It was sudden. The flat-handed slap twisted the woman’s neck. Never before had she been so stunned. Pain, fear, too scared to run, she spit out fatal words.  Wrong move. She was all over the room, bounced off the coffee table, slammed against the bedroom doorframe, down on her bruised face with him astride her back, pounding—pounding—would the pounding ever stop?

Lord, I’m coming home was born in the panic of a blank mind.

The divorce came quickly. A few months later, they married again. Again, and again, she married him. Each time the divorce involved physical abuse. She believed he was out of control.

Southern born and bred, he believed it was verbal abuse from the Northern born and bred woman. And it was up to him to teach her his ways.

Why the couple could not let go was a question they could not answer. Surely God must have joined them together, as it was said what God had joined together, no man could part.

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