The Devil I Loved: Part 4 - Darkness Befalls Us

In this deeply emotional episode of Travel Time Stories with Shannon, I share the final chapter of my story with David - a story of love that turned dark, of abuse that nearly cost me everything, and of the moment light broke through the shadows.

What began as young love became a journey through fear, control, and survival. This is the story of how I lost myself, found my strength, and learned that even in the darkest moments, there is always a way back to the light.

If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse, please reach out for help - you are not alone. Visit thehotline.org or call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) for confidential support.

Tune in for honesty, healing, and hope - and remember, even through pain, we can find purpose.

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Transcript

Welcome to Travel Time Stories with Shannon. I'm Shannon, your host from Texas, and I wanna thank you for being here with me today. If you're new here, this is the podcast where I share real stories, the good, the messy, and everything in between, real journeys and real healing. Some weeks I'll bring you along on my travel adventures, the shenanigans and lessons I've learned along the way.

And other weeks I'll dive into my personal life story, adoption, trauma, healing, and transformation. Most weeks I share a little of both because for me, travel and life are deeply connected. Both shape us, both change us, and both leave us with memories that last a lifetime. This week I'll finish my story of my life with David.

Darkness befalls us so grab your favorite beverage and let's get into it.  For a while, I convinced myself that our love was enough to shield me from the world. David was my protector, my anchor, my everything. But love isn't always light. Sometimes it hides shadows in its corners, and sometimes those shadows creep in so slowly you don't even notice until you're standing in the dark.

The same man who made me feel safe could also make me feel small. The same arms that held me could just as easily push me away, and though I didn't see it then the cracks were already widening, the foundation, already trembling. Looking back now, I know that what followed wasn't just a relationship, it was a storm, beautiful in its power.

Destructive in its force and impossible to escape once you're inside it. Daddy had been home for a while and getting stronger each day. It was great having him and mama back home and life seemed to be getting back to a normal routine. My relationship with David was going great and I celebrated my 17th birthday as it goes in my life when things seem good.

A bomb is just around the corner. It began with a secret I carried inside me a late period a test, and two pink lines that changed everything. My mind began to race. As to how this happened since I was on birth control and as a teenager, you don't realize birth control isn't foolproof. I wept uncontrollably as I stared at the test.

Fear gripped my body with an unimaginable force, and I experienced my first panic attack. It felt just as bad as a heart attack. How was I going to tell David? What was he gonna say? What were mama and daddy going to say and do? How was I gonna be a mom? The questions just kept swirling in my brain. Then suddenly everything went black as I passed out on my bedroom floor.

When I came to, my face was swollen and puffy from all the crying I knew. I had to tell David first before mom and dad. That weekend I drove down to Pickwick with a heavy heart. When David answered the door, I fell into his arms. His face reflected his concern, but he laughingly said, Hey, I missed you too, babe.

I told him that we needed to have a serious talk, and he brought me inside and we sat down on the sofa in his grandmother's living room. Thankfully, his grandparents were out in the garden, so we were able to talk privately. When I told David I was pregnant, his reaction was one of shock first, then anger.

He accused me of lying about being on birth control. I was so hurt by his reaction and accusations that at first I stayed silent. Then my anger took over and I tore into him with my words. I let him know that I had been faithfully taking my birth control pills because I didn't wanna be pregnant, but here we were, and then I started crying.

Once I got calmed down, David apologized. We made an appointment with my OBGYN to get everything confirmed before we told my parents. At the appointment we found out that due to me being on antibiotics for a wisdom tooth that I had removed was probably the reason why I got pregnant. 'cause apparently antibiotics suppresses the birth control now that things were confirmed and David was on board, it was time to break the news to my parents.

When I told my mom, her words shattered the fragile ground that I was standing on. You can have an abortion or you can move out. I had expected anger and disappointment, but never that I would have to move out. My mom said I had disgraced the family and that she would not have me living there pregnant, nor was she going to raise another baby.

At first, I couldn't comprehend what she was saying then I thought it must be a joke. But once I realized she was serious, I felt alone, abandoned and afraid. Daddy walked in from outside and wanted to know what was going on. So mama told him that I was pregnant and she had given me the choice to have an abortion or get out of her house.

Daddy's face went through a myriad of emotions, shock, disappointment, hurt, anger, and then empathy. Full of love. He took me in his arms and held me close as he told mama I didn't have to leave. It was his house too, and he was saying I could stay.

I had never in all of my 17 years heard mama and daddy argue. Obviously I'm not naive enough to think they never did, but if and when they did, it was always behind closed doors and never in front of us kids. So seeing this was just another blow to me and made me feel worse than I already did. Mama and Daddy's argument escalated and finally Mama told him that we could both leave and she would file for a divorce.

I immediately began panicking. I couldn't allow my mistake to rip my parents apart, especially when daddy was still recovering from his illness. I mustered all the strength I could stood up straight with my head, high and chest out, and told them to stop arguing that I'd made my decision and I would not allow this to tear them apart.

And I was not willing to have an abortion. I chose to move out. Mama made it clear that I would leave without my car. So I packed up clothes, my school stuff, some toiletries, and off I went to David's. It was the only option I had since I couldn't afford a place of my own, even with my job, it wasn't enough for rent, utilities, and food.

David's mother opened her door to us, letting us live with her and her husband. It was nice to feel wanted and accepted by them after the rejection I had felt from Mama David's stepdad allowed me to borrow his car to get to and from school because living in Shiloh was a long drive and none of my friends lived close by so that I could catch a ride.

I was thankful that I wasn't going to have to leave school. I wanted to graduate, and I had always planned to go to college. But not sure how that part would work out. Now, my days were filled with morning sickness, school homework, household chores, most nights I was expected to cook for everyone, plus cleaning and laundry.

I didn't mind since they were being so kind and providing a car and a place for us to live at Christmas. David slipped a ring on my finger, promising me a forever that I desperately wanted to believe in. By this point, I was already cut off from my family, my friends, and the world. I had once known. I had not spoken to anyone in my family.

I called my sister Jill to tell her about the engagement. She tried to convince me to come back home, that we would figure it out with mama, and that marrying David would be a mistake. I should have listened, but instead I told her he was my family now and hung up

one afternoon. David picked me up from school. A harmless conversation that I was having with a friend ignited something violent in him. Jealousy flared his hand struck, slapping me across the face for the first time I saw a part of him I had never met before. A teacher saw everything and threatened to call the police, but fear.

Fear of losing him. Fear of what might happen made me deny everything. At this point, I had only David, so I couldn't lose him too. I made excuses to myself. He didn't mean to hurt me. Jealousy had gotten to me before. too, it was a misunderstanding. You know what I mean? I'm sure if you've been in a relationship like this, you two have made these same excuses.

David immediately apologized and swore it would never happen again. I believed him. I had no reason not to since he had never been violent before. Inside I was riddled with embarrassment, shame, guilt, hurt, fear and confusion.

A few weeks later, I dropped out of school. My senior year disappeared just like that, and with it, the last tether to the life I might have had, I made this decision thinking it would save our relationship and prevent any further abuse. Instead, it only hurt me by isolating me further and keeping me from finishing my degree so I could hope for a better life.

With school gone, David's control grew stronger. He became the center of my world, the only voice I heard, the only opinion that mattered. And slowly he began to shape me into something I hardly recognized. Drinking crept in drugs followed, and with them a new level of darkness was surrounding David. I was not allowed to leave the house alone.

I could only go out with him or his mother. I was not allowed to have any friends over to the house. The only people I saw now were his close friends. Any phone calls I made were monitored to ensure I never said anything wrong to the outside world. I smiled and pretended everything was wonderful. Inside I was broken, trapped, and felt there was no way to escape.

And if I did escape, where would I go? I was convinced no one wanted me. I was trash used goods. He had slowly broken me and I had forgotten who I was and how much I was worth, and that there were people out there who loved me. Three months into the pregnancy, another fight turned violent. He threw me against a wall.

I collapsed in pain, holding my belly, looking down to see blood running down my leg. I begged David for help and he called his mother. They put me in the backseat of the car, wrapped me in a blanket so I wouldn't get blood on the seat. They drove me to the ER and once inside the nurses got me cleaned up and told me it didn't look good.

David and his mom said they couldn't stay because they needed to get home and rest for work tomorrow, so they left me alone in the er. The nurse asked if there was anyone she could call for me, and I told her yes, my friend Sarah. Sarah came straight to the hospital and stayed by my side, and that night I lost the baby.

They had to perform a d and c and before taking me in for the surgery, Sarah told me my parents wanted to come, but were waiting for my permission. I told her I wanted daddy there, but not mama. Daddy made it just in time to hold my hand and tell me he loved me before they wheeled me into surgery. The last face I saw before being put under anesthesia was my daddy with tears streaming down his face and love radiating off him in waves.

When I awoke his face was the first I saw again, sitting by my bedside and holding onto my hand. Next to him sat Sarah. My heart swelled with love for daddy, but it wasn't enough to keep me from going back to David. Daddy begged me to come home saying Mama was sorry for the things she had said and for making me choose, but the hurt was too deep.

The hurt I felt from Mama was more than the physical and emotional hurt. David put me through. So I chose to go back to him. Sarah drove me back to David's parents' house, and I watched Daddy crying as we pulled away. This broke my heart, but I was so broken that at the time, I felt numb to it. When I got back to David's, he acted as though nothing had happened.

No mention of the baby. The hospital, the surgery, nothing. He didn't care that the doctor said I wasn't supposed to have sex for six weeks. He forced himself on me anyway, and all I could do was lay there and let it happen. Just bite my tongue over the pain and clean up the bleeding afterwards and cry silently because if I did it audibly, I risk getting hurt worse.

The grief was a tidal wave, but before I could come up for air, I was pregnant again. David's darkness grew bolder. He made it clear that he owned me and my body and was allowed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He demanded, unspeakable things, forcing me into situations with others. That left me broken.

Even though I was pregnant, according to him, this made it better because then I couldn't get pregnant by anyone else, and he allowed others to use me for their pleasure. My body was no longer mine. Neither was my soul. He completely stripped me of everything. It was then that I learned the truth. David wasn't just a man with demons.

He was a man who worshiped them, a follower of Satan, the rituals, the words he spoke, the way he seemed to take pride in the destruction he caused. For the first time, I felt a fear, not just for my body, but for my baby, and for my soul. I turned to the church desperate for help, for cleansing, for salvation.

My pastor told me that he felt David was possessed by a demon. He could feel the presence and advise me that I needed to get away. He said he couldn't help David unless he asked for it, and David laughed at him stating he didn't need help, and still I returned to him.

It ended the way storms always do with a crack of lightning, with the moment where the world split open. That night, David's rage reached its peak, his hands around my throat. His fury blinding him. I knew this was the end. I felt the edges of death creeping in that evening. Something had felt off from the start.

The energy in the room was heavy, and as things escalated, David was no longer himself. His voice changed. His eyes changed. It was as though something darker had stepped in and the whites of his eyes turned red. He told me David was gone and I was now with Satan. In that moment, I realized I wasn't just battling a person, I was battling something supernatural.

As his hands were around my throat, I could feel myself slipping away. But then something incredible happened. I heard my mom's voice. She wasn't physically there. She was asleep at home. But in her dream, she connected with me. I felt her hands slip into mine. She told me to fight. She told me to call on the light, and I did.

In my mind, I began reciting Psalm 23. Yay. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil with each word. His grip began to loosen. When I could finally speak, I began to sing Amazing grace. And then something opened the veil between this world and the next pulled back. I saw Light Angels, the hand of God reaching through the darkness.

The moment I lifted my voice, I felt the presence of angels surrounding me. They pulled me free while holding him back. I felt my mother's spirit connect with me in her dream, and in that instant, the grip of evil was broken. I survived, but I would never be the same again. That was the night I learned the true power of the light.

My mother in her dream had reached me exactly when I needed her most. And God through the angels reminded me that no matter how dark it gets, I am never truly alone. Thank you for joining me today on Travel Time Stories with Shannon. This episode concluded my story with David, the abuse I endured and survived.

I am one of the lucky ones who can say I escaped. Not everyone is so lucky. There are far too many who die at the hands of their abusers. As survivors, we need to support each other, tell our stories so we can help and encourage others who may be in similar situations and thinking as we did that there is no escape.

It can be done. There are resources and people to help those friends or family that you thought wouldn't be there are just waiting for you. You can contact the hotline.org or call 1-800-799-SAFE. That's 1 807 9 9 7 2 3 3 or text the word start, S-T-A-R-T to 8 8 7 8 8. Or if you're in immediate danger, call 9 1 1.

If you are a survivor yourself, I would love to hear your story, so please reach out and share. If you're looking for connection, encouragement, and a reminder that no matter what you've gone through, you can keep moving forward, then you're in the right place. I hope you'll subscribe. Leave a review. Tune in each week and join me on this journey.

If you know someone who might connect with these stories, please share this podcast with them too. Together we're creating not just travel memories, but life memories, and I'm so glad you're here with me. I'd love to hear from you, or if you'd like to be a guest on the show, leave a comment or email me at lamkintravel@gmail.com.

That's L-A-M-K-I-N-T-R-A-V-E-L@gmail.com. And remember, keep making memories for life. Until next time, I'm Shannon and thanks for tuning in.