“I’m going to kill you,” he said as he stumbled over a pair of shoes on the floor. I had gone to bed early that night, crying myself to sleep, realizing that once again he wasn’t coming home after work. The night-life called him often. The alcohol drew on his affections all too frequently.
I spent many nights alone wondering with whom he was out, and if he would come home drunk — a happy mushy romantic drunk, or violently angry. My husband had just come home from serving in Vietnam right before we were married. Often when he would drink he would see himself back in Vietnam.
So many nights after I had cleaned the house all day and fixed his favorite meal, I would eat alone and go to bed confused, lonely, and not knowing what to do. But tonight was different. I had prayed before I went to bed. I felt safe. Somehow God reassured this frightened young woman that He was right there with me.
Until I heard the door slam and the bedroom light came on. I knew then that my husband was extremely drunk. He grabbed his gun. Pointing it at my head he pulled the trigger. Terrorized, I instinctively pulled the sheet up over my head, as if somehow it would protect me from the deathblow of the bullets…
That night is the beginning of Bullet Proof Sheets & Exhausted Angels. The rest of the story is in the book.