I left my marriage in one violent moment and never went back. We were living in a small town in Ireland then, and my husband had been spiralling for days ' drinking, raging, barely sleeping. I came home from the shop with our baby and found him waiting in the bedroom with one of his hunting rifles, convinced I was betraying him. The sound of that empty click when he pulled the trigger still lives in my head. I ran. He came after me. I don't remember deciding to fight ' only that I picked up what was closest, struck once, grabbed my child and fled. I drove to my mother's house shaking so hard I could barely hold the wheel. I didn't even realise how badly hurt I was until she saw me. I hid for months after that. And even now, part of me still listens for his footsteps.