by Wendy Pettit

Created on: August 08, 2008

I ache for her, yet there is nothing I can do. I see the scars; I see the pain in her eyes, but I stand helpless. I offer protection, but it is unwelcome. Her fear takes the place of logic. She gives her love willingly to a man who hurts her. The nightmare she lives does not extinguish her devotion.

"If I leave he will kill me!" she explained. "You just don't know how crazy he is!"

Was this true, or was it just another way he controlled her? It was apparent that he manipulated her mind into thinking she was no good. Did he manipulate it to think he would kill her if she left, or was that a sick reality she had to deal with?

I often wondered how long this could last. How many days or hours or minutes could she withstand the horror? I hoped for the day that she would finally stand up for herself. I envisioned her breaking free and living the life, she so justly deserves. At last, she would be free.

As I walked up the drive, a sense of uneasiness engulfed me. The eerie calm took me by surprise. I had never witnessed a calm quiet stroll up her driveway unless of course he was not at home. There was always the sound of screaming or breaking of furniture. He was certainly screaming when she called me on the phone.

"I've had enough!" she implored. "I'm not doing this anymore, come get me."

Did she already leave? Her determined voice on the phone, assured me that she would wait for me. I could tell by her voice that he had finally pushed her too far. He had delivered one too many blows. It seemed as though, anger and her instinct to survive, had replace her love and fear.

I acted immediately. I didn't want her to change her mind, again. I saw this as her last chance for a real life. I wanted to be there as she walked her way to freedom. I only hoped that it wasn't too late. I desperately hoped that he had left and she was quietly waiting for me inside.

"Please God, let her be OK." I begged. "She only needs this one last chance."

As I approached the house, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Before going inside I looked around, making sure he was not hiding somewhere. I needed assurance that he was not lurking about, only to ambush me when my back was turned. With no apparent enemy in sight, I slowly reached for the door.

I felt resistance as I pushed the door opened. It seemed as though there was something against it, blocking it from opening freely. As I shoved my way through, I quickly scanned the living room, making sure he wasn't lying in wait for me. Behind the door

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