We had been trying to leave for years. He kept us captive with his anger, making it feel like the man we once knew was long gone - dissolved, evaporated, and evolved into something so much more sinister. The kids and me, we wanted to leave, but when we did he would follow. The police didn’t listen to our cries. Neither did the neighbors. To everyone else, he was the picture perfect husband. All smiles and hugs and positive energy. Until the doors closed and he was alone with us.

But we’re inside now and he’s outside. I’ve called the cops; I’ve had enough. He’s hit me one too many times. Through my tears I hear them coming, and speaking with him, asking him what’s wrong. I call from inside for help.

“All a misunderstanding, officer,” I hear him say. “If they would just let me back in the house, then we wouldn’t have this problem!”

“Sure, sir, let’s go in and see. It’s awfully hot out here!”

My heart drops as I hear the cop knocking and I look through the peephole to see his smiling face peering back at me.

“Time to let me back in, sweetie. Playtime is over,” he says in a sing-song voice.

I don’t open, and before long the cops kick in the door.

This battle will never be won.