It’s the story of a battered woman. So many in this world, taking abusive behavior everyday they wake up. Why you ask? Love, love is the answer that many battered women use as the reason why they stay with the man who beats them. They love him. But the question I ask is how can you love someone who lays there hands on you in attempt to harm you, possibly kill you? Love is defined as a deep, tender feeling of affection toward a person. I always wanted to know how they define love. Freight? Bruises? This is a story about a woman, who chose to be battered, instead of loved.

She was twenty-seven, strawberry blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and the sweetest personality. Her little sister always looked up to her, always wanting to be her. Wearing her clothes when her sister wasn’t home. She was her hero, straight A’s in school, boyfriends that always seemed to love her. That was until everything changed.

She lost her spark, her flame. When she started hanging around with the wrong people she wasn’t herself anymore. Then she met him, and her life changed forever.

We’ll leave his name unknown; we’ll refer to him as the man who took her sister. It started the day her sister moved away. They were so close, until then. Barely talking now, not knowing if her sister was alive from one day to another. It was because of him. She moved down south, met him and started a life. We all hoped that it would work out; it would be a happy ever after. She deserved it after all. But it didn’t turn out that way.

They got married rather quickly. But it was her decision. Everything was fine for about a month, and then the ‘honey moon’ ended. The beatings were mild in the beginning. A slap across the face, and he’d walk away to drink or smoke. Then he began shoving, pushing, pulling. Then the first time he assaulted her, the first cry for help came. He smashed her head against the wall. That was all they needed to hear. Help was on the way. When it arrived, she had made up with him, she couldn’t leave him. She loved him.

That was the beginning of the end. Everyday a new bruise would appear on her. He didn’t even seem to care that people noticed. Some men only bruise where it can be covered by clothing, but he was different. It was like he wanted everyone to see his handy work. Perhaps he felt more powerful by beating on her. Or perhaps he got enjoyment out of seeing the women he “loved” in pain. That was until he almost got caught.

She had a doctor’s appointment that day, to make sure she was healthy. He had been drinking already that morning, when she said she needed the car keys. She never saw his fist coming, never had time to react. He was to strong for her, square in the face. She thought that was it, and then he came back for more. Slapping her till she couldn’t feel her face anymore. As she fell to the ground she saw him wind his leg back, and prayed to god that she lived.

When she came to, he was gone. She was lying in her own blood, her left eye swollen shut, her lip cut up. Her head pounded from when it hit off the wall. It felt like her ribs were broken from when he kicked her. Cleaning herself up was even more painful. But she knew she had to do it. Caking makeup on her face she hoped it would cover the evidence. But no makeup could cover the pain of a battered woman.

As the doctor took in the face of the girl in front of him, his heart ached for her, and the millions of other women just like her.
“I can help you, I can take you to a shelter.” The doctor explained to her.

If her sister could answer for her now she would have. But instead the answer that came out was the wrong one.

“I’m fine doctor; I just fell this morning when I was getting out of the shower.”

Her moment to escape had passed. She gave up safety because she loved him. At the end of the day, he validated her when no one else would. So she went back to him, back to the beatings.



He killed her February 23. Her family now having to deal with the lose of a daughter, a niece, and a sister. Her face was unrecognizable. The police officers that had that arrived at the scene had said he had beaten her so severely, they couldn’t identify her. Only after her sister had seen the big sister necklace around her neck did she know her sister was gone. She was taken from them because she loved him. He had taken her sister because he wasn’t man enough to admit he had a problem.

Two consecutive life sentences for the man who took her sister. Justice for the legal system was served, but justice for a little girl who didn’t have her big sister anymore would never be served.


Her little sister grew up to be an advocate for battered women. Traveling the country speaking to women, trying to save them with the story of her sister. Then and only then would some justice be awarded to her sister and the sister who died for ‘love.’



Battered women all over the world deal with the beatings and the pain everyday. It needs to stop. We were born and raised free; we should never be a person’s property, something to beat on. Remember love yourself enough to walk away from abuse. You deserve it.