Entrapped...Body, Mind and Soul

© 2009 Cortney Lynn. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 5/6/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4389-6673-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-6674-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-4837-4 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

To the Reader

Entrapped: Body, Mind and Soul

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Conclusion

Author Biography

To the Reader

Tragic as it may sound, this story is absolutely true, but all names used and most place names are totally fictitious, and any resemblance to living persons anywhere is strictly accidental. Not coincidental is the level of spousal abuse depicted here in this account of several lives gone wrong!

Entrapped:

Body, Mind and Soul

Introduction

I am about to endeavor writing a manuscript that shares a segment of my life. I will address the subject of spouse abuse, a subject many people sweep under the carpet and prefer not to believe exists. Then there are those like me who are unaware and uneducated regarding this lifestyle. I am under the impression most people also correlate the term to ‘physical abuse’. However, it takes on many faces, including emotional, mental, sexual, financial and the physical aspect. The aspects of this destructive lifestyle can mean devastation for the victim.

Believe me, I have started this journal many times in the past few years and then stopped, convincing myself that my own personal experiences are far too revealing and overwhelming to share. Possibly no one will ever read this and then again maybe hundreds will. I am obligated and committed to go forward with this project for numerous reasons, as follows:

After a complete reading of my story, I think you will understand the need I have to ventilate my feelings and put things into perspective again. This will be a tool to identify that something very negative happened to me. I must accept it, face it, put it behind me and carry on with life.

As an explanation to my family, who wondered why I no longer would participate in family gatherings, meetings or holiday events, I hope that in no way did you take it personally that I did not accept your invitations. I wanted to join in, and my heart and spirit were there; I just could not be present bodily. As you will see, it was far easier to stay at home than to cope with the consequences I would suffer later. You must understand that, as my family, you gave me strength, support and insight, therefore making you the very ones my spouse drove the wedge between first. I could not ever have expected you to guess that I was being held captive in my own house.

I also speak to all of my friends who questioned what had become of my happy-go-lucky, free-spirited, independent attitude, and who noticed quickly that I had become an introvert, rather than my usual extroverted self. For all the shopping sprees and Coca Cola parties I missed, it was not you I did not want to be with, nor do I blame you for stopping the invitations to me, as I became a bitter and depressed person who essentially stayed at home.

And last, but certainly not least, I address this to ANYONE who has fallen victim to a similar situation of abuse. During my painful two-year marriage, I remember searching for books and magazine articles frantically attempting to relate to someone who I felt knew the anguish I knew. Spouse abuse is not a pretty picture: therefore, people do not talk about it openly. If only one person can take my story and use it as a stepping stone towards making the decision to leave an abusive partner, then it’s worth reliving these moments for you or if I can just simply help someone get through their ordeal, it is worth it.

This can happen to anyone. I, at one time, thought of myself as one of the strongest-minded, most determined women in the world, yet through the abusive process, I was shattered and reduced to the lowest, most insecure life imaginable. No one can make your decisions for you, but I highly encourage you to open up to someone. Release some of your tensions and witness first hand that people really do care about you. It is not intended for us to stay in a situation where our safety is threatened—almost daily in my case. As you will see, as time goes on, things get progressively worse. Do not live on false hope, as I did, convincing myself that this individual would return to acceptable behavior. I realize that in some cases, with extensive therapy and counseling, it may be possible, but do not rely solely upon your spouse’s word that they will change. In my case, my spouse did not offer to change, as he always thought he was right.

Bear in mind that I will recount to you some very significant incidents, but realize that the cold, cruel, degrading and demeaning comments were made to me seven days a week for two years straight, ranging anywhere from ten to fifty times per day. I cannot obviously insert those statements as they were actually made throughout that time-frame, but I think, towards the end of the story, you will see the impact it had on me.

I will tell this story as tactfully as I know how, having to leave out several incidents that I am unable to put into words. If anything is stated in a way that offends you, I did not intend it to, however, I also refuse to sugar-coat this situation and make it sound better than it was.

Since I refer to the word ‘psychopath’ occasionally, I would like to give you the definition as stated in The Encyclopedia and Dictionary of Medicine and Nursing, by Miller and Keane: ‘It is a personality disorder, characterized by a conspicuous disregard for the rights or needs of others. Shows lack of emotional maturity, an unwillingness to take responsibility and emotional instability. He expresses his conflicts in anti-social acts so that society suffers, rather than the psychopath himself. The chief characteristic is an apparent lack of conscience. He may suffer from alcoholism, drug addiction and sexual deviations. A psychopathic personality affects the entire structure of the character, so that this person feels that everyone else is out of step. If he is a criminal, he may honestly believe that anyone who is not a criminal is merely stupid. They seem to be unable to learn from experience. A sexual psychopath is one whose sexual behavior is manifestly anti-social and criminal. There is rarely help for these individuals because it requires the willingness to admit that something is wrong with him. This is an admission that psychopathic personalities are rarely willing or able to make.’

It was not until after my marriage ended to Devon that the full impact of Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome surfaced. I had fallen victim to a brain-washing scam that could only have been masterminded by a psychopath. I was blinded to the fact I was married to a psychopathic, sadistic rapist involved with Satan, from which he derived his power. Only by re-living mentally and reviewing this lifestyle with psychologists, psychiatrists and lawyers was the severity of my life-threatening situation revealed to me.

The events I am about to share with you are deeply personal and very painful, but I feel compelled to share my story anyway. I feel you also should understand what a sadistic rapist is. Through these past several years of my research on what has happened to me, I have had to admit that, only by the grace of God am I alive to even share this story. In the sadistic rape, aggression itself is erotified. The offender derives satisfaction in the abuse of his victim. Sexuality and aggression become fused into a single psychological experience called sadism. The assault appears ritualistic, and usually involves bondage and torture. Sexual areas of the victim’s body, breasts, genitals and buttocks become the focus of injury. The rape experience for this type of offender is one of intense and mounting excitement. He finds pleasure in the victim’s torment, anguish, distress and suffering. His assault is deliberate, calculated and premeditated. The victim is stalked, captured, abused and, in extreme cases, murdered and mutilated. The nature of the assault may not always involve the offender’s genitals. The victim may be raped with an instrument or foreign object such as a bottle or spoon. In some cases penetration may take place after the victim is dead. Such assaults are repetitive and interspersed with less traumatic offenses, as well as consenting sexual relations.¹

Approximately five percent of all rapes fall into this category. Who would have thought my life’s destination would render me a victim to this?

Before I begin the text of my book, I want to answer the question most asked of abused individuals. I am only speaking for myself, as each person who suffers has their own reasons. I felt driven to stay in this extremely horrid world because:

1. I had been married for eleven years to my children’s father, recently divorced, and I could not embarrass myself with another failure.

2. I came from a very conservative Southern Baptist family who did not believe in divorce, therefore, I did not want to cause them any more shame.

3. I am a very motivated woman who has never failed at anything I tried hard at, and I could not accept defeat.

4. I believed that God must have placed us together so that I could help this (sick) man. After all, I was a Christian, a registered nurse and a mother.

And last, but certainly not least....

5. As I was introduced to the perverted, deviant lifestyle, step by step, and a deeper level to deeper level, I lost touch with what was real and what was not.

6. Finally, I could not leave because my life was threatened.

Chapter One

Chaining of a Soul

The day had started out just like all busy work days in the life of a working mom. I was very tired when I picked up my two daughters from the babysitter’s that evening, so we decided to stop for supper at a fast-food taco restaurant. After eating, we were enroute to our apartment when I switched plans and suddenly changed driving lanes to pull into the grocery store. I remember clearly seeing a car following me that did just as I did. As a matter of fact, it now registers in my mind that it was the same blue Mustang I had seen many times lately. However, the thought was dismissed as mere chance. I proceeded with my shopping and was approached by a very nice-looking man, sharply dressed in a three-piece suit, French-cuffed shirt with elegant cuff links, and large diamonds on each hand. I remember thinking how awful I looked in a soiled nursing uniform. He had dark, almost black hair, a thick well-groomed mustache and a dark smooth complexion. He walked over to me and asked if he knew me from