Write about a time you wanted to leave, but couldn't.

A spring morning at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery
Westchester County, New York

I've wanted to leave my relationship with Steven since December, but I felt I couldn't because I had made a promise to him at the beginning of the relationship that I would never abandon him. Even after I discovered he had lied to me about his crime, even after he wrote me poison pen letters with cruel, mean attacks on my character, even after I discovered he had a "sex pal" he was writing to and phoning . . . even after all that I couldn't leave him. Well, I would leave him, but he would come back, and I'd allow him to come back.

On Tuesday when he called I determined I would end it with him. I tried to tell him I've met someone else. This led to a heated argument. Of course, our 15 minutes went quickly. I told him I didn't want to wait another 2-3 days before we talked again, and asked that he call me the next day (yesterday). He said, "I'll try." I said, "Steven, this is important." He said, "I'll try." I said, "Steven, that's not fair. Please call me tomorrow." He hesitated, then said, "Okay, I'll call you tomorrow." Then, "I love you, Danny." He said it twice, "I love you, Danny." He never says my name, only calls me pet name, generic pen names he probably uses with all his women. Because he called me "Danny," I knew intuitively he would not call me yesterday, and he didn't.

So now I've blocked his number. He can't call me again. If I receive a letter, I won't read it. I won't write to him again, either.

I read once that if someone is stabbed to leave the knife in them so they don't bleed out so quickly. The knife helps to keep the blood in the body. Pull out the knife, and they bleed to death. Steven's lies about his crime felt like a knife in my heart. i wanted to leave, but I couldn't. It was too sudden, to have him in my life one day and out of it the next. I waited a whole month to confront him with what I knew about my crime. By then I had healed from the shock of what I had learned. But then Steven stabbed me himself. Attacked my character, accused me of cheating on him, refused to talk with me about his crime, threatened to terminate our relationship if I didn't stop asking to talk about his crime. Now I've been re-stabbed. I still couldn't leave him. I needed more time before I could pull the knife out.

The sex letter I received that was intended for someone else was so disgusting and sick I didn't even feel the knife as it went in again through the healed and thickened scar that had formed around the part of my heart that loves Steven. I left him physically after that disturbing letter, but emotionally I was still moored to him. Moored, but not secure. I worked to free myself emotionally, and, just as I was achieving success in my endeavor, he showed back up with a phone call. By then I was no longer angry, did not even expect to hear from him (he’d sent a letter denouncing me completely), and so stupidly accepted his call. We argued, I apologized – YES, I apologized! Steven didn’t apologize for ANYTHING! We made another phone date. This time I was prepared to dump him. We argued again. We made another phone date for the following day, yesterday. He never called yesterday, and I haven’t heard from him since.

This time I am prepared for battle. I have put on my armor, and am engaged to regain my serenity. I have blocked his phone number; he will no longer be able to reach me. I have promised myself I will not read any more of his letters. One arrived today. It will remain unopened.

I am DONE with him.

In summary, I “met” Steven in March 2010. He was good for me in many ways. He helped me to recover from and move beyond my grief over Azim’s death. With his encouragement and support, I did lose 60 pounds, and I’m on the way to losing 60 more. I’m writing my memoir. I’ve reached out and made friends. I’m more forgiving of people who are in my life. In December 2010, I discovered he had lied about his crime. Because I had invested so much time and energy and money (stamps, paper, photos, magazine subscriptions, books, toner, etc.) in him, and because I deeply loved him, I was very forgiving of Steven’s errors and omissions of character. But the kinder I was the more he took advantage of my kindness, the more he was cruel and mean and withholding. I’ve come to believe that Steven is a sociopath. Of course, I’ll never know the truth about him. I only have the truth about what I know about what it was like to spend 14 months tethered emotionally to an inmate in the Nebraska State Penitentiary.