By Faith

Murder Suicide

"Okay okay... just put the gun down. I'll come with you! I'll do whatever you want, just put the gun away, PLEASE!"

He pushed me up against the wall, gun to my face.

"You think I need a gun to kill you?!?! I can use my bare hands. You think I'm some punk b@&c!? I can snap your neck right now if I wanted to."

The smell of liquor was fresh on his breath. He pressed his body up against mine pinning me against the wall. My blood ran cold though my veins and the only sound was the thunderous beating of my heart. 

He held me there for a moment before continuing in his drunken stupor...

"Are you cheating on me?!?! Are you f&*k!ng some ni&&a?"

I swallowed to keep from crying, but a tear escaped anyway. I had no idea what he was ranting about!!! Nothing had happened. One minute we were having a quiet evening at home, the next he was literally at my throat. My children of course were off somewhere taking cover as usual and I  tried to comply to diffuse the situation.

Today I feel so far removed from that awful scenario which was once my grim reality.  Everyday I woke up in fear that one day my children and I wouldn't wake up!!! I was sleeping with one eye open, keeping watch over my kids by bunking in their room just to make sure they were safe. I would find any reason to stay up late, or better yet any excuse to stay over my mother's house for the evening.

I was scared! Terrified that my unstable police officer husband would neglect his civic or rather domestic duty to PROTECT his family and actually endanger or FLAT OUT take our lives. I waited in fear for him to load his weapon just to unload it into our flesh. I waited in horror for him to lose it one quiet evening and shoot us soundly as we slept before taking his own life as well.  I prayed that my family would never have to endure the grief that the headlines "Murder Suicide at 1627 Howard Chapel Court"would bring them.

I was afraid but I stayed, crippled by fear, immobilized by threats, waiting for an escape or waiting for it to happen.  I look back now and I am shocked by my actions, but I can remember that overwhelming feeling of loneliness and being trapped.

I remember wondering if this was it, every time a fight would ensue. I remember being worried for my children, and I remember being mad at myself for neglecting to take action...

And when it almost happened, when he cornered me into a closet pounding me with his blows. When he promised that he would take my life and his. When he terrorized my oldest child lifting her to the ceiling and throwing her to the floor, when he struck my baby boy, and put fear into my youngest girl with his illogical questions, when he near killed me, when I had no way out... GOD rescued us!!!

TWO YEARS LATER...

It's been two years since that day. A blessing and a curse at the same time. I was almost killed, but delivered instead. I think of it like a second birthday, because God gave me life for a second time when he released the hold from around my neck... when he perfectly coordinated the ring of the doorbell with the very instant in time that I was slipping from consciousness, when he pulled me from that darkness and directed me back into the light... that day changed my life. 

It was November 6, 2011. It gives me goosebumps to think of what could've happened if things would've taken a different turn. If God hadn't spared me... and what about my kids?!? Would he have killed them too? Two years later and for sure it would've been the anniversary of my death...

He grabbed my neck! I squirmed...

"Let me go! Get off of me!"

But he only squeezed harder. My children just a few feet away on the other side of the wall, while their father compromised my airway with an effortless grip around my neck. So many thoughts flooded my mind... "He's gonna hurt the kids", "I have to live!", "This is finally it!", "GOD Help Me!!!"

The look in his eyes was emotionless, he stared directly into my eyes with complete darkness, like I could see through his soul. There was no evidence of humanity... just evil. 

I fought him... I tried gouging at his eyes, kicking his groin, scratching, and other remedial methods to break free, but I was only wasting energy and feeding his wrath. The angrier he became, the tighter his grip. In little to no time, I COULDN'T breathe!!! I felt dizzy, I couldn't speak, there was no passage of air, then the fuzziness and the darkness came, and there was an eery peace... I knew I was dead, and I said a prayer for my children...

I find myself fighting back tears as I am writing this. 

It's strange to imagine  that I could have died right there on my kitchen floor at the hands of my own husband. Right beside my children. 

But instead, the doorbell rang right as I was prepared to depart with my life. For the first time in the midst of one our battles had the actual thought and acceptance of death entered my mind, but when I gave up on myself God did not and made His presence known.  

The police had arrived right on time, but not by coincidence. 

Now fast forward two years later...

There is peace of mind, my children are no longer afraid of their own shadows, I no longer live paranoid that he will be waiting for me behind a bush, or in the parking lot of some public place, my children laugh again! They play, they sing, they love, they excel in their interests, they do exceptionally well in school, they are free to be children! 

No more being afraid at home, no more screaming matches instead of lullabies, no more witnessing fights, no more crying, no more, no more, no more...

So I am thankful for November 6, 2011. I could've died that day, but instead God delivered my family...

Put the Baby Down!

"Put the baby down Claudine!"

"Why, so you can throw me across the room?!? "Our" child is screaming because of you. He's scared!"

"You have one more time to raise your voice at me. Now I am going to tell you again. Either you put the baby down or I will."

Not sure what he meant by that particular statement, I did not want to chance it. I only had seconds to make a decision, so I walked past him slowly and gently placed my screaming  newborn son in his play pen. Our girls slept peacefully in their beds unaware of the mayhem happening right outside of their bedroom door. 

 I was afraid to turn around, as I knew this 200 plus pound bully was waiting to attack. 

"Now you were talking all of that s&*! when you had the baby... what's up now now, huh? You think I'm some punk a$$ ni&&a off the street. I'm not a bi*$@, your husband can actually hold his own."

He continued his mindless banter and I desperately searched for an escape. While he bounced around like a boxer in a ring, my mind went to my children. My three babies 3,2, and just a few weeks. How would I get out of this one? This time I didn't even know what the argument was truly over.  He left the house early that evening, which had become a pattern. Shortly thereafter, I received a phone call from a "Gina" asking when he would be arriving to the party. Naturally, upon his return, I inquired and from that point World War 3 had erupted. I watched him, in his fighting stance and wondered how he could think that this was an equal match up, but I did not utter even a single breath...

"So you just gonna sit there and disrespect me? You don't hear me talking to you?" 

He pushed me down into the glass table and a pain seared down my side. There was blood but it was superficial. I wasn't too badly hurt. My newborn on the other hand was crying so hard that he was gasping for air. I was at a loss for what to do! I ignored my pain and stood to my feet. I politely said excuse me and walked around the near 300 pound monster standing before me.... Wrong move! 

He grabbed me by arm ad slung me onto the sofa...

"What the fu*! is wrong with you?!?! Where the he!! do you think you're going?"

"_________ the baby is crying! Please let me get to him, he needs me! He can't breathe!"

"Oh, so he needs "you"?!? What the fu*! am I? You don't think he needs me?"

Of course he found a way to twist my words. Then my heart sank and jumped to my throat at the same time! He walked toward our son and tears just flooded my eyes.

"Oh my God! Please________! Don't hurt him, he is just a baby! He doesn't know any different, he is crying because he wants to be comforted and he hasn't eaten! Please!!! I didn't mean anything by saying he needs me... only that I have to nurse him!

 I pleaded with him not to hurt my baby boy.

"Shut up! I'm not going to hurt my son! He's crying because he needs ME! Now look at that, he stopped. Ain't that right buddy? you wanted Daddy, not your dumb ass mother."

He walked to the kitchen and got the baby a bottle. He sat down for the next hour or so feeding, changing, consoling, and all the while speaking derogatorily about me to our newborn. He dared me to get up and I sat frozen in fear of so many of the deadly scenarios that consistently played through my mind. 

After one of the longest hours of my life, finally my beast of a husband fell asleep. I carefully picked up my baby and trembling I took shelter in my daughters' room. Afraid to leave, I locked the door and sat staring at it, waiting for him to come back for me. 

He didn't. Eventually I heard the front door. I had no regard for his whereabouts, instead I just took my children piled them in the car and like I had done so many times before sought shelter at my parent's home. 

Happy to see us, they did not suspect a thing. And again we were safe.