Flashbacks… I raced into our bedroom. My Ex trailing close behind. My heart pounding faster with each step. My mind focused purely on the moment at hand, SURVIVAL for myself and my unborn child. I slammed the door seconds from missing his hand, and I was able to lock the door just in time. I sat quivering, afraid to move, and unable to breathe. My Ex was banging on the door trying to get in. I thought I was safe. The door was locked. The pounding continued, and the next portion of my story was truly surreal. Imagine the big red round Kool-Aid guy jumping through my door screaming “Oh yeah.” Now envision Jack Nicholson in Stanley Kubricks movie The Shining breaking down the door with an axe, peaking his head through, and screaming “Here’s Johnny.” My Ex did not have an axe. Nor was he big, red, and round. He was drunk, enraged, and abusive. At that moment a portion of that door came crashing down, and I was trapped.