I saw it batter against the glass snarling.

I say “It” because the thing that was outside right now was not the man I married. The Peter I knew was a sweet, caring guy who loved a laugh and was friends with everyone. That is, until the booze got to him.

He was not an alcoholic. It wasn’t like he was dependent on the stuff, but he had a problem all the same. It would only take one or two beers and his whole demeanor would change. First, he would become demanding, shouting orders left and right which I had no choice but to obey. Next came the verbal abuse, the putdowns and the use of every derogatory term in his vocabulary. If nothing else, this had made me develop a very strong spine as I just learned to take it.

If I were lucky that would be it. The volume would die down, insults would decrease, and he would stumble to bed and snore loudly for the rest of the night.

Today I was not lucky!

I could hear him outside, his ranting and yelling getting louder. He had already hit me once, that’s when I had bolted for the bathroom and locked the door. Probably not the best idea, I had no way to call the police and he would be in here shortly. The best I could do was fight him off.

“Where are you, bitch?” he had made his way inside and I knew it wouldn’t be long. I cowered, trying to keep my crying to a minimum.

“Yoo-hoo, where are you?” his shoulder suddenly rammed against the door, splitting the wood straight down the middle. I screamed as his large frame entered the room. The last thing I remember thinking before his fists rained down on me was that this was not the guy I knew. There was peace within this beast.