Chapter 2
“I had an image of blood splattered up the walls around my bed.”
That was the text message that I sent my mother. I am bipolar. I actually saw that blood when I was awake and it felt like real life but it had not happened yet. That was just two weeks before I was stabbed in my bedroom. I sent it to my mother and took a screenshot of it. I thought maybe it was a hallucination at the time. That I was in a state of manic and only saw it because I was exhibiting the symptoms of a squirrel hoarding for winter at the time. I was having difficulty sleeping again and I had insomnia. Later, when I was laying down in a pool of my own blood, looking at the police officer above me, I realized that it was actually a premonition as I looked passed him and at my blood splattered on the walls around my bed. I missed the warning from the spirits again. I felt it and I wanted to flee but events didn’t line up for me. It was a cold winter night on New Year’s Eve and I wanted to leave my home but I had no vehicle anymore. I had a stroller but it was a lot of work to pack up children to go on a cold evening stroll when nothing was open for children anymore. So I called my mother. She didn’t answer. She was busy enjoying her New Year’s Eve with her partner; as she should have been doing. It went to voicemail.
I missed his phone call 22 minutes before he arrived. The last phone call that I had with him prior to that missed call was so upsetting that I simply ignored his last call. I let him know that we had been separated for half a year now and that I would be applying for a divorce in the new year. I did not think it would affect him, since we had already been separated for so long. He called me from the same residence that the police found him at after I was stabbed. He was arrested on January 1st.
Later when evidence was being collected by the RCMP, a man that I believed to be a corrupt officer tried to tell me on the phone that they found a shovel in my living room. He tried to place blame on me. He said that I left a shovel on my deck and that my attacker used it to break the living room window. When he said this, I knew he was absolutely wrong, so I replied with half the facts. I let him know that I had nothing on my deck, especially not a shovel because I stored those inside, ever since my neighbour stole our last one the winter before. What I did not tell the officer was that I personally watched my attcker from my balcony run up the stairs and pull a weight lifting bar from his jacket. I personally saw him grasp one end of it by the black handle. I saw him arch it over his head, thrust it back high in the air and smash it down upon my window. I was on the phone already calling the RCMP dispatch as it was happening. I instantly heard the glass shatter. The same sound I had heard when he shattered it weeks before on December 18th. I saw that same bar many times dangling from an old clunky workout bench in the back yard of my old neighborhood. It came from the same home he called me from and the same home he fled to. That is why I knew exactly where he was after he stabbed me and I was right. Yet, despite seeing that he planned that attack, that he brought that bar to smash my window, I did not tell the officer. It is hard to trust an officer who writes his notes in an 8 by 11 Hilroy coiled notebook. Any fool knows that he gets to tear out the evidence as he sees fit. So when he tried to plant words in my mouth and say that he found a shovel I had left, I objected to it. I just couldn’t tell him that I knew exactly what was really used to smash the window. That was caused by the fear that my ex-husband was not the only person I had upset. I felt like some of the officers deliberately left the accomplices out of the equation to keep me in fear. So, I would be silent about certain things I saw. I have to admit that it worked for a time. Although, when you know your time is running out, eventually you do not care anymore, and you finally tell your truth.
