### Chapter 6 — Planning My Escape
Southern Roots — My Story
### The Day I Took My Life Back
By the time I was thirty-nine years old, I had finally reached my breaking point.
After nearly fifteen years of living in an abusive marriage, I knew that if I didn't find a way out, I might never have another chance.
I had tried leaving before. Three or four times, in fact. But every time, I ended up going back because I had nowhere else to go.
This time had to be different.
This time, I needed a plan.
My husband and I had a joint checking account, so fortunately, I had access to some money. That was one obstacle I wouldn't have to worry quite as much about.
He had also bought me a computer, and while he was away driving his semi truck, I spent time playing games on a website called Pogo.com.
Little did I know that something as simple as playing games online would eventually open a door to my freedom.
It was there that I met a man who lived in Tucson, Arizona.
We began talking, and over the course of several weeks, we got to know one another. Eventually, I told him what was happening in my marriage.
I told him about the abuse.
The control.
The fear.
And how desperately I wanted to escape.
I had only been talking to him for about a month when I finally told him that I needed to get away.
His answer was simple.
"Come here."
Two little words.
At the time, those words meant everything to me.
Here was someone offering me a place to go when I felt as though I had nowhere else in the world to turn.
I didn't know what my future in Tucson would look like. I didn't know whether things would work out with this man or whether I was making another mistake.
But I knew I couldn't continue living the life I had been living.
And so, I began preparing to leave.
### The Bank — My First Step Toward Freedom
The day I finally left North Carolina is a day I will never forget.
My husband was away on the road driving his truck, and I knew this was my opportunity.
I had to act while he was gone.
I went to the bank where we had our joint checking account.
I remember speaking to the woman who worked there and explaining my situation.
I told her I was leaving an abusive marriage and that I was afraid for my safety.
She listened.
And instead of judging me or questioning my decision, she offered to help.
"Okay, I can help you," she told me. "And don't worry, I'll keep everything to myself."
I could tell that she was frightened for me.
She understood that I wasn't simply leaving an unhappy marriage.
I was trying to escape a situation where I feared for my life.
I withdrew more than half of the money in our checking account.
I could have taken every penny.
But I didn't.
Even after everything I had been through, I chose not to empty the account completely.
With money in hand, I left the bank and prepared to begin the longest, most frightening drive of my life.
I filled my car with gas.
I gathered what I could take.
And I made sure my little dog was with me.
There was no way I was leaving my dog behind.
Whatever lay ahead of us, we were going to face it together.
Then I got behind the wheel.
And I drove away.
### The Phone Call That Nearly Stopped Me
As I began driving from Richmond County toward Anson County, my phone rang.
It was my husband.
My heart must have felt as though it was going to jump right out of my chest.
He wanted to know what I was doing.
I needed an explanation, and I needed one quickly.
I told him my father had called and that I had to go.
He didn't believe me.
"I don't believe you," he said.
"Call him," I answered.
But there was one problem.
My father didn't know anything about the explanation I had just given.
So I called him.
I told my dad what was happening.
"Look," I said, "I'm leaving. You need to cover for me."
I needed him to help me buy enough time to get farther away.
I was terrified that my husband would discover what I was doing before I had put enough miles between us.
And then the calls started.
Over and over again, my phone rang.
He kept calling.
I stopped answering.
I couldn't allow myself to get drawn into another conversation that might make me second-guess my decision.
I had done that too many times before.
This time, I had to keep going.
### Miles Between Me and My Past
As I drove farther south, every mile became important.
Every county line.
Every state line.
Every highway sign telling me I was getting farther away from North Carolina.
I was frightened, but I was also beginning to experience something I hadn't felt in years.
The possibility of freedom.
When I made my way through South Carolina and Georgia and eventually onto Interstate 10, I started feeling a little safer.
But only a little.
The fear was still there.
I kept thinking about what might happen if he found me.
What if he figured out where I was going?
What if he came after me?
What if I didn't make it?
I had spent so many years living under his control that even hundreds of miles away, I still felt as though he had power over me.
My phone continued ringing.
He left voicemail after voicemail until my mailbox was full.
Some of those messages were meant to make me feel guilty for leaving.
But something had changed inside me.
I wasn't going to let guilt turn me around.
Not this time.
I had given that marriage nearly fifteen years of my life.
I had given up my independence, my friendships, my confidence, and so much of the woman I once was.
I wasn't going to give up my chance at freedom, too.
### Driving Through Fear and Exhaustion
By the time I reached Louisiana, exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.
I had been driving for hours, running on nerves, adrenaline, and very little else.
I stopped for a few hours and tried to take a nap.
But sleep wouldn't come.
My body was exhausted, yet my mind wouldn't settle down.
I was still afraid.
I was still listening for my phone.
Still worrying that somehow my husband would find me.
I wasn't eating properly. I wasn't taking care of myself the way I should have.
I was stopping mainly to put gas in the car and then getting right back on the highway.
I was determined to reach Tucson.
As I continued west on Interstate 10, the miles began blending together.
Even today, I can only remember about half of that journey.
I remember being terrified.
I remember fighting sleep.
I remember becoming so exhausted that I was struggling to stay awake behind the wheel.
There were moments when I was actually falling asleep while driving.
Looking back, I realize how dangerous that was.
I had escaped one kind of danger only to put myself in another.
But at the time, fear was driving me almost as much as I was driving that car.
I was afraid to stop for too long.
Afraid to stay in one place.
Afraid that every minute I wasn't moving was another minute my husband might have to find me.
All I wanted was to get farther away.
Farther from North Carolina.
Farther from my marriage.
Farther from the woman I had become during those fifteen years.
I wanted to get somewhere I could finally breathe.
### An Unexpected Encounter Near El Paso
By the time I reached the El Paso area of Texas, I was exhausted, nervous, and still trying to concentrate on the road ahead.
Then something happened that I certainly hadn't planned for.
I approached what turned out to be a Border Patrol checkpoint.
Now, I wasn't familiar with that part of the country, and in my exhausted state, I thought I was approaching something like a truck scale house.
I didn't realize I was supposed to stop.
Before I knew what was happening, agents came running out.
"What are you doing? You need to stop!" they called.
I can only imagine what they must have thought.
Here I was, a frightened woman from North Carolina, driving across the country with her little dog, exhausted and trying desperately to get to Arizona.
I explained what was happening.
"Look," I told them, "I'm leaving an abusive relationship."
I told them I was trying to get away and reach Tucson.
They looked at my car and listened to my explanation.
Thankfully, they allowed me to continue.
"Okay," they told me, "but don't do that again."
I certainly had no intention of doing it again.
After that unexpected encounter, I got back on Interstate 10 and continued driving west.
Tucson was getting closer.
And so was the life I hoped was waiting for me.
### The Woman Behind the Wheel
There is something about that journey that stays with me, even after all these years.
I was a thirty-nine-year-old woman who had spent much of her life being afraid.
As a little girl, I had been afraid of my mother's anger.
As a young woman, I had been afraid of making the wrong choices.
And as a wife, I had spent nearly fifteen years afraid of the man who was supposed to love and protect me.
But there I was.
Driving across the country.
With my little dog beside me, some money in my possession, and everything I could manage to bring along.
I didn't have a guarantee that life would be better in Arizona.
I didn't know whether the man waiting for me in Tucson would turn out to be someone I could trust.
I didn't even know what I was going to do once I got there.
But for the first time in years, the decisions were mine.
I decided where to drive.
I decided when to stop.
I decided which direction my life was going to take.
And even though I was scared out of my mind, I was doing something I hadn't been able to do for a very long time.
I was choosing myself.
The highway stretched out ahead of me, mile after mile, beneath that enormous Southwestern sky.
Somewhere behind me was a marriage that had nearly destroyed me.
Somewhere ahead was a future I couldn't yet imagine.
And somewhere inside that frightened, exhausted woman was the little Southern girl who had once dreamed of getting her driver's license so she could experience a taste of freedom.
Only now, the stakes were so much higher.
I wasn't just driving away from home for a few hours.
I was driving away from fifteen years of pain.
I wasn't running away from my life anymore. I was running toward the chance to finally have one.
And as I continued west toward Tucson, I knew one thing for certain.
Whatever happened next, I wasn't turning around.