With both fists flying at my face, I tried to protect myself. It was so hard to believe that the man that loved me for thirteen years would want to hurt me so bad. He tried to pry my arms apart so that he could continue to hurt my face. It was at this moment that I knew I would die.

I tried to get away, but he pulled my hair. When I would fall to the floor, he kicked me in the back and my head. He convinced himself that I wasn’t his wife. He tried to pull my face off. He kept telling to stop faking. He swore the blood running down my face and out of my nose was fake.

When he wrapped his hands around my throat, he kept repeating, “you will die tonight.” "I'm going to kill you. I swear, I'll kill you." I kicked myself off of him and ran as fast as I could out of the house and down the road. Blinded without my glasses, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I jumped into the bushes thinking that he would come after me. I stayed in a crouched position for what seemed like an hour or so. I waited until darkness.

With my legs frozen and stiff, I ran as fast as I could through backyards and wooded areas. I was too afraid of walking on the road. I only had a small sense of direction of where to go. I was so cold and my face and head hurt. I knew I had to stay conscious. I had to stay awake. My kids were relying on me to get help.

Just when I thought that I couldn’t walk anymore, I saw a stream of lights in the distance. Slowly, I made myself through the woods and down a dark road. I walked up to the fence, and noticed the sign, “authorized police vehicles only.” I made my way to the back door, and dropped on the steps. Exhausted and cold, I sat there to rest when a woman state trooper arrived. She asked me if I was OK, and I just said, “Please, help me.”

Several officers helped me and called the EMS. I was asked so many questions about the incident. Yeah, the incident that haunts my dreams as I try to move on with my life. Photos were taken of my body’s bruises.

Those troopers saved my life. My husband was taken to jail and my children were put in protective services.

I remember most of the events of November 2, but I can’t remember the order they happened. It was hard for me to believe that this happened to me. But, as I laid in the hospital bed, as a hidden and safe patient, I would stare in the mirror at my unrecognizable face.

It took me two hours to comb out my hair; meanwhile, I was filling up a garbage can with the hair that came out of my head.

I was in the hospital for seven days. After I was released, a friend of mine took care of me until I was ready to return to my home. I am not one to easily ask for help, but I knew I needed it. Usually, I am the one that takes care of others.

I was surprised, however, that the arrest did not make the papers. I guess it’s just another domestic violence case that no one cares about. It’s probably because I survived.

I thought I would die. I knew that if I stayed, I would die. It would be easier for me if I could hate my husband. I will never forgive him for what he did to me or how he hurt my kids emotionally.

I can’t get the attack out of my head. When I am awake, I am reminded and when I try to sleep, I can feel the fists hitting my face again.

I think what makes me feel so strange is that I have written several novels where a woman overcomes an act of violence and it makes her stronger. I have never been put in that situation before. I never had to run for my life before. I had even wrote about a woman who had to make her way through woods in order to escape a madman.

When I read through my novels, and read the experiences of my characters, I realize that the feelings that I have now, are what I had written about. My recently published book, Unwritten Life, believes that life is written out for the path of happiness, and to quote my character, “I believe that life is written out for you, it maps out your life to make you happy… This wasn’t planned for me, it just happened.” I can only live my life one day at a time, one moment at a time. I just hope that others know, that there is an escape, planned or not. 

Please feel free to contact me via email with questions, comments or your own story. awitkowski@nycap.rr.com