So this is where the story gets interesting, and this is why I really can't stand to be around anyone who has been drinking Blue Moon beer.
It started at the party that we went to on New Years Eve. This was my first encounter with "drunk Charlie". He bought me a fifth of Dekuyper Watermelon Pucker and a case of Corona for himself, then we went to a party at one of his friend's houses, about 40 miles away from mine. Charlie really wasn't the type that could hold his alcohol and he got really drunk, really quickly. So we had all been drinking the whole night, and Charlie started to get mad that I was talking to my ex, even thought he knew that they were all in the same circle of friends, and would be at the party. He also knew that my ex and I had remained friends. And this wasn't an "i'll fuck you if my boyfriend isn't there" type of friendship, it was a legitimate "let's give each other advice on how to improve our lives and be successful" type of friendship. Well, Charlie pulled me into his friend's bathroom because he was pissed off, and as his friend and I were trying to calm him down and reassure him that there was nothing going on between my ex and I, he ended up hitting me. His friend stood up for me, but I regarded it as a "he's just drunk". Type of thing. Wrong choice on my part. I ended up driving us home and making him get into the shower to sober up, and everything seemed gravy the next day.
Charlie came up to my dorm at college one Saturday night with a case of Blue Moon. I figured it would be a calm night. We'd drink, watch TV, then go to sleep. Not the case. Charlie just wanted to get laid, and as a responsible eighteen year old I made him invest in condoms, which I kept in my underwear drawer. Now, I must explain. At this point, I figured, my virginity is gone, so who cares if we have sex...right?
So Charlie apparently kept a count on how many condoms I had in my drawer, and when he counted one, and thought one of them was missing, he completely freaked out, throwing me against the wall and smacking my head into it over and over again. I finally was able to get a hold of his friend to call and ask if there was anything I could do to calm him down, and then my service cut out. Charlie then threw me against my bed, which had been raised, so the bottom was hitting me right in the mid-back area. He grabbed my wrists...hard, and began slamming my back into my bed, the whole time accusing me of cheating on him.
This is so hard for me to type at the moment, seeing as, every time I go through this story, I feel like I am reliving it again, and again, and again. I can still feel his grip on my arms. I can still see his face, red with anger staring me right in the eyes, and his hot breath on my face. I honestly thought I was going to die that night.
I grabbed my phone, telling Charlie that i wanted to call my family to say goodbye one last time. This is when he picked up my phone and threw it against the wall, breaking it into three pieces. He then threw me into my metal closet, then left the room and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a butter knife (I know, it seems funny now, but at the time I was terrified) and he pointed it at me, telling me that he would kill me and my family. When I finally got the knife away from him, I stashed it under my mattress and ran to the bathroom, where I attempted to lock myself in.
During that time, Charlie had gotten another knife from the kitchen, and pushed the door so hard, that the lock gave way and he came barging in. He said that he was just going to kill himself, and tears started running down his face. I guess once I saw the tears I felt bad, and I still don't know why. I told him I was going to call my friend, Jordan, who lived in the dorm right below mine. Since my phone was broken, I only had the dorm phone to call people on campus.
Jordan came running up and saw Charlie with the knife in his had, threatening to commit suicide. I begged Jordan not to call campus police, but he did anyway. Once they got there, I didn't tell them about the abuse. To this day, I don't know why I didn't. I feel so stupid for just letting that go.
The officer gave me the choice of sending him to the hospital to sober, or to let him stay at my dorm and sleep. Being the complete idiot I was at eighteen, I chose to let him stay and go home in the morning. As a result of all this, i had to have a conflict mediation with my residential adviser who said that this was all my fault. I can't control what other people do, so fuck you adviser.
After all of this, I wasn't able to walk in a straight line for three or four months, and I wasn't able to stand upright for the same amount of time. My body calibration was completely off, probably from having my head hit against objects so many times.
I made Charlie buy me a new phone the next day, costing him about 300 dollars. He deserved soooo much more for being a complete psychopath.
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