The Night That Changed My Life Forever
I just started my new life, free of Paul, my soon to be ex-husband, and beginning my new job working as a security officer in Charlotte, NC. I accepted this job hoping to go on to become a police officer which had become a dream of mine
It was my first night on the job working security for a grocery store. Paul called me at work a couple of times, asking how the car was doing, how the job was going, and then he finally asked if I could bring the baby over when I got off that night. He would be going out of town the next morning because he was an OTR truck driver and would be gone for a week or so. I could tell he had been drinking by the way he was slurring his words, but it really didn’t concern me too much at the time.
After I got off of work I went to my Aunt Rita’s house to pick my daughter up. Mary was 18 weeks old and I stayed for a while talking to my aunt about typical first mother jitters and questions. Paul called while I was there, “Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you here yet?”
“Sorry” I said, “I was talking to Aunt Rita, I will leave soon.”
“You better.” He said and then hung the phone up.
You know how you always get that feeling in the pit of your stomach when something just isn’t right? It’s almost like you swallowed a thousand butterflies and they are in there turning summersaults. I had that, but I regrettably let it go. My aunt was begging for me to stay the night, but I didn’t want to be accused of keeping the baby from Paul. Heading out the door I gave her a hug and kiss.
The whole way to his apartment I wanted to turn around and go back. It was just that nagging feeling, but I continued toward his apartment. If I had only known how true that feeling of anxiety was. I pulled up in front of the apartment complex, took a deep breath and got the baby out of her car seat. I went to the front door and knocked. It was cracked a little and I could see the light from the living room as he told me to “Come on in!” And into that living hell I went.
It was then that he had me and I was startled when he knocked me to the ground; baby still in my arms. One cannot imagine the fear as I realized I was in for another beating. He held two kitchen knives. One was a typical butcher knife that you would find in your wooden block of knives on your kitchen counter and the other was its dueling partner in crime, the handy dandy filet knife. Dazed by what I was seeing I really didn’t understand what was about to happen. He lunged at me with the butcher knife, stabbing into my head. I didn’t feel the pain, just the fear. I couldn’t believe this was happening. He was trying to kill me! He did this two more times and the butcher knife broke off into my head. I still had Mary lying in my arms underneath me, so I couldn’t fight back. All I could think about was trying to protect her, not knowing what he was going to do next. Paul started screaming like a mad man, “I’m going to kill you! I am going to cut off your head and hang it on the bedpost for everyone to see!” “We’re all going to die tonight - you, Mary, and then me.”
He ran back to the kitchen, he was faster than I was, and he was back on me before I knew what happened. He had actually gone back into the kitchen for another knife. This time it was the long serrated one. I begged him, “Paul I love you honey. Please let us go!” “We can work things out, I love you!” But he was looking at me like Satan himself, with those cold black eyes. I had never seen eyes go that black. You couldn’t tell pupil from iris. He told me, “NO, if I can’t have you then you won’t be around for anyone else!” He started stabbing at me again, this time in my legs.
I was begging for my life and could actually hear the heavy-set man upstairs, stop to listen. But he never bothered to call for help. He just sat there and listened. Every now and again I would hear him move around and then more silence. I was praying the whole time that he had called the police and they would be there soon. I was wrong. How anyone could listen to what was going on and not do anything about it I will never understand. At the same time it is funny the things you remember during a time when you are just fighting for the survival of you and your child.
By this time Mary started to cry and scream, or maybe it was just then that I heard her. Paul was still stabbing at me and screaming about how he was going to kill me. By then I just didn’t care what happened to me anymore so I begged for him to just let me put the baby down to sleep. Once the baby was asleep, he could do whatever he wanted to with me. I screamed at him, “Kill me, just not in front of the baby.” He finally agreed and I thought that maybe I was going to get us out of this.
Down the hall I went into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed trying to calm Mary down. Paul followed me into the bedroom. He wasn’t finished. With renewed energy he came at me with the knives and attacked my shoulder. I continued to beg him to stop, that we could go back to the way things were and that everything would be ok. The more I talked the more he started to listen. He finally calmed down some and told me that we could never go back to the way it was before. If he let me live then he would be arrested and go to jail for what he had done to me. I told him that wasn’t true. I could go to the hospital and tell them that I was attacked by a stranger.
We continued to talk and he finally agreed to let me go. He told me to go crash the car into a ditch and say that someone had carjacked me. There was one hitch though, I could NOT take Mary. He told me if I didn’t do what he said, if he saw any police around, he would kill her and then himself. I was terrified but I knew it was the only way to try and get help. The baby had fallen asleep by now and I realized that this had been going on for more than two hours. I started toward the front door of the apartment with him right behind me. I was almost there, almost out. And that’s when it happened; he grabbed me and swung me around to face him. Then, as I faced the devil alone, he looked at me with those eyes. The blackest, coldest, scariest eyes I think I have ever seen. It was then that I honestly knew I had faced the devil. He looked at me and told me to take my clothes off. I was exhausted and ready to die. I prayed to God to just let it be quick, that His will be done and to watch over Mary and keep her safe. I proceeded to take my security officers uniform off while trying not to look at myself. When I was finished, he walked around me like a shiny new car on display. He smiled and said, “Wow! I really messed you up good didn’t I?” He was so proud of his handy work and it showed in his face. He ordered me to put my clothes back on and with one last word of caution, he allowed me to leave. Two hours of living hell and I was finally sent on my way with a promise not to tell. The worst part was I had to leave my daughter behind.
I got to the car and started heading down the road, first instinct was to go to Mom. My mother’s house was 15 minutes away and so I made the trip to her driveway only to turn around because of the way I looked. I knew that I had to look rough, I knew there was blood and a chunk of skin from my head, with the hair still attached, on my shirt. I couldn’t go to my mom looking like this. I drove back to the main road and continued toward a small shopping center that I knew would have a pay phone outside. I knew I would have to call the police and I would have to make them understand that my daughters’ life was in danger.
As I got to the shopping center, the Guardian Angel that had been with me all night was still there, for in the parking lot was a police car coming out of a parking spot and I came skidding to a stop in front of him. I remember jumping out of the car and running toward the officer. I guess I was lucky, it all happened so fast and I startled him so bad he didn’t quite know what to do. I started to explain that Paul had my daughter and was going to kill her if he saw them coming, but they had to get her. Here I stood bleeding, with my clothes shredded on me and ranting about someone holding my daughter. The officer was finally able to calm me down some and he asked me to pull up my pants leg so he could look at the wound that I had. I didn’t even have to look, I could tell by the look on his face and the pale ash color that he turned, that it was not good. At that time I finally did look down to see my leg laid open like a filleted fish. I remember him telling me to sit down and him calling the ambulance.
I remember having to repeat the story to the officers and emergency personnel on the way to the hospital. The nurse asked if I wanted them to call my mother and I screamed at them “NO!” I was afraid for my mother to look at me like this so I had them call my Aunt Rita and tell her to come, but not to call my mother.
By the time she got to the hospital, an officer came in and told me they had Mary and she was fine. I was so relieved that I finally let them give me something for the pain and I drifted off to sleep while they stitched me up. I woke to my mom standing over me crying, she told me that they were going to have to operate on my left leg and on my right arm. The damage on both was so extensive they were going to have to repair tendons and nerves. I cried as I kissed my mother and they wheeled me toward the operating room.
I finally woke three days later to excruciating pain but I was alive…and my family was with me. My mother cried as they told us that I would recover but that I would probably never walk with my left leg again and that I would never regain full capacity of my right arm. I never thought words like that could make a person so happy, but for me it did. Mary was safe and I had survived. I looked the devil in the eye and won, and by the grace of God I had been delivered out of hell.
It was my first night on the job working security for a grocery store. Paul called me at work a couple of times, asking how the car was doing, how the job was going, and then he finally asked if I could bring the baby over when I got off that night. He would be going out of town the next morning because he was an OTR truck driver and would be gone for a week or so. I could tell he had been drinking by the way he was slurring his words, but it really didn’t concern me too much at the time.
After I got off of work I went to my Aunt Rita’s house to pick my daughter up. Mary was 18 weeks old and I stayed for a while talking to my aunt about typical first mother jitters and questions. Paul called while I was there, “Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you here yet?”
“Sorry” I said, “I was talking to Aunt Rita, I will leave soon.”
“You better.” He said and then hung the phone up.
You know how you always get that feeling in the pit of your stomach when something just isn’t right? It’s almost like you swallowed a thousand butterflies and they are in there turning summersaults. I had that, but I regrettably let it go. My aunt was begging for me to stay the night, but I didn’t want to be accused of keeping the baby from Paul. Heading out the door I gave her a hug and kiss.
The whole way to his apartment I wanted to turn around and go back. It was just that nagging feeling, but I continued toward his apartment. If I had only known how true that feeling of anxiety was. I pulled up in front of the apartment complex, took a deep breath and got the baby out of her car seat. I went to the front door and knocked. It was cracked a little and I could see the light from the living room as he told me to “Come on in!” And into that living hell I went.
It was then that he had me and I was startled when he knocked me to the ground; baby still in my arms. One cannot imagine the fear as I realized I was in for another beating. He held two kitchen knives. One was a typical butcher knife that you would find in your wooden block of knives on your kitchen counter and the other was its dueling partner in crime, the handy dandy filet knife. Dazed by what I was seeing I really didn’t understand what was about to happen. He lunged at me with the butcher knife, stabbing into my head. I didn’t feel the pain, just the fear. I couldn’t believe this was happening. He was trying to kill me! He did this two more times and the butcher knife broke off into my head. I still had Mary lying in my arms underneath me, so I couldn’t fight back. All I could think about was trying to protect her, not knowing what he was going to do next. Paul started screaming like a mad man, “I’m going to kill you! I am going to cut off your head and hang it on the bedpost for everyone to see!” “We’re all going to die tonight - you, Mary, and then me.”
He ran back to the kitchen, he was faster than I was, and he was back on me before I knew what happened. He had actually gone back into the kitchen for another knife. This time it was the long serrated one. I begged him, “Paul I love you honey. Please let us go!” “We can work things out, I love you!” But he was looking at me like Satan himself, with those cold black eyes. I had never seen eyes go that black. You couldn’t tell pupil from iris. He told me, “NO, if I can’t have you then you won’t be around for anyone else!” He started stabbing at me again, this time in my legs.
I was begging for my life and could actually hear the heavy-set man upstairs, stop to listen. But he never bothered to call for help. He just sat there and listened. Every now and again I would hear him move around and then more silence. I was praying the whole time that he had called the police and they would be there soon. I was wrong. How anyone could listen to what was going on and not do anything about it I will never understand. At the same time it is funny the things you remember during a time when you are just fighting for the survival of you and your child.
By this time Mary started to cry and scream, or maybe it was just then that I heard her. Paul was still stabbing at me and screaming about how he was going to kill me. By then I just didn’t care what happened to me anymore so I begged for him to just let me put the baby down to sleep. Once the baby was asleep, he could do whatever he wanted to with me. I screamed at him, “Kill me, just not in front of the baby.” He finally agreed and I thought that maybe I was going to get us out of this.
Down the hall I went into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed trying to calm Mary down. Paul followed me into the bedroom. He wasn’t finished. With renewed energy he came at me with the knives and attacked my shoulder. I continued to beg him to stop, that we could go back to the way things were and that everything would be ok. The more I talked the more he started to listen. He finally calmed down some and told me that we could never go back to the way it was before. If he let me live then he would be arrested and go to jail for what he had done to me. I told him that wasn’t true. I could go to the hospital and tell them that I was attacked by a stranger.
We continued to talk and he finally agreed to let me go. He told me to go crash the car into a ditch and say that someone had carjacked me. There was one hitch though, I could NOT take Mary. He told me if I didn’t do what he said, if he saw any police around, he would kill her and then himself. I was terrified but I knew it was the only way to try and get help. The baby had fallen asleep by now and I realized that this had been going on for more than two hours. I started toward the front door of the apartment with him right behind me. I was almost there, almost out. And that’s when it happened; he grabbed me and swung me around to face him. Then, as I faced the devil alone, he looked at me with those eyes. The blackest, coldest, scariest eyes I think I have ever seen. It was then that I honestly knew I had faced the devil. He looked at me and told me to take my clothes off. I was exhausted and ready to die. I prayed to God to just let it be quick, that His will be done and to watch over Mary and keep her safe. I proceeded to take my security officers uniform off while trying not to look at myself. When I was finished, he walked around me like a shiny new car on display. He smiled and said, “Wow! I really messed you up good didn’t I?” He was so proud of his handy work and it showed in his face. He ordered me to put my clothes back on and with one last word of caution, he allowed me to leave. Two hours of living hell and I was finally sent on my way with a promise not to tell. The worst part was I had to leave my daughter behind.
I got to the car and started heading down the road, first instinct was to go to Mom. My mother’s house was 15 minutes away and so I made the trip to her driveway only to turn around because of the way I looked. I knew that I had to look rough, I knew there was blood and a chunk of skin from my head, with the hair still attached, on my shirt. I couldn’t go to my mom looking like this. I drove back to the main road and continued toward a small shopping center that I knew would have a pay phone outside. I knew I would have to call the police and I would have to make them understand that my daughters’ life was in danger.
As I got to the shopping center, the Guardian Angel that had been with me all night was still there, for in the parking lot was a police car coming out of a parking spot and I came skidding to a stop in front of him. I remember jumping out of the car and running toward the officer. I guess I was lucky, it all happened so fast and I startled him so bad he didn’t quite know what to do. I started to explain that Paul had my daughter and was going to kill her if he saw them coming, but they had to get her. Here I stood bleeding, with my clothes shredded on me and ranting about someone holding my daughter. The officer was finally able to calm me down some and he asked me to pull up my pants leg so he could look at the wound that I had. I didn’t even have to look, I could tell by the look on his face and the pale ash color that he turned, that it was not good. At that time I finally did look down to see my leg laid open like a filleted fish. I remember him telling me to sit down and him calling the ambulance.
I remember having to repeat the story to the officers and emergency personnel on the way to the hospital. The nurse asked if I wanted them to call my mother and I screamed at them “NO!” I was afraid for my mother to look at me like this so I had them call my Aunt Rita and tell her to come, but not to call my mother.
By the time she got to the hospital, an officer came in and told me they had Mary and she was fine. I was so relieved that I finally let them give me something for the pain and I drifted off to sleep while they stitched me up. I woke to my mom standing over me crying, she told me that they were going to have to operate on my left leg and on my right arm. The damage on both was so extensive they were going to have to repair tendons and nerves. I cried as I kissed my mother and they wheeled me toward the operating room.
I finally woke three days later to excruciating pain but I was alive…and my family was with me. My mother cried as they told us that I would recover but that I would probably never walk with my left leg again and that I would never regain full capacity of my right arm. I never thought words like that could make a person so happy, but for me it did. Mary was safe and I had survived. I looked the devil in the eye and won, and by the grace of God I had been delivered out of hell.