Iwas stunned when it happened. Since the day we married, I had been his verbal punching bag — insults about my faith, my body, my job, and everything in between were constant. But this was the first time my husband put his hands on me.

My crime? After enduring a month of the silent treatment, I finally found the courage to ask, “Do you love me?” He snapped, and all 6’4”, 260 pounds of him charged toward me, pushing me so hard that I stumbled backward and out of our family room. When I regained my footing, I looked up at him — a head taller and a hundred pounds heavier — and said I was done being silent about his abuse.

I said, 'This is the worst day of my life. I need you.' He looked at me and said, 'No, the worst day of your life was marrying me.'

In hindsight, it wasn’t a safe move, b

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