I open my eyes only to realize I am flat on my back on the floor of my Watercolor home in the exclusive 30A enclave of Florida’s gulf coast. I slowly reach up with my left hand and touch my left ear; it is bleeding. I am bleeding.

The pain is so palpable that I can only concentrate on the pain. My head is literally spinning from what I will later learn is a serious concussion along with a severe neck sprain caused by a closed-fisted punch to my ear and neck that was so powerful it knocked me unconscious and off my feet where I fell onto the waiting floor. Those dark mahogany-stained planks of the finest wood meant to absorb the comings and goings of those invited to be a part of our lives, we began together almost four years ago, now absorb my tears as they silently fall.

My left arm is numb as is my mind, and I can’t really feel anything even though I am still holding my ear, cradling it. I am on the floor by the fireplace and its shelves, the ones I so lovingly pulled together with pictures of our lives entangled, with autographed books by famous authors that now hold up candles ensconced in decorative lanterns meant to figuratively light the way back home.

I look to my left and see the Heidi Daus designed tear-drop stone earring of moss green I was wearing that matched my dress, that matched my eyes; it is now on the floor about six inches from my head…smashed and damaged and on its back, just like me.

I turn my head and look up to see my husband standing over me. His eyes are wild as if he is looking straight through me, as if I wasn’t there, as if he didn’t want me there.

I am crying in such disbelief as I slowly begin to realize what happened. I am still on the floor as I watch him look at me with a blank stare, turn around and walk up the stairs to our bedroom, leaving me discarded where I lay like one of his dishcloths dropped in haste with no reason to bend over, pick it up and place it back on the counter.

He doesn’t bend down and cradle me in his arms to tell me he is sorry, to beg me for forgiveness. There was no attempt to help me up, no words to inquire if I am ok. I think of these things as I lay there in our home, alone and injured.

I eventually find the where with all to slowly make my way up off the floor. Using the fireplace to brace my moves, I begin to understand the severity of my injury. I am dizzy and off-balance and my left arm is numb. But it is the pain in my head and my neck that fuel me to do what I do next.

I find my phone and capture my image and the time, 10:21 on 10-22-20. It pains me to look back at this photo. Of the tears staining my cheeks, the hollowness of my eyes. My hair appears wet; I wear the disbelief of a victim coming to terms with the truth. It is now my truth and I make a split decision on where I go from here. And I never look back...until now.