Rage

She didn't know where the rage had come from. She had never seen it this bad before although it wasn't the first indication that there was a lot she didn't know about the man who was still her husband.

He stood outside on the patio, hands and face pressed to the glass doors. Occasionally she could hear him scream but she didn't wait for him to break the glass and get inside the house - she ran.

She knew she would never make it outside. Running had made her fast when she wanted to be but he could still out pace her and would catch her quickly if she left the safety of the walls surrounding her. Instead she ran for the stairs that led up to the bedroom, thinking of a defensible space.

Locking the door behind her she knew it wouldn't take long before his rage engulfed him and glass would shatter allowing him access into the home they once shared.

She could hear that the pounding on the patio doors had begun. He was no longer satisfied with intimidating her with phone calls and stalking. He had progressed to violence and she was certain it would only escalate.

She thought of the attic and began the climb to the highest part of the house. She knew that from there she could keep him at bay until help arrived.

Her climb took her to the last part of the house to escape to - and also the only part of the house unable to escape from.