For two days I was in pain.
Physical pain.
The kind of pain you feel after getting beat up.
Emotional pain.
The kind of pain you feel because it was your husband.

For two days I was sad.
Physical sadness.
The kind you can tell by cuts and bruises.
Emotional sadness.
The kind you feel when your children don't understand.

For two days I was happy.
Physical happiness.
The kind you feel when you're safe.
Emotional happiness.
The kind you feel when you're free to be yourself.

For two days I was in shock.
Physical shock.
The kind that is paralyzing and numbing.
Emotional shock.
The kind that you feel after you realize your marriage is over.

For two days I was ashamed.
Physical shame.
As I hung my head when the police were at my door.
Emotional shame.
The kind of shame you feel when all your neighbors find out your secret.

For two days I was scared.
Physically scared.
The kind where you hide like a hermit or watch over your shoulder.
Emotionally scared.
For my children's broken home, my broken heart; even his well-being.

For the first time, like like in a dream
Two days felt like an eternity and only a passing moment.
For the first time, like I had feared
Two days and he came back with a vengeance.
Those two days were over.

For the first time, like a true-to-life abuser
He sat on the couch. I see the broken glass behind him.
For the first time, like a typical victim
I accepted his return and embraced what goodness I found in him.

For the first time, I saw my life for what it was.
I was living in domestic violence.
For the first time, I felt my life was out of my control.
This wouldn't be only one time I felt this way.

The next time, I was still in anguish.
The same feelings, thoughts, and confusion.
The next time, came before the next time.
Until it surrounded every aspect of my life.

The next time, people would say:
Will be worse than this time.
The next time: it was predicted:
May be the last.

Every time they asked:
Why does she stay?
Every time I said:
When you don't know another way...