7/31/2016
There was a booming knock on the apartment door. A police knock? I knew that sound well. The last 3 years had been nearly a constant stream of police interaction. My thoughts were racing. I was trapped. Truman was still in the car. I had just gone inside to check on the cats. I was only supposed to be in and out.
Just minutes before, I opened the door to the apartment and was greeted by both cats. The cats my ex had claimed via text were missing. I was also greeted by my drunken belligerent ex. The prior three days had been filled with non stop phone calls and voice mails, 100's of emails and texts across all platforms (Facebook, Hangouts, etc). I just couldn't take it anymore and in that moment I snapped. I remember yelling "You are ruining my life!"
His laptop and phone were sitting on the end table next to him where he would perch in his green recliner as if it were his throne. In that moment I thought, if I take his laptop and phone I can make the abuse stop. I just wanted it to stop. And so I picked them both up and held the devices to my chest. He seemed confused in his intoxicated state and asked me what I was doing. And I firmly stated that I paid for these items and I was making the abuse stop.
He stood from the chair to take his things from me. My ex's 6 foot, 220 lbs towered over my 5ft, 160 lb frame. He grabbed for the devices and I let them go sending him stumbling backwards. It was physics not intent that caused him to fall. This just made him angrier. He took the devices into our kitchen and placed them on our son's table and then went out to the porch for a cigarette, an unfiltered diatribe flowed between each drag.
He sounded distant in my mind. I was still in the kitchen, my eyes focused on the phone. I discreetly picked it up, placed it with my phone in my left hand, and began to head towards the front door of the apartment.
There is so much clarity in hindsight. I should have never gone back alone. I should have never tried to take his phone and laptop. Should have, could have, would have...truly means absolutely nothing in the reality's end.
He came from behind, dragging me back into the kitchen of our small apartment. I felt like a dog toy being slammed back and forth between the counter that housed the dishwasher and the breakfast bar. But what I remember most is that I simply could not get out of his grip. I can still hear my screaming like an out of body experience...as if I was a spectator in my own life and possible death.
"Help!"
"Let me go!"
The knock had startled us both and I was able to get lose enough from his grip to reach the door. As I pulled it open, he was pushing it shut his arms and legs wrapped around me like a constricting snake around it's prey. And there standing in the door way was our neighbor with his hand gun drawn down.
He said clearly and firmly, "Let her go now!"
And my ex said "NO!"
The weight of the word "NO" had never felt so heavy and final.
The neighbor asked again, "LET HER GO NOW!"
I still believe it is in that moment my ex saw the gun. I felt his grip release. I stood frozen, like a deer in headlights. My neighbor said, "RUN! GO! Get out of here!" Whatever spell I was under broke and I ran to my car, my ex's phone still in my left hand. Once inside the vehicle a little voice from the back seat said, "Mommy, are you okay? Mommy, I could hear you screaming!"
I could not stop shaking. I still had his phone. I drove to a safe parking lot and called a friend. We briefly discussed how I could return the phone and decided the best decision would be to take it to the closest local substation and ask an officer to drop it off during a welfare check. I was collected enough to begin driving again. It was while en route to the police that the phone rang...
Officer: "Mrs. Hobbins? This is Officer Cruz. Where are you?"
Me: "Please don't make me go back. I will return the phone. Just don't make me go back. I am scared."
Officer: "Mrs. Hobbins, this is not about your husband. Your neighbor called. They are worried about the safety of yourself and your son. Where are you?"
I pulled into the closest parking lot and gave the officer my location. Minutes later she arrived. What happened next still feels surreal. She advised me that it didn't matter what I said, there was enough evidence for my ex to be arrested and he would be. I fell into her arms, tears streaming down my face.
"I'll tell you everything. My life is a shit show and I just want off this ride."
She took my statement, explained the mandatory protection order and the process for a permanent order. She checked me for injuries and took pictures of my bruise marked body and my phone's texts for evidence. I was bruised on my left side from my upper arm to my ankle. The police report states I continued to complain of pain in my ribs and left arm, but refused medical attention at that time.
The next day I could hardly use my left arm and hand. I finally went to the hospital. It would be the beginning of a process to repair my arm that is still not completely healed 19 months later. Two surgeries, 7 scars, nerve damage, intermittent paralysis...
I never thought my ex husband would lay his hands on me. Yell...yes. Name call...absolutely. Break things...consistently. But physically harm my body...NEVER. One would think this would be cause to part ways and never, ever, under any circumstances look back...
...But it would be 13 more months to the day before I left for good.
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