"By this time, my TGGF was a beast at the five-finger discount and any high-end store’s worst nightmare. I was sharp as hell that day-wearing an outfit that she had boosted for me: a white fitted-T, a sky-blue corduroy and sheep-skin Carol Little mini with the sky-blue corduroy and sheep-skin Carol Little puffy jacket to match. She kept me laced in Adrienne Vittadini and Carol Little. 

But this day, my little ass was caroling octaves of a soprano desperately fighting hard to get my balance and grab hold of either the banister or the strong hand
that held my entire body stiff and unable to turn around to gain any footing. 

Regardless of the direction I tried to turn, I was being dragged backwards-scalp, head and body: throbbing. 
The back heels of my shoes hit every step like fingers pouncing piano keys of an intense and violent score played by Bach or Brahm while I screamed opera of the Kathleen Battle kind. 

I was stunned, tired and sore as hell. 
He refused to let me catch my breath or my footing even when we got to the bottom floor-which was about seven yards long before you could reach the front door to get in or out of the building. 

Like some Spartan of a caveman having clubbed his woman, he bust through the front doors of the apartment, delivering my head in his hands to Aya and Twin who were right there waiting in the parking lot where he finally allowed me to get my footing. 

Thinking that it was all over, I stood there in total vertigo and Shaken-Lady Syndrome, trying to focus in on Aya and Twin standing there with their arms folded and looking unsurprised-as if they knew he had plans to do something drastic anyways. 

My screams must have alarmed the Goths in the bottom floor apartment. They were having a party that was interrupted by my soprano through the halls. They all came outside where they were met by the scene of him picking me up and tossing me around every which way possible while he tried to decide at what point and where he wanted my lifeless body to land whenever he prepared to throw it. 

When he got tired of tossing and swinging me around, he stopped to catch his breath and began choking the wind out of me as if somehow the wind from my body was going to be enough to give him the wind to set sail.


I kept both my hands up and visible in a position of surrender but he paid that no mind.

He wanted to use his fists to hit me so badly but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

He wanted to kill me so badly, but he was scared. 

He was rabid. I had never seen him this mad before. 

I was right in the middle of that moment where I understood how someone could kill another person who they loved in the heat of an angry moment. 

I saw it coming. 

The anger of not having the heart to do it caused him to do everything else but strike me. 
He knew that if he struck me-he would definitely kill me.

I was tired. I didn’t care anymore. At that moment-I was numb. 

My mind, my body, my soul and my spirit was literally numb. Had he killed me-I swear I wouldn’t have felt a thing. His choking, swinging, tossing and throwing me around hurt me so badly that I wished he would’ve just hit me and been done with it and me and so that there would be no more pain." 

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