Alabama

About a month after my older son visited me, we had a visit from Child Protective Services. I was not at home. Jeff was at work. I had placed my younger son in a wagon and walked the two miles to the nearby small community. It was something I had started doing everyday if the weather permitted, without his knowledge or permission. I would wave to people and had started even talking to them, trying to make friends. Once a week the mobile library bus would make a stop and I was always waiting.

That day, I had stayed in town a little longer then usual. When I got home, there was a notice on the door from CPS. It stated there had been a complaint of child abuse and neglect. There was a phone number with a request for us to call. I didn't call, but waited until Jeff came home, then showed him the note. He panicked, telling me that we were going to go to jail and never see our child again. He then ordered me to get some clothes for us together, we had to leave right away. I asked why and where we were going. He said he didn't know, but for me to hurry before the law showed up.

A note here. Jeff was terrified of police. He hated them. He always blamed them, stating they were out to get him. He has had several DUI's. Each time it was never his fault. He was arrested (much later than this story) for attempted burglary, and claimed it was a conspiracy. I knew his feelings about police, so didn't argue with him.

I did as Jeff ordered me to do, and gathered some clothes and toys for myself and the baby. I also packed a bag with a few snacks, as we had not eaten supper. We all loaded into the truck and drove off. I asked where we were going. His answer was, we were going to his Mother's house. She lived in another state, and about 6 hours away.  I returned one time, a week later, to help Jeff pack and load all our belongings into a rental moving truck. The last thing I did before leaving was return my library books. 

I stayed with my mother-in-law for about 3 weeks. Jeff went alone to Alabama to find a job and a place for us to live. He stated that a couple of states away from where we had lived would be far enough away for us to be safe. He found a job delivering pizza, and rented a trailer at the end of a rural dirt road.

The first month was quiet. Jeff worked long hours and when he came home would bring pizza. It reached the point where I hated pizza. One evening I made the mistake of complaining about having pizza again. This made Jeff angry. He accused me of not appreciating everything he did ( gee how dare I not appreciate him for stealing pizza from his employer). There were many more words, cruel and violent, that brought me to tears. I kept apologizing. Jeff pulled my hair and slapped me several times, but did restrain from using his fists. (how thoughtful of him). 

Life continued, Jeff worked, brought home pizza, and almost everyday called me names and subjected me to verbal abuse. I spent my days playing with my son, going outside with him, taking walks, and wishing I wasn't such a terrible person.

My son celebrated his second birthday in Alabama. Two days later, Jeff lost his job. (for stealing pizza from his employer). That night he took his anger out on me, with his fists. He threatened to kill me and then brandished a knife. He made several swings at me, almost cutting me twice. I ran into my son's room and locked the door. He proceeded to repeatedly hit and kick the door, cursing at me, telling me to come out so he could kill me. My son stood on his bed crying and screaming in terror. I opened the bedroom window, picked up my son and put him outside. I then climbed out, picked him up and ran.

I ran as far as I could, then walked, still carrying my son. I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt and was barefooted, as I had not had time to put on shoes. Thank God it was summer. My son was in his pajamas. When I would see headlights, I would get off the road and hide in the bushes. Jeff drove by four times, calling my name, but did not see me. Although I only walked for about an hour, it seemed much much longer.  

The first lighted building I came to was a Fire Department. I didn't know if I would be able to get help there or not, but I was so tired and wanted to just sit somewhere for a little while. My son had finally fallen asleep and was now deadweight on me. The people inside the fire department were very helpful and called the police for me. 

The police officer wanted to arrest Jeff, but all I wanted was to get away. I was too scared that night and felt certain that if I had him arrested, he would kill me once he was out.  The officer took my son and me to a battered woman's shelter. Once I was inside, I broke down and couldn't stop crying. It was the first time in two years that I felt safe.

The workers at the shelter helped me find a job and day care. I stayed there for a month, then rented a small trailer near my job. I bought a car, went to work, loved my son, made friends with my neighbors and was happy... 

After two more months of blessed peace, I returned home to find my abuser sitting in the open door of my trailer, drinking beer. He greeted me, cursing and screaming that I was stupid if I thought I was going to keep his son. He threatened to kill me. I backed out as quickly as possible and drove off. 

I drove most of the night, stopping only once to get something to eat for my son and myself and gas for the car. I stayed in a motel in the city where I finally stopped for some rest. I was able to quickly find a job which included a place to live. I did not go back for any of our belongings. I found out later that Jeff had packed up and stored everything. I lived in the city for four months before Jeff contacted me again. I do not know how he found me.

Jeff claimed he had been in therapy (a lie), was changed (a lie), and really loved me. He begged me to give him another chance. He told me he had missed me, and our son. He told me that a boy needed a father. He used every argument he could. He treated me with the charm he had in abundance. So, like a fool, after 7 months of peace, I returned to the relationship.  He was a changed man for about a year before the abuse began again.

The happiest thing I remember about that time away from Jeff was Christmas. He did not want to celebrate Christmas. He said that it was something those "neo-Nazi baptists" (his words) did to force people to go to church. I bought a Christmas tree and decorations. My son "helped" me put it up and loved the lights. He wanted to sleep under the tree, and kept begging me to read to him about Jesus. 

Less than 3% of abusers will actually stop battering. Women leave an abuser an average of 7 times before finally leaving for good. The most dangerous time is when a person tries to leave an abusive relationship. Every 21 days a woman is killed by domestic violence.   

If you feel you are being abused or know someone who is being abused call the National Domestic Violence hotline. 1-800-799-7233.