The Journal Wins

January 20, 1997

The kids and I had a great day. Scott called and said he would be home before 5:00PM. Scott arrived around 10:15PM. He quietly sneaked in the door and took two steps before lying on the living room floor (obviously drunk). He came toward the couch, where I had planned on sleeping, and said that I was burning his money. I wasn't even smoking at the time. He continued to talk about his money and said I shouldn't talk about him. Because I was on the phone with my mother when he came through the door, he assumed I was talking about him.

He punched me in the right leg. Then he started pounding on the kitchen counters and woke up the children. He went to the kids' bedroom and lay too close to Matt, who asked him nicely to get off of him. I coached Scott away from Matt, and he started talking crazy but I can't seem to remember the specifics (that's when my mind shuts down). I brought both children into my bedroom and planned to help them rest because it was a school night. Unfortunately, Scott followed us and yanked a pillow out from behind me. Later, he grabbed April's pillow and with much force and meanness threw it in her face (upsetting her terribly). Matt tried to calm his sister down. I decided it wasn't going to get better and that we had to leave.

Upon my request, the children went to pack school clothes. I was talking again on the phone with my Mom because she didn't hang up. Scott follows me into the bathroom and throws everything off the cabinet (primarily clothes) onto the floor, then grabs and slams the phone into my head and disconnects it. I had to try to get my clothes for work. While I was digging in the bottom drawer, he slams me into it and breaks the drawer. He has a heavy duty metal flashlight raised over his head and I thought he planned to crack my skull; instead, he hits the flashlight forcefully on the bed several times to threaten me. It is only inches from my head. He continues cussing me, calling me a liar, telling the kids that I am trying to rob him and that he didn't do anything wrong. He admits to nothing he does and takes hurting us lightly.

We fled then called 911 to have Scott restrained. We waited in the car for the police to come so we could warn them that Scott had a gun. We are in our pajamas at the magistrate's office after midnight. This is where it feels like I have finally hit bottom. I am angry and ashamed. My poor children!