I arrived home one night to find he had broken into my house. There were no overturned chairs or clothes thrown around. No, there was no sign other than the messages he left on my computer to let me know he'd been there. "I hope you die", it said, "I will see you in the cemetery."
Message after message... Life would never be the same again. All my fears of his threats, his promises to kill me and the memories of the beatings came crashing in on me like a hundred-foot tidal wave.
I sat staring at his words, frozen with fear, wondering if he was still in the house. Or was he sitting outside in his squad car, under the pretense of working? I didn't know — he could be anywhere at all, just like always.
What did it matter if he was around — there was nothing I could do. He had the gun, he had the power. He's the cop.
Watching and waiting for me, just like in the past when I'd left him. Would I wake up in the middle of the night again to find him standing by my bed, having been watching me sleep? I didn't know. Should I ever run the risk of falling asleep again?
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