Running from a Maniac

I’ve done some crazy things to get away from my ex when we fought.

Back in early 1990 we were having a few drinks on a winter Friday night with his brother and his brother’s girlfriend. Because we had children we couldn’t go out much, so we spent a lot of weekend nights drinking at home and playing board games. This night we were playing Pictionary and things turned heated.

I have this habit of being brutally honest when I’m drunk. So when the ex started in on me about not being able to draw well I got defensive. He gave me the look…the one that warned me not to step over any lines. But I did.

Before long I found myself telling his brother’s girlfriend that is her guy was anything like my ex she’d better get out now. I went on and on how he was just like his father and took pleasure in abusing his wife.

I remember the look of shock on everyone’s face, but I didn’t care. Eventually he’d had enough and threatened me. He told his brother they had to leave. Everyone knew what that meant. He was going to take care of his wife and her big mouth. While they were out on the front porch saying good-bye I was running for the back door. I realized I’d pushed too far and I was about to get my ass kicked.

Doing the only thing I could do; I ran. I didn’t have any shoes or a coat on. It didn’t matter. I had to get out of there as fast as I could. Here’s where the crazy part came in. I jumped the fence to the yard next door. The neighbors had two Doberman pinchers who didn’t like people, but I had more fear of my ex than the dogs. Someone was looking out for me because the dogs weren’t in the yard…they were always in the yard. Not that night.

I hopped two more fences until I came to the sidewalk and started running. My socks were soaked from the snow on the ground and my arms were freezing. I didn’t care. I planned to run to my mother’s house. She lived about eight miles from my home. It was almost midnight at this point. I knew I had to find safety.

While I was running my ex jumped in the car and started searching for me. He eventually found me and much to my surprise he didn’t beat the crap out of me. He’d pulled my hair and squeezed my cheeks and told me I’d never get away from him.

“You’ll never get away from me alive,” he’d said. I believed him.