He'd beaten me TO DEATH.
For years, I'd been taking it, accepting the beatings, silently believing the worthlessness he saw in me. I'd obeyed his rules, I'd catered to his whims.
I woke up in a hospital bed. Bruised, broken, in shock.
That was The Moment.
In that moment, I knew that I had to get out. I loved my husband. I missed him. But I needed more than he would ever offer. I deserved more than I'd been given, more than flying fists and fragile tempers.
I deserved to wear what I chose. I deserved to go where I wanted. I deserved goodnight kisses. I deserved gentle touches. I deserved to feel LOVED, and not POSSESSED.
I deserve to FIGHT for my FREEDOM.
