There Goes My Social Life by Stacey Dash

Author:Stacey Dash
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781621574316
Publisher: Regnery Publishing
Published: 2016-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

After Moving wrapped, I finally realized that Axel was not going to stop beating me. I needed to get out of there as soon as possible but how could I put bread on the table if I left him? With a laser-like focus, I started trying to get more work so I could afford to live on my own.

In 1988, I was cast for a regular role on a show called TV 101, about a divorced photojournalist who goes back to his high school to produce a television news program with the journalism class. I played one of his students (Monique), as did Matt LeBlanc—later famous for his role as Joey on Friends.

The role was my first in a television series, and the regular paycheck got me one step closer to leaving Axel. I’d tried before and just hadn’t been able to do it, but this time would be different. So I made plans. And I waited. The next time he went out of town, I secretly went and got my own apartment. He’d be furious if he knew what I was up to, so I patiently waited for the right moment, kept everything under wraps, and slipped out while he was gone.

I hadn’t planned on someone telling him. But one night when I pulled up in front of my building—a location I thought was secret—he was standing at the entrance.

“I thought you were out of town!” I said.

“I thought we lived together,” he said.

He ran toward me, grabbed me, and forced me into his car. When we got to his house, he tossed me into the bedroom.

“That’s the last time you try to leave me,” he snarled as he threw me on the bed. He opened the chest of drawers, and I scanned the room. It was no use. I knew the place intimately. It was not an apartment, it was a duplex. There was one other occupant of the building, but I could tell from the driveway that the neighbor wasn’t home. There was no way out except the door, and no one could hear me no matter what I did.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He had socks in his hands—just normal, everyday athletic socks—and he wrapped them around my wrists. He tightened them, and I inhaled deeply. “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked as he lifted my arms, shoved me to the top of the bed, and tied my wrists behind my head to the bedpost. I pulled down on my arms, which only tightened the socks around me.

“You can’t keep me here!” I screamed.

“You’re free to leave,” he laughed. “If you can.”

I strained against the bed post and felt the full hopelessness of my situation. Axel stood over me, pulled back his fist, and punched me in the stomach. I instinctively tried to block it, but there was no use. There was no slack in the socks, none at all. My wrists stayed tied to the bed, and his fist took my breath right out of me.

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