I was the envy of every girl in town. I had the perfect life, a loving husband and an adorable child. Beautiful and rich, all men and women alike wanted to be associated with me. My plastic smile was a permanent feature on my face, hiding all the pain I went through.

We had been married for two years now. My husband Ian was the richest man in town.  He was a politician and set to take over as governor. The idea that he was being groomed and prepared for that post had excited me from the start. I could picture myself on his arm on the campaign trail. I was excited and eager to support him through it. Love made me want to do anything to please him as he pursued his dream.

I remember meeting Ian. I was drawn to him from the get-go. He had an aura that commanded respect and fear in most people. In more ways than one, he reminded me of my father. I should have taken that as a clue and run. Instead I let him woo me with sweet words and private dinner dates. I was on cloud nine when he paid me attention.

When I got pregnant, the life of bliss we were living changed. I was no longer the perfect trophy wife; I couldn’t be seen in public. So I was locked up in the house, told to relax and take care of the baby. I found it sweet that he was worried about my health. So when the abuses started, I was in shock.

I was constantly told I was useless for being pregnant. That I was a fool to think a baby would keep him loyal to me. Day after day, I was torn apart with words. I had seen it all before. My mother had gone through the same at my father’s hands. Verbal abuse, moved on to physical abuse and she died at my father’s hands.

Ian got more and more abusive as the days went by. I lived in fear of what he would say next. Mentally defeated I took the abuse and let him control my everything. As my due day got closer, the abuses were filled with more and more anger.

A few days to my due date Ian raised his hand on me for the first time. His anger at a failed meeting was unleashed on me. As he hit me, something inside me snapped. For the first time ever, I told him to stop.  He simply laughed and hit me again. Blow after blow was reined on me as I screamed for him to stop. Something inside of me snapped as I thought of my baby. He was going to kill my baby if he didn’t stop. Filled with anger and fear that he cared nothing about our child I pushed him down the stairs.

I watched as he rolled and hit his head. I cried as I watched his eyes roll back and air run out of his lungs. Tears blurred my vision as I watched the man I had loved die. He was set to be governor, no one would believe he had hit me; I was going to spend my entire life in jail. I had one option if I wanted my baby to have at least one parent.  So I packed my bags and ran, to live in a prison where no one can know who I am. Fear once again rules my life only this time it is the fear of being caught.