We were in an arguement, our tempers flared. I walked away, he followed. I tried to shield my kids. He kept shouting. I kept shouting. I walked away again, he followed again. I tried to leave the house, he grabbed my arm, I pulled away. I kept getting ready to go to work, he kept stopping me so we could talk. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted to go to work, to get air, to get out.
He threatened me with hurting himself if I left him, of trashing the house, of making me miserable, but I wasn't listening. I wasnt listening to his way of manipulating me, I wasnt listening to him. I wasnt leaving him, just the building. I just needed to leave the building, needed to get to work. I passed him again, trying to get ready, but he was ready.
He grabbed me by my throat. He pushed me backward. I couldn't get up, I only reached with my arm. I scratched his face, he let me go. I froze. My children didnt see, thank God they didn't see. I called for my dad, to get the kids. I went outside to call the cops. My dad came, and spoke.
He spoke and spoke to the both of us, trying to make things better. From a dad's perspective, from a Christian's perspective, from a man's perspective. He tried to reconcile us. It worked. We agreed for a peace, but how long will it last? I am scared, he is scarred. Will it happen again, I don't know. If it does, will I escape? Will I have a place to go? I don't know...