I had gone shopping one Saturday morning with just Sasha. Unable to handle two children while shopping, I left Warren with Tom. Reluctantly, at that. However, I hurried with my shopping and tried to rush back before any drama could take place.
When I arrived home to find Warren sitting on a chair facing the wall, his chin buried in his chest, his body jerking with silent tears, I went berserk.
“Warren? What’s wrong? Why are you crying, Warren? Why are you sitting –”
Warren put a shaking hand to his lips, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Don’t talk, M…Mom, or you’ll get into t…trouble too.”
Furious at seeing my son so broken by his father, I pulled his hand away from his lips, then hugged him.
Tom entered the room. “Get away from him!”
“No, he’s four, Tom,” I yelled. “You can’t do this to him!”
I had never yelled at Tom before, so for a few moments, he looked at me in surprise. After he recovered, he grabbed me by the collar and hauled me away from Warren.
Warren started to scream, then Sasha started to cry.
“You don’t want to listen to me, you can go!” Tom said as he dragged me towards the front door.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I said, not wanting to be separated from my kids. “You are right. He needs discipline.”
Tom’s shoulders relaxed.
“Let me cool off a bit and I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.”
“That’s better,” Tom said and released my neck.
A couple minutes later, I approached Tom. “I need to buy a gift for Thea’s party tonight. Forgot all about it. I’ll just nip into the shops. Can you handle Sasha for half an hour?”
After hesitating, he reluctantly nodded.
I raced to the banks, and using both of Tom’s credit cards, withdrew five thousand dollars from each account. Slipping the ten grand in my bra, I dialed the cops. Quickly, I explained that I was leaving my husband and that I needed help. “I just need the cops to be present so that there is no drama,” I said. “Please.”
They agreed.
Feeling a little confident, I drove towards my home and lingered at the end of my street. When I saw the cop car, I followed them to my house.
Tom’s jaw dropped when he saw the cops behind me.
“I’m taking the children and I’m leaving,” I said.
“Why?” His voice was almost a whisper.
“Because I don’t like the way you treat me and I don’t like the way you treat Warren, Tom. I can’t take it anymore.”
For a few moments, his eyes became granite and his lips thinned. “Really?”
I nodded. In spite of his tangible fury, he threw out his hands and shrugged. “If that’s what you want, then…”
He was playing it cool for the cops. I knew his modus operandi. But I didn’t care. Freedom had arrived. In a few moments, I would be free.
I left my kids with a female officer and rushed around gathering stuff. Luckily, most of it was already packed and hidden, but I wanted to take as much as I could.
“Keep him downstairs,” I whispered to the cops.
They did, and I was able to get my jewelry from the safe as well. The jewelry would probably bring me another twenty grand, if not more, I thought as I shoved all of it into my pockets.
Tom was so quiet, I think he was shell-shocked.
But Tom, being Tom, couldn’t stay silent for long. When the cops’ backs were turned, he walked into my bedroom, leaned in and whispered, “I will get you for this.”
I didn’t answer, but continued packing.
“Hear me, Arena, I am going to hurt you in such a way, you will never recover from it. You will never be the same. Never!”
I paused with my packing, but did not look at him. I was too scared to. “What, you want to kill me, Tom?”
“Nope. Want you to live. Feel every day. Hurt every day. Wait and see.”
Slowly I turned to look at him. There was so much venom in his look, a chill ran through me.
Would he maim me, perhaps?
Unhinged by his cold threats, I raced downstairs, took Sasha from the cop, took hold of Warren’s hand, and started to leave my palatial home in St Ives, one of Sydney’s most affluent suburbs.
I still had my keys to the house, and I hoped that when he wasn’t around, I could slip in and take some more of my things.
“I want her keys,” Tom told the cops.
Damn!
Without arguing, I removed my house key from my bunch of keys and gave it to him. What he didn’t know was that I had another set made in anticipation of this. Hopefully, he wouldn’t change the alarm code to the house.
I bundled my kids into my car and started to drive towards a women’s shelter I had cased a few months ago.
I could afford a hotel room for the night, but I had read somewhere that to show real abuse, a woman should try to spend a night in a shelter. It strengthened her case of abuse later on. I didn’t know if that was true, but I did it anyway.
As I drove with the cops following me, I looked back at my son. “This is it, Warren,” I said in a shaky voice. “We’re going on a little holiday first, then on Monday, we are going to find an apartment and then we are going to –”
“– Live happily ever after, Mom?”
I laughed even though tears ran down my cheeks. “Exactly, my baby.”
At the next traffic light, I leaned back and put out my hand. “Hit me!”
With broad grins, we high-fived each other.
“I gotta get our song,” I said, and searched for my freedom song on my CD track. When it came on, I cranked up the volume.
“Sing with me, Warren! I feel free…”
And he did.
I was free.
We were free.
Finally, I could sing my song of freedom and smile, even though tears of joy and utter relief ran down my cheeks.