I’m Broken – Part 2

by Kris

The day I was being released from hospital I was well enough to make a heartbreaking phone call to my Mom, telling her what I had been told that had happened. We were both dumbfounded.

Later on that morning, armed with my booklet on concussion, I was accompanied by a police support officer.

The first place to go was to the agency the flat was rented from. I needed a key to gain entry to the flat. As I entered the office, I was glared at by the Lettings Manager. “We’ve heard what happened, it’s unacceptable behaviour by a tenant! The landlords want you out! An eviction notice will be in the post”.

“I’m being evicted because my partner tried to murder me?”

I removed my baseball cap, lowered my head revealing the stitches to the wound on my scalp. Without hesitation “Yes!” was hissed at me.

I was taken to that flat by the police officer. I was let in first. I had no emotions. I stared blankly at the blood marks on the walls and floor of the entrance hall inside. “Do you remember anything?” The officer asked.


“Open the bedroom door.”

The blood splattered above the bed caused no reaction from me. Neither did the sight of the blood markings on the carpet at the side of the bed where I fell and the blows continued to my body. The officer sat talking with me for a short while.

I was informed that a security firm would be calling round later on to improve the security to the flat. The officer left. I called my Mom, we talked about what the police had said.

There was a knock at the door. It was the security firm. Within a matter of minutes alarms were placed on the doors and windows, a security chain for the door, and a pocket alarm for myself.

The workman left, leaving The Black Dog with me, slowly walking around that flat, scanning the place for details. There was movement outside the front door. Clutching my alarm, panic shot through my body.

Fight or flight!?!?

A deep breath, I opened the door hard and fast. “Shit!!!” The word hung there for a moment, then “I have NEVER been SO happy to see someone!” It was my neighbour.

He told me of that night. What he witnessed. The moment that when he was giving his statement to the police and the call came in that I nearly became a murder case. I listened to his words. Nothing made sense. The Black Dog started to distract me for it’s attention.

I thanked my neighbour for his help. I went back in to that flat. Put on my jacket, wallet and keys. I made my way to the off licence. Absolute was to become an ironic brand name that I would slowly be consumed by.

Maybe it was the alcohol that relaxed me that began a slow process of the downward spiral. Fragments started to filtrate my mind. Sirens shot past that flat. Fear shot through me.

Another phone call to my Mom.

I spoke of my conversation with the neighbour. We were both horrified over the words I was speaking. How was any of this possible?


I went to the bed room, still no response from the blood stains. I lay there, turned off the lights. The Black Dog started to howl. I turned the lights on again, The Black Dog went quiet. The hours slowly ebbed away.

Then it was 8am. I dressed, but on my jacket, and headed out of that flat. I made my way to the GP surgery. “I need to see a Doctor”

“Is it an emergency?”

I showed the receptionist the wound to my head. The Dr saw me before the surgery had even started. My medical notes had already been updated by the hospital. The Dr was in shock. I was told to report back to the surgery everyday or the rest of the week.

I was given a counselling referral, a referral to Mental Health Crisis Team, emergency out of hours contact numbers including the Samaritans. I left the surgery.

The Black Dog was waiting patiently at the door.

The off-licence was opposite the surgery.


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