He'd been abusing me for a long time but this was the first time he'd pulled a gun on me. I knew I was about to die and I began to cry. I started praying for the Lord to protect my child and keep her from harm. I prayed he would cause Kenny to put down the gun and spare my life. This baby needed her mother and I wanted to see her grow up. I started thinking about all of the things I was going to miss out on. How she was going to have to grow up without a mother. All because this man got mad about something. My tears turned into anger and I began to fight back. If I was going to die I was going to die fighting for my life. I began to yell at him, "Just shoot me. Get it over with. Just shoot me." I acted as though I was not afraid and this caught him off guard.
After what seemed like forever he put the gun down and stormed out of the house. My legs were shaking so much I thought I was going to fall. I managed to make it to the couch where I sat there holding my baby, sobbing. I just sat there thanking the Lord for sparing my life. I knew I did not deserve it but He loved me enough to show me mercy. How could I raise a child in this kind of environment? You never knew what was going to set him off. You could just be sitting there on the couch watching TV. He would comment about something and if you did not say what he thought you should he would reach over a slap you. Sometimes that would be all he would do but other times he would become enraged. I knew she did not know what was going on but one day she would. As I sat there thinking about this I fell asleep holding her. I didn't want to put her down. I had to protect her because I didn't know when Kenny would be back.
Over the next several years the abuse continued. He would do or say anything he could to hurt me. If he didn't like something I said or did, he would just hit me. There were many times my daughter would have to come in just to help me get up.
One day I was in the bathroom getting ready to go somewhere. He began to get mad about something and ended up knocking me into the shower. I broke the door with my fall. When my daughter heard him leave, she came out of hiding to help me get up. I could not get up by myself because of the door and I was in so much pain. I was finally able to get out of the shower but I had to crawl to the bed. I could not walk, the fall hurt my back and hips. After each and every beating I received, my daughter would always ask me, “Momma, are you going to be alright?" I would always say “Yes, momma is going to be fine.” She needed reassurance she was not going to lose her momma.
A few weeks later we were outside working on the house. Everything seemed to be going good until he became mad. He was working on something and it was not working out. He started throwing things and I asked him to stop. I told him he could hit our daughter. She was playing nearby. I made a big mistake doing this. He became enraged. He started throwing tools at me while he was walking towards me. He was yelling at me, "If you are so big and bad you bitch then you do it yourself." I told him, "I will, just calm down." I began stepping backwards trying to keep my distance. I had to watch him and my daughter. I told her to go play on the front porch. With each step he took the rage inside him began to build. He began chasing me around the yard swinging a hammer trying to hit me in the head. He was screaming, "You can run if you want but I will catch you. You have to stop sometime. When you do, you are going to die." I can remember my daughter standing on the front porch screaming at him, “Please don't kill my momma.” Over and over again she screamed this at him and it did not phase him. As we continued to run around in the yard he finally ran out of breath. While he was catching his breath I ran and picked her up. I grabbed my keys, jumped in the car and we left. He got in his truck and began to chase us. He was trying to run me off the road while I was trying to out run him. My car would go faster than his truck but the road was so curvy I could not get away from him. After several miles he backed off, turned around and went somewhere else.
I was shaking so much I could hardly hold on to the steering wheel. I was functioning solely in survival mode. As we reached town, I did not know what I was going to do. I knew I didn't want to go home. I had no idea where he went so I kept looking around every corner expecting him to show up and finish what he started. We stayed in town until dark and I made it seem like we were on an adventure. This game helped my daughter and I escape the reality of what was going on.
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