I never felt inclined to write about this topic because being vulnerable is extremely hard for me. I’m an innately private person, and to be completely honest there’s a lot of shame that comes with admitting to have gone through a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Society doesn’t understand why anyone would just stay, and I honestly don’t blame anyone for asking that question because up until I had gone through it, I would’ve had the exact same response.
Just Leave!
I have a lot of peace in writing this now because I know that in my heart it’s something that could help someone else. People that follow me on social media see a certain side of me, in a certain light; an idyllic image if you will. But it is never and has never been my intention to create an image of perfection for the world to see. I hope if you’re reading this and you can relate to this story, that you find comfort in knowing that there is so much more than what you see on our platforms. Girls that post half naked, scantily clad photos in lingerie, drinking cups of coffee in different parts of the world, and post insta stories that seemingly are always up in the air on a plane; are no less human than you are. Some of us have been through some real shit too. Okkkkkur.
Several years ago I found myself in a relationship with someone that turned out to be a complete monster. The first 4 months we were together he treated me like a princess. He was in the music industry and had hired me and another model. I had previously worked with a mutual photographer of his at a popular studio and that’s how I think he saw my photos to initially book me. {And just in case you’re wondering, I have never, and will never, say his name or who it is. I haven’t said it since the day that I left him, and that will never change.}
After the first time working together one of the photographers called me and said he wanted to work with me again. The idea of a romantic relationship with him never even crossed my mind. First off, I was in constant work mode, and just trying to make a name for myself, a relationship was the furthest thing from my mind. Not to mention I never mixed work with my personal life. We had taken pictures together when we were done filming with the cast/crew, and he casually told me he would send me some of the pictures. I wasn’t even thinking he was trying to be smooth, but that’s how he got my phone number and I never thought twice about it. I had to travel to Orlando for a modeling job not long after that, and he texted me asking me if I wanted to get lunch when I got back. I was in such a different head space, looking back it’s funny to me that I didn’t even realize how he felt about me, and how I thought he was just trying to be my friend. He wasn’t pushy, and the way he reached out to me was so casual and polite, I thought nothing of it. When I flew home, I had a shoot the next day and was completely exhausted. He invited me to go to the studio. As soon as I got there he ordered enough food to feed a literal village, just for me. There was a bunch of people there, and I remember everyone looking at us, watching us interact, and the way he was acting towards me. He was a very intimidating looking human being from afar, but I wasn’t phased by anyone. Of course I didn’t see the scary side of him that everyone around me had been privy to.
My older brother was in prison when I was growing up, so maybe that influenced how I saw other people. I never judged them for how they looked, I was never intimidated or scared of someone based on their appearance. His entire body is tattooed, head to toe; and yet he has the kindest heart; The kind that society would have to see to believe. When he got out and I visited him when I was 18, I was around all of his friends, so I saw people differently stemming from a young age. Not for what they did, not for their pasts; but just for who they were, in the moment. For who they were, on the inside. I saw beyond the surface of someones skin; I looked deep to find their hearts, to see how they moved and flowed from it.
Everyone knew he was trying to win me over; except for me. One day he had picked me up, I remember it like it was yesterday. I was wearing a sundress with no makeup on, my hair tied in a ponytail. He looked over at me while he was driving and with the biggest smile on his face, told me how beautiful I was. It was like I could feel this person falling for me, I was watching it unfold with my own eyes. And even though I was so many baby steps behind him, that’s where it all began.
The first time I ever spent the night at his house, was when one of my girlfriends that I had grown up with, came into town. He had invited us over to his friend’s barbecue, and I brought my friend Kayla with me. He left to run to the store really quick, and was texting me how happy he was that I came. We all went out that night, and I remember her looking at him saying, “You aren’t even Aubrey’s type, you’re my type.” She was laughing when she said it, but I knew she was serious. I know most people would have been bothered by that, especially their own ‘friend’ saying it, but I honestly didn’t care. She was my girl, and she was attracted to the guy I was seeing; but I didn’t give a shit. He was the kind of guy that if you happened to see at a bank; you knew one of two things were about to happen. He was either there to pull out an extreme amount of cash, or he was going to rob it. We were outside that night at a patio deck and it was chilly; I had my legs on his lap and he was rubbing them to try to keep me warm. She was right. He wasn’t my type, but he was growing on me. Her and I slept in his bed that night, and in the morning we brought her to the airport. From that day on, we were pretty much always together. He didn’t try to be intimate with me for weeks, and I think that was one of the reasons I saw him differently than everyone else did. To other people, he was a savage. They were scared of him, whatever he asked, they did. To me, he was like a big kid; a teddy bear around me. I remember the first time he told me he loved me; we had just woken up and were laying in bed. I was caught off guard, looked at him and just said, “No you don’t.” To say I was on the emotionally unavailable short bus, would be an understatement. But I was also extremely young; I was 22. Of course I had feelings for him, I just wasn’t where he was at. He was leading, and I let him.
Fastforward.
The first time I was ever scared of him was after we had gone out to a club. I remember we got home and I immediately just laid in bed while he went upstairs, I was tipsy and just wanted to pass out. Out of nowhere he walked into the room, got on top of me, and started choking me. I was begging him to stop, and he finally did and just passed out. I woke up the next morning and I felt like I had been in a complete fog. It didn’t feel real. This was the guy that told me all day long how beautiful I was, that brought me breakfast and coffee in bed, that told me how I had changed his life. This was the guy that was telling me almost daily he wanted a son with me, even though I would laugh and say it was never going to happen. {He was dead serious, he even already had a name picked out. He wanted to name him Savage.} This is the guy that would take me to go get my nails done, and sit and wait for me so he could spend time with me. He had a three story house when we first met, and I knew some of his friends had stayed over the night before. The next morning I asked his one of his friends if he would come upstairs to our room so I could talk to him. I told him what happened the night before. In the moment of saying it out loud I think I almost doubted my own memory of what had happened, it felt so surreal. His friend of course backed him up, saying that he was probably just playing around, and that he was in love with me, he would never try to hurt me.
We never spoke about it again.
I can’t remember the exact timeline of different events that occurred in my 10 month relationship with him, but I became a shell of a human being. Red flags have a way of showing up very vividly and vaguely, until they’re waving at you dead in your face; waiting for you to wake up. A few months into our relationship we went over to his friends house. His friend had recently gotten out of doing an eight year stint, but I mean, people change, right? We were standing next to each other in their kitchen, and his friend Chris said “He’s never choked you?” I looked at him like he was insane, and looked at my boyfriend and playfully shoved him, saying “absofuckinlutely not”. My boyfriend laughed, looked at me and just shook his head.
We got into an argument in the car one time driving home, and he slammed my head into the right side window of the car. I remember walking away during an argument as he was screaming at me in the living room, and he told me if I took another step he was going to kick me down the stairs.
One night we were out and I had just gotten the vibe that something was going to happen. Anytime he would drink he would slowly get really aggressive, and I just knew that I had to get out of there. There were girls all around him and I didn’t even care, I knew I just had to leave. I was praying the whole way home that he would just go to his house and pass out. I was so scared that he would show up at my place and break down the door, (because it had happened before) I was shaking. I remember sleeping in the bathtub at my apartment that night with a blanket and towels, thinking that if he did come, he wouldn’t think to look for me there. The image of that to this day feels like something from another life. But it’s my truth, my reality. And to be completely honest I’ve kept a lot of things out, for the sake of triggering anyone. Some of the things I went through are things I don’t want anyone to picture; because no matter how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown; how strong I am; there will alway be a part of any woman that’s dealt with abuse, that at one point or another, associates her experience with some level of shame.
The nature of all of our arguments were surrounded by jealousy. I had my own apartment while we were dating, and he hated it because he didn’t want me to have any independence or anywhere that I could go to that didn’t involve him. I had moved to Vegas, on my own, with a dream and a car full of my belongings. I was working as a promo model at the convention center, and one of the women I worked with had said that her and her husband had an apartment for rent. My second day being there, running on no sleep after going to audition after audition, (cocktail waitress auditions at all the pool clubs in Vegas are like a runway show. Nonstop, all day long, and you’re walking in front of a panel of people you’ve never seen before, in a bikini and heels;; most people would be nerve wracked lol), I met with her husband immediately after to show me the unit. and signed the lease then and there. I had found that little apartment; and I felt safe. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, it was on the border of Rainbow and Summerlin, but I didn’t care. Besides the inside being perfect for me, I was just fearless. I had certain goals, and I was going to reach them. Ever since I was young I’ve always taken pride in taking care of myself, having something that’s my own. And I had made that, small little apartment, my home.
One (of the many) times I tried breaking up with him, he showed up at my apartment, grabbed me and threw me onto the floor. Another time we had gone out and I left and went to my girlfriends house, knowing, once again, something bad was about to happen. I woke up the next morning with voicemails from inmate #12388753; He had gotten a DUI and called to let me know it was my fault. I experienced driving us home after a night out, and him being extremely aggressive; I knew in that moment, in my gut, that if I hadn’t left that night, something really bad would’ve happened to me.
When we first met I got a phone call from Playboy and they wanted to fly me out the next day for a shoot. Initially he was so proud and excited for me, he helped me fill out a bunch of paperwork online so I could pack. He knew how driven I was, and how much it meant to me, so when it came to modeling jobs he never tried to hold me back. At least not initially. He was telling all his friends his girl made it to Playboy, but as soon as I got back from the shoot he called me a slut for modeling for them.
Right before any abuse had happened, my best friends from Orlando came to stay with us. My girlfriend had started a sunglass company and wanted me to be the face of her line. Our other mutual close friend also happened to be a photographer, so it was the perfect scenario. Back in the day we were a trio, so we were so excited to get to reunite. We had been shooting all day, and obviously I was in full hair and makeup. I remember I could feel his vibe, I could tell he was jealous about me shooting with a guy, but he played it cool and was really accommodating to all my friends. Anytime I shoot I feel so happy and free, and eventually he couldn’t hide that he resented that I had an outlet that wasn’t related to him that brought me so much happiness. He ended up taking all of us out to dinner, not letting anyone pick up the tab but him, like always, and everyone spent the night. My friends left the next day having no idea, just like myself, what I was about to endure.
When we first started dating he asked me about a certain person that I had dated before him (yearsssss before him) and I never wanted to talk about it because I knew deep down he didn’t really want to hear the answer. One day he was in a good mood and just casually brought it up, asking if I had had sex with said-certain-guy. I said yes, we dated. A few days later he wanted me to come talk to him, so I walked in the room and sat down next to him. He looked at me and asked “Did you regret it?” I said, “Regret what??” “Dating that guy.”
In that moment I knew he wasn’t happy, but I was confused why he was bringing it up. He had had a million girls before me, multiple at a time, and none of it had ever bothered me.
One time we were driving and one of the girls he used to hook up with sent him a masturbation video. She knew he was in love with me because he would literally send my pictures to anyone that texted him. He was older than me, I was the first girl he had been with where monogamy was the only option. Coming from a man that had whatever he wanted; he was like a different person to me. He immediately showed it to me and I remember just looking at it and thinking, that’s not the greatest angle. Lol. But in her defense, she was beautiful.
I looked up at him and said……”Um… no?.” He reached down and grabbed me by my hair, and dragged me through the room, across the hall and into our bedroom. I was screaming and begging him to stop. He threw me up onto the bed, hit me in the stomach and kicked me in the side when he was standing over me. The craziest part about this is that he always had friends around. I know his guy friends were downstairs, and they had to have heard what was going on. All I can remember is yelling “Get the fuck away from me!” over and over again. That was the first time that it had ever been so severe. I scrambled to grab some outfits and my makeup case because I was late to film a show that day called “Hot Girls and Sports.” I walked to my car and he came out and was begging me not to leave him. I remember driving to set, hands on the steering wheel, just in a complete daze. I remember staring at the road thinking “Holy shit. I’m in an abusive relationship.” I was completely scared for my life. I threw my hair in a bun because I looked disheveled, and I had to go straight to set and have my smiling Aubrey Evans personality and game face on to work.
Right before the abuse started happening, one of my girlfriends had been reaching out to me all the time to help her through a toxic relationship she was in. She always told me how strong I was; I was the one person she could come to without feeling judged, and that she looked up to me for not ever taking shit from anyone. The fact that out of all people, I ended up in this kind of relationship, is what makes this story all the more visceral. And frankly, like something out of a horror movie.
That night when I got back from set, I was completely empty. I knew I had to leave him, yet I was terrified that he would catch me in the middle of packing my stuff. (I had been on my own since I was 16, and even though I had friends, and formed really great friendships with a couple of the agencies I worked with, there was no way I felt comfortable telling them what I was going through.) I was the model that they always relied on, I always showed up on time, and killed it on set. There was no part of me that was going to ask anyone for help, and open up about what was truly going on; it was my battle to face. I remember he went to the gym and texted me “Babe do you want a smoothie???”. I could barely even breathe, because I knew that that meant he was almost done working out, and he’d be coming home soon. If you’re reading this and you don’t understand how I didn’t just leave, then you’ve probably never been in a situation where you literally felt like you could have ended up dead.
Soon after that he had to go to New York to film a show. He was blowing my phone up, telling me he loved me and that he would never put his hands on me again; he wanted his girl back, he wanted to be a better man for me. (In order to be a better man you have to first, be an actual man, but I digress.) His friend showed up one day at my apartment while he was still in New York, with an envelope of money. (Ironically, the same friend that I had privately told, in the beginning, about being choked until I was almost unconscious.) I could just tell by the look on his face that he knew what I went through. He knew that I needed to leave, and he wanted me to use it to get a new apartment. I immediately found one that I really loved; (The man upstairs was watching out for me, and the entire universe. You can’t tell me otherwise.) It was impossible to get into the building unless you actually lived there, and had security guards and a guard gate; so obviously I was sold. I officially became a resident in Fort Knox.
Now, at first I hesitated in writing this last part because the fact that that wasn’t the official end is inconceivable, but this is a part of my journey and to pretend that I’ve never had weak moments would make me inhuman. Here we go. He got back from his trip and came over to my apartment. He asked me what was wrong, and I just said I can’t do this. I could never forgive you. He looked at me and said, “I need you to call your parents and tell them that I didn’t do to you what you said I did. I never kicked you, I never hit you Aubrey. It wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be. You were being dramatic.” (The term for this is ‘gas lighting’. It’s a tactic that abusive people use to make you doubt your own reality. Also severe narcissism, but I don’t even think that term does it justice.) All of a sudden my life flashed before my eyes. He literally was trying to manipulate me in believing that none of the abuse had happened. I also realized that by him saying that, by him caring what my parents thought of him, (who were barely in my life to begin with), meant that he thought that me getting that apartment was going to be a new beginning for US.
That envelope of money came from him.
In that moment I felt all of my inner strength come to me, and I knew in my soul that that day I was going to get my life back. I was no longer scared of him. I just started freaking out, telling him to get the F out of my apartment. I had no fear. I was no longer afraid of what he could do to me, because I knew that I had it within myself to make it through anything life had thrown my way. I had already experienced hell, there was nothing in that moment that could have happened that would have swayed my opinion; The fog was lifting, and I was going to take control of my life, even if it cost me it.
He was furious, but I could tell that he knew I was really done. I can’t remember anything he said but he broke a hole through my bedroom door on the way out.
And that was it.
That was the day that changed my life forever. I looked at someone in the eye that had physically and emotionally abused me, and I freed myself. I immediately changed my phone number, and never looked back.
A month or so later I was at my girlfriends condo studying lines for a script and she said we should go out to eat, she wanted to get me out of the house. I didn’t tell her what I went through with him but I knew she sensed it had been something bad. Some people, especially those that love you, can feel things without words even being spoken. We went to a local diner, and when I was almost finished eating, I felt the wind slowly get knocked out of my chest. He must have been eating there too, and walked right by and saw me. I froze, I couldn’t even speak. I told her I wanted to leave, and she already knew what time it was. When I got home I remember looking at his twitter. He was so hot headed, I knew if he wanted to come after me he would’ve written something on there impulsively. (because every time I would break up with him he would rage tweet me.) I just had to check. (I had him blocked on everything else, and was still getting hundreds of emails) I was right. Only it wasn’t anything threatening; but it WAS him that I saw. He was going on a rampage about how he saw me and his heart was in his stomach. Screenshots don’t lie; and the internet doesn’t age well. When I was going through all of that, I never told my friends because I didn’t want them to carry the weight of what I was dealing with. I’m the type of person that will jump on a plane in a heartbeat to help my friends, and I didn’t want anyone that cared about me to have to bear the weight of feeling helpless for my situation. Anyone could just tell me “Just leave him.” But, you don’t understand. A monster doesn’t just disappear, it’s not that easy.
Some people go through life struggles and they allow themselves to become a victim because of their circumstances. I look at life in the complete opposite way. I’ve been through literal hell, but you know what? From the bottom of my heart, I’m thankful for it. Imagine life as a two way street. Imagine you’re standing on the road, and there’s two paths you can take. The path on the left is smooth, paved, and newly painted. The path on the right is bumpy, uneven and full of potholes. I always was someone that chose the unbeaten path. I never wanted to follow a road that everyone else was on, I wanted to pave my own way. Did I walk on that path knowing I was going to end up in an abusive relationship? No. I was always the girl that would be like “BYE!” the second a guy did something stupid. (And I still am that girl lol) But I truly believe that the things that are put in front of us serve a purpose.
There’s a saying. “Nothing goes away until it teaches us what we need to know.” I learned so much about myself from that situation, I learned that I can make it out of anything from my own personal strength. I hesitated for so long to actually publish this specific blog, because there was a part of me that felt like people might see me as being weak for having gone through something like that. It took a long time to realize that confronting an image of weakness or shame is the last step in freeing yourself from any darkness you’ve gone through; and I know I am the woman that I am, not because of what I went through, but how I walked through the fire.
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