Domestic Violence

The ropes of death surrounded me;
the floods of destruction swept over me,
The grave wrapped its ropes around me;
death itself stared me in the face.
But in my distress I cried out to the LORD;
yes, I prayed to my God for help.
He heard me from his sanctuary;
my cry reached his ears.

Psalm 18:4-6

Somehow, she was released from his grasp and the painful attack; her instincts for survival grabbed hold of her instead. Although racked with pain, she frantically made her way toward the front door inside of their apartment, like a fawn escaping a leopard. Her back to her husband now, the fear cut into her like a cold knife. She was sick to her stomach, and felt crazed with desperation. Escaping him was always hard, and if he caught her, he was then only more enraged.
She found herself running in the night with the wet winter air cold and unwelcoming. Her bare feet hurt as they pounded against the freezing pavement. The sound of his angry slander coming from the house was a relief; it meant she had enough time to hide. Sometimes she wasn’t so lucky. Finding a crevice to slip into, she crammed herself behind an air conditioning unit attached to another apartment, by a nearby fence. The box, and some lingering night shadows’ disguised her small frame perfectly.
In moments, his dark frame appeared around the corner. She caught her breathe, not making a sound. His strides were long, and his boots sounded with an evil purpose. He gripped the heavy metal bar at his side. Her eyes took in his horrific weapon, and like a child scolded not to cry, she held back her tears. She began praying without making one audible word, please, don’t find me, please, don’t find me, she ran the words over and over in her brain, until she opened one of her closed eyes, and he wasn’t anywhere she looked.
Her heart beat, painful with every thud. She knew she was probably only waiting to be found by him, to be terrorized again, but she always knew their was a chance he might give up his game, and pass out with his last shot of Wild Turkey Liquor. After sitting for a moment, the fiery pain afflicting her body, set in even more. Her elbow was spotted with blood, but the large bruise already forming over the circumference of her elbow was excruciating. She was bruised in her side where she was pushed into the refrigerator, and the back of her head held a dull ache from being shoved into the wall by a strong hand.
She was angry at herself every time she let her husband do this to her, but at the time, she felt helpless. She didn’t know why she felt so paralyzed when she should be trying harder to stand up for herself and her rights as a wife, mother, and more importantly human being. She would be the first to admit she was ruled by fear, and she didn’t know why. She wanted to run, and felt as if she was given no legs. When he dangled her life before her, she was putty in his hands, just as he liked it, and for some strange reason, she had grown to accept that.