Yes, still uncovering stuff about Judah.
Bringing together scattered thoughts from elsenet:
The morning after Judah Sher raped me, he packed up his laptop, clothes, and insulin before he left the house. Yeah, he knew. I noticed that the entire stash of insulin was gone from the fridge that Friday afternoon, post assault-and-battery. 100% premeditated. He planned to do things that would preclude him returning to the house. (He wasn't in the kitchen the day of the assault & battery. Had to have taken the insulin the previous day.)
I've been trying to figure out why the escalation to assault and battery when he had to know that would be the end - he could have kept emotionally abusing me for god knows how long, but the minute it got physical, boom. What I've arrived at is that it was the police report of the rape that triggered it. Once he knew I'd reported, that he'd failed to play it off, that I'd realized what he'd done - he knew that the minute I said the words aloud to a cop, it was all over. I e-mailed him after I made the report. He came over the next morning, lured me to the smallest room in the house (because it didn't make sense for him to go there - he only had two things in that room, neither of which he ever used), and beat me up. He knew he'd lost my trust for good, and he knew I was going to end it.
So he decided to get a few punches in on the way out.
And then he was surprised when I called the cops. I think he thought he'd leave me in a puddle of fear and shame, triggered and alone. It's remarkable how well he copied a domestic violence scene I wrote in my novel-in-progress, actually. He studied. But I am not my novel's protagonist. So he did not get the desired result.
*blink* Oh yeah. Two weeks ago *wasn't* his first burst of violence.
What I never told most people: remember when our cat Victoria broke her leg a few years ago? It was because Judah threw her. He put her on his lap, she flexed her claws and hurt him, and he literally picked her up and threw her diagonally across the room. Her leg was shattered and required a metal frame and screws. She spent months in a crate. He paid for most of it because it was His Fault. But I remember that after, when I was shocked and upset and said "she's hurt!" and chased her down? His affect was flat. Unconcerned. "She's fine," he said. I ran upstairs to find her, and her leg was clearly broken - the way she'd landed when he threw her made that clear in itself. Her horrible cry... but it took a bit to even get him to help me fetch her, and once he saw her leg was broken, that's when his demeanor changed. Like a mask slipping on.
The Thursday before Tor died, Judah had locked her in his room overnight, theoretically accidentally. Boskone was that weekend. I was out all weekend for Boskone; Sunday night I noticed her lethargy and stuffiness. Treated her for asthma. He talked me out of taking her to the emergency vet. She was dead when we woke up. Sudden death after being locked in his room overnight, I've always suspected that she ate something in there.
I don't know if he neglected her symptoms on purpose. But I watched him throw her with great force across a room once. And not care after.
I know I said she fell. I know I never lie. My code is that I can lie only to protect others. I was protecting him. There have been a lot of omissions to protect him, but I believe this was the only outright lie.
The vet knew. And probably also knew that I was in a DV situation before I did. "She fell" sounds a lot like "I walked into a door" or "I fell down the stairs".
There are so many little things. Like he wouldn't let me go to dinner with mangosteen
alone when we were in a rough patch, he insisted on accompanying us. Like changing his mind on driving me to ConBust and to an October writer event last-minute, leaving me breaking professional commitments. So many things.