Part two...

I left a couple things out of that last post. I need to finish.
People ask me why I didn't leave... It was the life I was living, I put myself in that situation and honestly, if you know me- you know that I live on the rush! The adrenaline, the risk... that's what life is about! Right? I loved him, he was my life. He was the sweetest, most loving man a woman could want most of the time. His world revolved around me! Yeah, I was young and didn't get it at first, and was one of those who made excuses for him. I think my hospital records show that was one of my worst years with seizure injuries!
When the abuse got worse, when I started seeing the scars that I knew would never go away... like my eye... the forever reminders not of how I had been treated, but of what could happen next. There was a night, I laid in bed wide awake thinking about what tomorrow would bring... I pulled my handgun from the side of my bed- it hung in a holster between my nightstand and bed always fully loaded. I got up and looked at my husband sleeping so peacefully... I pointed that gun at his head, and I didn't move for over an hour. I wanted so badly to pull that trigger and stop my pain. But would it? How does killing a person make your pain go away? Revenge is not the answer! But that isn't what stopped me. The thoughts started racing... what if I miss? he will wake up from the sound and immediately go for one of the weapons on the wall- then determine who was after him... and he would find me standing there. He would kill me! No questions asked, I would have been shot that night. It would get me out of my pain... but I wasn't ready to die! I had a life to live. I put away the gun and collapsed into bed, wrapped my arms around him and cried myself to sleep. Like I said before, I loved this man with every ounce of my being, I could never hurt him.
When I finally got the courage to leave, my dad wanted to call the police and report it... I refused to do that. I just wanted it all to be over.