precise moment, Travis's slapping me quickly elevates to a closed-fist attack and I barely escape with my life. He is itching for a fight and without any warning violently slams me into the living room wall. Bouncing off the wall, I see his fist coming at me ducking quickly just as he fully unloads. His fist grazes my face and smashes a huge hole in the wall. Luckily, while evading Travis's fist, I push off the wall with all my Cheerleader Acrobatic Strength, while trying to also protect my face.

Travis has been drinking so heavily that he stumbles badly from my shove, falling hard over an easy chair and smacking his head solidly on the hardwood floor. He's dazed by the hard lick to his head groaning loudly, so I grab my purse with money and cell phone, and my girls.

We frantically escape from the house, and I am dialing 911 while we desperately run down the darkened street. When the call connects, I give the 911 person our street address, and she says to stay on the line and not disconnect from her.

Travis has gotten up from his crushing fall and is now drunkenly chasing us down the street. As I run with Char in my arms while dragging Judy as fast as her little legs can go, I hear a siren getting closer and closer. The police arrive as Travis is chasing us down the street screaming absolute filth that he is going to kill us sorry ungrateful bitches.

The police car stops between Travis and us, with an officer tossing him to the ground as he resists. Travis is arrested and charged with assault and battery, resisting arrest, public drunkenness as well as disturbing the peace. He is handcuffed and put in the back seat of the police car, while we wait for a 2^nd patrol car. The backup patrol car has a female officer who will help me collect some personal items from our place.

The lady officer goes into the house with me, and I grab as many personal items as possible in a short time. I also show her the badly damaged wall, where Travis tried to punch me, and the smashed living room furniture from his fall.

We leave the house in the patrol car and by this time, I am just going through the motions as the lady officer escorts me into STH.

ACCEPTING REALITY

After a week at STH, my terror and hysteria begin to stabilize or fade, so I need to face the realities of our extremely difficult situation. My facial bruise has gone, but my back still hurts if I move too quickly. I am exhausted from mental frustration, and repeatedly asking myself the same question;

How Did I Get Here?

I still cry every day, especially with Christmas being a week away. Travis has always controlled the purse strings since I am a stay-at mom for our girls. As usual, he waits until the last minute for us to shop for the girl's Christmas gifts. Christmas had always been such a wonderful time at my parent's home, and I am now in this depressing situation with my girls.

The STH Counselor, Ann tries to cheer me, saying that several Milwaukee companies and individuals donate Christmas items to STH. But all I can see are Judy and Char not getting any of the special gifts they asked Santa for.

***

It's now a week into JAN 2023 and we have been at STH for nearly four weeks. I meet regularly with my counselor Ann and different Milwaukee County Health Services social workers, learning in-depth about Domestic Abuse, and STH. Such as the average safe house stay is 30 days and the longest is usually 60.

These STH safe houses are in secret locations since many abusers search daily for their victims (wives or partners). Reportedly, more than 50% of abused women return home in a few days or weeks, going through that never-ending cycle of abuse/denial over and over again.

Domestic abuse occurs at every economic level, in all racial/ethnic groups, and surprisingly most religions in our US society. Super Bowl Day reportedly is the worst single day of spousal abuse every year. No one is certain of this claim as factual, but the NFL has begun running PSAs on Domestic Violence.

STH and the Family Peace Center want victims to understand, their program is not just about safe houses, but focuses highly on understanding and combating all kinds and aspects of domestic violence in our society.

Since the STH family-oriented safe house locations are secret, teachers are required on-site for the children. We live in a family-style environment with shared meals as much as possible. Those of us who are still in denial often eat sandwiches/soup or cereal/ice cream in our small quarters.

For these and other reasons, Ann is urging me to quickly decide on my, Judy, and Char's future as we have been at the STH safehouse for nearly 30 days. So here I am a young not yet 23-year-old mother of two girls, having never before been on my own, needing to make such a grave decision for our lives.

Finally, I overcome the embarrassment and contact my parents through an STH non-traceable phone line. Mom and Dad hastily try talking me into going back to the Milwaukee rental house. Travis had quickly called them after posting his bail bond, crying pitifully claiming he was sorry for his anger. He truly loves me, blaming his violent attack against the girls and me on extreme work pressure with motorcycle engine production deadlines. Conveniently, he sure did not mention his getting drunk nearly every day.

Mom and dad take his side completely refusing to seriously listen or understand my terror and hopelessness, especially fear of him hurting our girls. They do not accept that Travis has slapped me several times before the wild Friday evening horror show. Nor do they believe the terrible gutter names he called me and the girls on that night from hell, threatening to kill us ungrateful bitches.

After this crushing conversation with my parents, I know without question my girls and I are totally on our own, with me just having an HS Diploma. I have no real work experience outside of the home, so am looking at a flaming disaster.

I inform Ann of my decision to relocate somewhere else in the USA, preferably to a warm climate. My thoughts are it will be less costly for us to survive without the huge winter heating costs Northern Wisconsin is famous for.

Ann and the county social worker(s) suggest the girls and I relocate to the general area of one of these southern midsize cities; Savannah-Tybee Island, GA, Charlotte, NC, Jacksonville, FL, Petersburg, VA, or Nashville, TN. STH has reasonable resources in these areas via sister women in crisis organizations, so the transition should be fairly seamless.

Judy, Char, and I must use a fictitious family name for the next 1 or 2 years, then we can go back to my maiden name (Austin). The name transition depends on whether Travis continues trying to locate the girls and me. So we may have to permanently use the fictitious name if he is persistent in his search for us. In this mode, I may never see my nuclear or extended family again unless Travis dies.

I select the Nashville area to relocate since Ann notes this Women's Crisis Center has just recently opened and is not yet filled. Also, for some unknown reason, I feel a strong tug for the girls and me to restart our lives over in Nashville.

NASHVILLE WOMEN'S CRISIS CENTER

A week later in the dead of night, a minivan collects several families from the STH Safe House, being relocated to other parts of the USA. My girls and I change Minivans late at night somewhere along the way and arrive in the Nashville area near midnight.

The STH/Crisis Center secret relocations always occur under the cover of darkness for enhanced security of the abuse victims.

Although I understand the need for secrecy, the travel to Nunnelly is harrowing, especially when the driver makes sudden turns in the darkness to prevent our minivan from being followed. The first time this happens, I nearly peed in my pants, while trying to calm my girls who cried out.

We also experience a minivan change somewhere along the way, occurring in pitch-black darkness which scares me shitless. Luckily, the girls were asleep in my arms, knocked out from fear and exhaustion, sleeping through the exchange.

I keep thinking this nightmare will never end, with the ever so often reoccurring question.

How Did I Get Here?

STH provides its clients/residents with relocation financial resources sufficient to live for about 6 months at a crisis center if you follow their spending guidelines. Ann, my STH Counselor also recommends a 30 to 90-day isolation time at the new center, so you then have another 90 to 150 days to find employment and housing.

I am very unhappy living in crisis centers, so my first goal during the initial 2-weeks of isolation time will focus on finding a job and a place for us to live. This is a daunting task since I do not have any school records, work history, banking information, or references in my fictitious family name.

Judy, Char, and I are assigned to a women's crisis center in Nunnelly, TN an hour's drive southwest of Nashville. Ann strongly advises me to avoid Nashville like the plague for 90 days until my girls and I are most likely off Travis's radar.

I will do my best in avoiding Nashville for 90 days but certainly will risk going there if work and a decent place to live are available. So after a week of learning the crisis center resident rules and guidelines, I begin searching the internet for jobs.

It's not going to be easy since I do not have any formal education or special skills other than being a cheerleader. I do not even have an HS Diploma in my fictitious family name.

STH arranges for us victims to have valid social security cards and numbers. Once we return to using our actual given and family name(s), the withholdings from the STH-issued SS Card will automatically transfer to our previous government-issued valid SS number.

SEARCHING FOR A NEW LIFE

It's now been two weeks since the girls and I arrive at the Nashville Women's Crisis Center in the middle of the night. After our incoming client processing, we immediately go to our quarters, which are a bit more spacious than STH in Milwaukee. Also, the facility is new and situated in more of a suburban area than STH, still being here concerns me for some reason. My internal life support warning bell is clanging go with high caution for something is amiss.