Lucifer’s Daughter was originally going to be a single post, but as I kept writing more, the details beyond the basics seemed to be relevant. I’ve seen quick accounts of people that have gone through similar situations but they only answer the “how”. I want to take a look at the “why” factor. Why do these men (myself included) allow these women into their lives? What weakness makes a man try to save an irredeemably broken woman?
I will use myself as an example, a cautionary tale for any of you out there that still hold out hope. There are women out there who will use your dreams of love to crush you. Not just in the obvious financial sense. They will work their way into your heart, slowly bypassing your defenses. They will adore you, build you up and you will make them the center of your universe. Once you are theirs, once they’ve touched every nook and cranny of your inner self, they will use their knowledge to throw every vile hurtful thing they can back at you. Every insecurity, every fear of failure, every sensitivity you have openly told her will be used to break you. In the end, when she’s gone, you won’t know lies from truth. Your sense of self shattered, you must stumble back out into the world and attempt to put yourself back together. The worst part of it though, is that you come to realize why she did it. The reason she destroyed you is because it made her happy.

The first taste of what was to come occurred about a month after my grandfather’s birthday. Somehow, word had gotten to Jenny that my father did not approve of our relationship. I had worked a double shift that day and I was looking forward to a chill night with my amazing girl.
The first thing I noticed upon walking in was the lamp that usually sat on the table next to the door was now smashed against the wall. I immediately feared an intruder and called out for Jenny. As I turned the corner I could hear uncontrollable sobbing coming from behind the bathroom door. I frantically tried the door to find it locked. I pounded on the door, desperately calling for her to let me in. The sobbing just continued, I knew it was her and my mind filled with every imaginable situation that could have caused her such distress. Had there been a home invasion? Was she hurt? I became more and more panicked with each passing moment. I had to find out what had caused my angel such heartbreak. The bathroom door was cheap and flimsy, a couple of hard shoulders broke the lock from the doorframe. Jenny was standing naked in the shower with a washcloth held on her left forearm. There was blood, enough blood to be concerning, dripping from her arm. Her body was convulsing under what were the most anguished sobs I have ever heard. The raw emotion, the guttural pain in her voice shocked me to my very core. The only comparison I can think of to do it justice would be the wail of a mother over the death of her child. What really struck me were her eyes. They were the eyes of someone possessed. I was literally looking into the eyes of a stranger. The only way I can describe it is that in that moment she had become the physical incarnation of despair. The raw emotion terrified me, I had never had such levels of emotion before nor experienced it in others. Since my mind couldn’t wrap itself around her mental anguish, I focused on the easier to deal with problems. I got her bandaged up as best I could. The cut on her forearm was deep. This had not been a little nick, she wanted to do real damage to herself. I managed to get some clothes on her and get her into bed. I held her in my arms and whispered anything I could think of to comfort her. The sobs withered and eventually died out. She became Jenny again.
We talked all night with her in my arms, she told me what happened. She wanted desperately to be welcomed by my family. We are a large, tightknit group that loves each other and works together. Jenny never knew her father, the only family she had ever know was her mom and aunt. Both the mom and the aunt were eccentric shut-ins. She had never had family gatherings, had never experienced the feeling of being surrounded by people who cared for her. In my family she thought she had found that missing piece in her life. To find out one of them didn’t accept her (the de facto Patriarch no less) had crushed her hope of finding the acceptance she had always wanted. I listened to her pour heart out to me and my fear and confusion at the situation turned to sympathy. Of course she was devastated, she had been alone all her life and been given a taste of what a real family was like. My father’s rejection of her confirmed that she was not worthy of a family to love her. Her despair was fueled by her isolation and the fear that it she deserved to be alone. In those hours laying there I felt an overpowering surge of love for this woman. My little angel was more broken than I had thought. She needed a protector and nurturer. I vowed that I would give her all of the love and validation that she never got from her family. I would be her family, her rock that stood firm and true. This beautiful creature had given me so much happiness and I would make her whole.