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“You’re crazy!” I cried. “You need help!”

Backing into the kitchen, I saw the paring knife on the counter. I grabbed it and started swinging. Darren’s eyes said everything. I knew that at that moment he could kill me. “Leave me alone!” I cried. Darren lunged at me. We scuffled for a few seconds. I stuck the knife in his forearm and watched as blood trickled onto the floor. I tried to run away, but he grabbed me from behind, spun me around, and drove his fist into my face. I went down, and my head smacked the tile floor. Warm blood seeped from a gash in my scalp. I imagined gooey yoke oozing from a cracked egg.

I lay there for a moment, trying to focus, wondering how badly my head was bleeding, questioning whether I would even be able to save myself. If I could keep from losing consciousness, I still had a chance. My kids, I thought. I have to win this battle for my kids. My nephew appeared and tried to pick me up, but I screamed out in pain. I could barely move my mouth. It hurt to try to talk. I heard Darren rummaging through my closest, pulling all of my clothes off the hangers. I lay very still as he paced back and forth between our bedroom and the kitchen. Had he lost his mind?

“You cut me!” he screamed. “You f@!ked up. You’re going to jail and I’m going to get the kids. Now get your sorry ass up.”

At that moment, lying on that cold tile floor, with my head pounding and my vision blurred, I saw my marriage with absolute clarity, and I knew it was over. I’m not sure why I was so certain this time. Maybe Darren had finally beaten the pretense out of me. My marriage had survived for ten years on false hope and make-believe. Now there was nothing left but the bare and brutal truth. I was an abused woman and I wasn’t going to take it anymore. Any feelings I still had for Darren were finally dead. Now if only God would let me live. That’s when the room went black.

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