started to sell and make some money, he would not pay any of bills and I was forced to pay everything. He made, and believe me, he was talented in sales, and made money. He also was jealous of my new associates, my boss, my office meetings, and he was the one who forced me to go to work. I told him that I wanted a divorce, since I now had a way to support myself and had been doing it. I no longer loved him as a man. He killed all the love and respect I felt for him. If ever a wife did everything in her power to help a husband…it was me. Because I no longer loved him, I did not want sex with him. He would strangle me and become violent at times because of it. Many times, I thought I would suffocate…I had to get out. When I felt the gun at my temple, I froze and did not move or say anything, but kept staring ahead at the TV. Suddenly he got up and went to the bathroom. He did not drink much, but I did smell bourbon on his breath. As in a trance, I got up and walked quickly as I could into the kitchen where dinner was being prepared and grabbed my daughter’s wrist and said,“Come with me now!” She had no idea what was happening, nor did our friend, the chef. I pulled her out the back door and said,“Run! Dad’s going to kill me!” She and I started running as fast as we could down the street toward the main intersection and as we did, we heard the shots behind us. It was a nightmare! (Actually, I, Debbie saw the gun being shot right behind me as my mom was in front of me running.) When we reached the intersection and were running across it into the gas station, a car pulled up and it was the Chef. He shouted,“Get in, he is going to kill you!” We jumped into the back seat and I pushed my daughter into the floor. I laid on the seat and told Chef to take us to the police station. In the state we were in we were not thinking because as we reached the police station, I ran up to the front desk out of breath and told them,“My husband is trying to kill me!” The police person said, “Where do you live lady?” I said,“Pompano Beach.” He said,“You are at the wrong station.You have to go to Pompano police station, sorry.” I could not believe that they couldn’t have cared less. So, back we went
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