"You need to go to the police, Skylar. If you don't, he won't stop and if he doesn't stop..."
The fear in her mother's voice was palpable. "You have a son to think about, too."
"I know, Mom, but I can't go to the police. It's too dangerous," she told her mother.
"Skylar, that makes no sense. Doing nothing is too dangerous. Doug's abusive and he needs to be arrested and go to jail. What about Benjamin, for goodness sakes?"
She'd tried explaining this to her mom before. She'd tried calling the police once, a mistake she'd never make again. They'd dutifully come right out to their modest home in Buckley, Washington, and separated her from her husband.
Doug Lawrence had become controlling soon after she married him, but had only recently became abusive as his heavy drinking had gotten completely out of control. The officers had taken their statements individually and she was told this was a case where it was her word against his. The female officer who spoke with Skylar told her, "You can get a restraining order if you like, but keep in mind it's only a piece of paper."
"I'm afraid," Skylar told her. "I'm afraid of what he'll do when you leave."
Skylar Andrews-Lawrence had good reason to be afraid. Her husband of ten years had recently been fired from the mill where he'd worked since being discharged from the Army, and he blamed everyone but himself and his drinking for being let go.
He'd been controlling, but never physically violent until about a three months ago after he'd gotten drunk and pushed Skylar up against a wall, poking her in the chest hard enough to leave marks. The next day, after he'd sobered up, he barely remembered what he'd done and half-heartedly apologized before getting drunk on his ass again that evening.
Since then, he'd slapped her face so hard she really thought she was seeing stars. This latest time he'd grabbed her and shaken her like a rag doll for over a minute. She'd been wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt so the marks on her wrists were too faint to be conclusive. There were no bruises to serve as evidence of her claims, and Skylar was now very afraid for herself and for her two-year old son who'd screamed the entire time his father was hurting her.
She no longer felt just afraid. She now felt—desperate.
"There's a battered women's shelter in Seattle and another in Tacoma," the officer had also told her. "And if that doesn't work for you, have you given any thought to trying to put away enough money to get out of town? Do you have anyone you can trust to stay with who doesn't live anywhere near here?"
She saw the fear in Skylar's eyes and said, "Look, I'm gonna be brutally honest with you, Mrs. Lawrence. Nowhere is really safe if a man like your husband has the time, money, and interest to find you. So unless you can get him arrested and convicted, this threat won't just go away. And even if that happened, you could face the same problems when he gets out. I can't tell you what to do, but I know if I felt afraid for my life, I'd leave. Well, in my case, I might shoot his ass dead, but..."
Her husband heard Skylar laugh nervously and glowered at her causing her to break eye contact.
"Seriously, you should have an escape plan. Beg, borrow, but please don't steal—I don't want to have to arrest you—whatever money you can get your hands on," she joked trying to lighten the deadly serious mood. "Do that then have a plan to get free and clear of him. That may not protect you forever, but it will buy you time, and it might just be enough to discourage him and cause him to give up. I'm sorry there's nothing more we can do, but without physical evidence or an eyewitness, this is it."
She handed Skylar a card and said, "This also has my personal number on it. Call me anytime, day or night, okay? And good luck."
The house was very quiet after the police left and once Benjamin fell asleep. The only noise was her husband opening cans of beer, the occasional belch, and the sound of an aluminum can being crushed. Skylar slipped upstairs and got into bed but couldn't sleep knowing he could be there in an instant and do pretty much anything he wanted. He was well over six feet tall and weighed well over 200 pounds—the last 25 added largely thanks to someone named Budweiser. Skylar was 5'6" and 115 pounds, and without a gun, something she didn't own, she was no match for her angry, drunk husband.
She thought back to how handsome and charming he'd been in high school when he was a star athlete and she'd been a cheerleader. His lifestyle choices had exacted a very heavy toll, but having known him so long, Skylar could occasionally still see a reasonably good-looking man in spite of the beer gut.
Skylar was still a very attractive woman and pretty enough to be flirted with anytime Doug wasn't around when she went out somewhere. They'd dated during their senior year then lost touch when he joined the Army for eight years. She'd almost gotten married once but felt so happy and so lucky she hadn't when Doug returned home and asked her out. A year later they were married and four years ago she'd gotten pregnant with Benjamin. At 35, she was now afraid for her life, and the life of her three-year old son from the man she'd once loved and trusted.
It was just after midnight when he stumbled into the bedroom and turned on the light.
Out of nowhere, after a very calm, quiet evening, he slurred, "You fuckin' bitch!"
For the next ten minutes, Skylar suffered through the worst verbal haranguing of her life. He called her every name in the book and threatened to kill her if she ever called the cops again.
He was drunker than she'd ever seen him before, and she was shaking the entire time. Suddenly, he grew calm and started undressing himself nearly falling over when he removed his pants. She felt sick as the smell of beer and sweat filled their bed and she thought she'd vomit when he got on top of her.
"I love you so much, Skylar," he said nearly crying now and barely able to pronounce the words, his mood having done a '180'.
"Sometimes you just make me so angry. You're so beautiful and I hate when other guys look at you."
Nothing he said logically followed anything else, but that was the way drunks talked.
He had her wrists pinned against the bed, and he was using his knee to push her nightie up. The thought of him even touching her made her sick, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd endured what was essentially a rape to make him fall asleep and leave her alone. She knew she couldn't get him off her so she closed her eyes and prayed.
She felt him fumbling around with her panties as tears fell from her eyes. She didn't fight him but she refused to make it easy for him as she forced her legs together as much as she could.
"You like it when they look at you, don't you, you fucking whore!" he slurred heavily now very angry again.
He opened her legs again, and she felt him trying to push, but there was nothing there. He was so drunk he couldn't get it up, and after several attempts he gave up without another word. He literally fell over beside her and within seconds was out and snoring loudly.
And that's when she made her decision. She too, was going to be out—out of this house, out of this state, and out of his life. She didn't yet know where she'd go or how she'd get there, but she was going and the sooner the better.
The problem was she didn't have enough money to leave. In fact, she had no money at all. He controlled the checkbook and had taken away her bankcard along with a threat of violence if she so much as thought of taking money out of the bank. That had been a month ago when there were still a few dollars left in their account. That money was now long gone, and they were living on credit cards which were nearly maxed out with no income to pay the bill when the statements came due.
The following evening, Skylar looked for something to feed her son knowing they were extremely low on food and milk.
Benjamin was hungry and started crying. "Shut the damn kid up, would you!" Doug hollered at her.
"He's hungry and we don't have anything to feed him with. I need to go to the store and buy..."
"Like hell you will!" he roared. "You think I'm stupid? If I give you money, you'll leave!"
"Fine, then you go, but he needs food and milk!"
He was drunk again and in no shape to drive, and her reply set him off. He towered over her and pulled her out of the chair she was sitting in. His powerful hands grabbed her under her jaw and he lifted her off the ground and slammed her head into the wall.
"Don't ever tell me how to raise my son!" he spat. "You hear me?"
Skylar's eyes were wide with fear and as his thumbs wrapped around her neck she found it hard to breathe.
