ummmmm. Always looking for a great opening hook. Keep 'em coming.

He'd always had the perfect golf grip. The one he used on the gun wasn't bad, either. Yet the look in his eyes told me that this time he wasn't playing. The man standing in front of the window, anxiously peering behind the curtain to check for the arrival of my mother with our two children had instantly turned into a stranger. He was now someone I no longer recognized. Had it only been just over an hour ago that we had sat across the dinner table from each other laughing over the days events? This man, my husband, had given up a chance to play a round of golf, his greatest passion, to spend the day with his family. When the change in his demeaner first began to change, I was not sure. It was just obvious now that the person on the other end of that phone call he had gotten had angered him enough to get the gun out. Seeing the rage in his eyes as he glared back at me after gettiing off the phone I then understood. It had been just this past week that he had learned that his trusted golf buddy claimed he love me. The few times that we had gone out before I met and married the one and only true love of my life did not mean anything to me, et my love would not belielve me. It seemed like his buddy would have seen his jealous nature and known to quit kidding around about it. I had never liked having a gun in the house. This was more because of the children, though. I never expected that it would end up in his hand, pointed at me.
The sound of my own cell phone ringing made me jump, I quickly looked toward my husband turned kidnapper who gruffly commanded me to answer it. He didn't have to say anything else, raising the gun as he walked toward me told me all that I needed to know. To my relief, it was my mother. our two children had begged her to take them home with her after they had gone for ice cream. Ordinarily, I would have insisted that they come home. Now, things such as homework, showers, and getting to bed on time no longer mattered. Trying to sound natural, I assured my mother that it was ok. Could they spend the night,? She asked, expecting me to ask her to bring them home. Pausing briefly after I tried to casually say that was ok, she could tell something was wrong in my voice. Looking up, my husband was now standing only a few feet away from me. When she quietly asked if everything was ok, I faked a laugh as best I could and said "of course not", hoping that she could pick up on what was going on.
As I hung up the phone, I looked pleadingly into the eyes of this man I had exchanged wedding vows with over 15 years ago. Where had this man gone, I wondered to myself.
This was not the first time that he had pulled this gun out on me. However, it had been so many years since his illness had led to this type of behavior that I had managed to convince myself that as long as he continued to stay on his medicine that it wasn't likely to happen again. This time, though was more frightening than the first. The rage in his eyes showed no signs of beging to reside. What he did next happened so fast, I didn't realize what he was doing until I felt the pain shooting through my head, as he grabbed a wad of my hair and pulled me down the hall and into our bedroom. As he throw me down on the bed, I didnt know what was coming next, but I was thankful that the kids would not, at least be returning home to see any of this. Laying there trying to think of something I could say that would calm his rage down I glanced toward the bathroom, and saw his putter in the corner. For the first time I felt grateful that he never put things up like I had always wished he had. Could I get to the golf club and use it to help me? My thoughts were abruptly interupted by the sharp sting I felt when he stuck me across the face. he pushed the gun against my stomach and I held my breathe waiting for him to pull the trigger. This was followed by a period of silence. Right when I started to feel a slight surge of hope that this terror was about to come to an end, there was a loud sound. Certain that what I heard was the sound of the gun as he shot me, I looked down but didn't see any blood. Catching him off guard he ran to the window to look outside. What I did next was done without thinking. Jumping up, in a split second, I grabbed his golf club and swung at his head just as he started to turn away from the window. As he slumped to the ground, the bedroom door flew open by a police officer. It was then that it began to register with me what I had done. Although the officer could tell it was self-defense, it did little to relieve my guilt. What made the difference was my mother running in behind the officeer. I knew my mother and it would not have matter if she had been told to stay put and not come in the house. I knew that nothing would keep her from me if I was in any danger. It was obvious that she had been able to tell what was going on just by hearing a few words from me as she did on the phone. My mother knew me, and she knew me well enough to hear me when I can't say what I need to. She knew me well enough to do something when she knew I needed help..She also knew what I was thinking with me having to say a word. "The're fine. there with my neighbor.", addressing my concern for my children, who were now fatherless. She reached out, and as I began to cry she held me. She never left my side after we were told we'd have to leave the house since it was now a crime scene. I knew the police would have a lot of questions for me later. Nearly falling back into her arms once we were outside, I knew that whatever I would have to face in future, that I would not have to do it alone. I needed my mother as much on this day as a grown woman as much as I ever had. She was there for me also, every bit as much as she had always been.