....no, I couldn’t just leave....I knew that if I did, I would be hunted down and killed....yes, he told me that, and I believed him.......because? because if he would put his cigarette out  on my arm...if he would break my finger, he would kill me....
Was he always like that? I don’t know anymore.....maybe it’s one too  many punches to the head...but I can’t really remember what he was like when we first met....when I try to recall those days....it’s all so cloudy.....no, the day of the murder isn’t cloudy....yes, I could tell you what happened....but I would rather not....no, it doesn’t upset me....but my kids will watch this and they had to sit through the trauma of the trial, they shouldn’t have to do that again........yes, I know the audience finds it hard to believe that I just happened to have a butcher knife in the bedroom....but I can’t explain that now any more than I could at the trial....I was on the floor...he was trying to step on my head with his boot and I looked and saw the knife under the bed....maybe he put it there....I don’t know ....but I reached for it and wanted to just stab at his foot to get him to stop, but I knew in an instant  that if I did that he would just take the knife out of my hand and stab me...and I didn’t know how hard he would stab me and if I would survive or be permanently disabled...and in a flash I saw my kids without a mother...and as he looked down to see what  I had in my hand I stabled him in the eye...then in the neck...then in the forehead....I must have cut a vein...there was blood everywhere...and in some sick way, I felt it wash away my fear...I just kept stabbing and stabbing....the next thing I remember I was in a hospital.........they said I was faking....that I had planned the entire thing.....only my prints were on the knife.....they paraded witness after witness who told them how great a pastor he was, how he always brought them comfort and god’s love ...I wouldn’t let the children testify....a three and four year old shouldn’t have to do that....not even for their mother......I know some people see jail as a cage....but not me....it’s like the hallway to freedom for me...you  can look at me and say there is a cold hearted killer...cold hearted....if only I had no emotion of the last eight  years....but in the not too distant future I will walk out into the sun a free and unafraid, fairly young