Violated

So, when I lived with the One Who Birthed Me*, I had placed my credit cards in a safe which locked, for two purposes. First, I didn’t want to use them. Credit cards are of the Devil, and can drag one down to Hell faster than, say, fornicating or a cup of coffee.

Secondly, as the word implies, I put them there for safe keeping. I didn’t want some no account crook using them to finance his drug cartell or cookie shop.

Well, it turns out that the no account crook is really the OHBM.

Now, I’ve always known she’s had problems, but on the other hand, people aren’t their problems; they’re more than that, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

I’ve actually given this woman a number of chances. And she always manages to do something worse each time.

This time she went on a spending spree with my credit card. She did manage to charge over $200 before the company figured out what was going on and froze my account.

You see, credit cards are the devil and I have stopped using them. And then all these charges appear in a matter of days, and they see that the pattern has been broken.

In my Consumer Econ class last semester, we discussed Identity Theft and how those who fall victim to such theft usually know the perpetrator, but I never really thought it would actually happen to me.

In the aftermath, I feel a combination of violation, betrayal, and sadly enough, a bit of I just should have known.

*Downgraded from Maternal Unit

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2 responses to “Violated

  1. Honey, at this point, call the cops and file charges. Hard to do, but needful if only to protect yourself and others — there are always others — from a reoccurrence. You’re a fine, strong woman, and you don’t have to put up with such crap.

  2. I agree with MLEH. File the charges.

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