Samantha has been married to Matt for 10 years, she is just a few months shy of her 38th birthday, they live in a tiny unit in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Parents of two children, Stephen- ten and Jasmine- eight, there was little time for socialising, and no money for it either.

Marrying Matt soon after she arrived in New York from Australia Samantha was after an adventure holiday and, at first found it, visiting the sights all around the glorious city and, with her friend Lauren, they made many wonderful memories but towards the end of the adventure Samantha met the charming Matt, he stole her naive heart, which she had laid bare to him; her proper first love.

Samantha stayed, Lauren left; her homeland calling her.

Samantha married and settled into the New Yorker Lifestyle. Matt had a steady job, which paid reasonably well and wanted his wife to stay home and look after the house. That request to stay home should have been an early warning sign in the current age of women's independence but Samantha was smitten and 10 months later Stephen was born, a dark hair brown eyed bundle of bouncing baby boy.

He was her life, she made sure his upbringing was full of love, fun and, of course, adventure.

Matt was pleased with his new boy but didn't like Sam taking him to the local park for strolls or playground adventures. Matt only liked Samantha going out with him. And yet again she missed a warning sign.

Jasmine arrived next. Two years younger than Stephen, she had flaming red hair, the type that made you turn and want to touch it, and lots of grandmas at the local shops ooh-ed and ahh-ed over her glossy red locks. Her hair colour was not Samantha's, and Matt's was a dark auburn, although red would shine through his whiskers in the sunlight; no her hair was a skipping of generations... Sam's mum was a red head so down the line it came.

The park was rarely visited, as mentioned Matt never made the time to take them, and the supermarket... it was a trip to be taken on a Saturday, with Matt.

Sam's Matt drank regularly, but gradually it became painfully obvious to her, that it was taking over his life. He was a nasty drunk often coming home from the local pub bleeding and hurt, his big mouth getting him into all sorts of blues. And, if he couldn't beat up the bloke down the pub, he most certainly knew he could beat up the wife at home. Taking his anger out on her weekly and, if it was a particularly bad week, daily.

We all know you shouldn't stay, shouldn't take this crap. Should walk. Should stand up for yourself don't we.

All very well for the person on the street to say the above but when you have two young children, no job, no money, no support network....

Yes, ok she was naïve, but remember, she was in love and that should have been all that mattered.

NO ONE deserves that treatment, no one!

She put up with it.

Black eyes were common although as Stephen started school the bashings were now covert affairs. Long sleeves were now the norm, her face blemish free, her body though, hidden under the layers, was black and blue... and mustard yellow... if they had the chance to fade.

Cigarette burns to the shoulders, collarbone and back of the arm were nasty and hard to heal.

And of course, words left no visible scars...

But the emotional toll of words was just as nasty. Words were delivered to harm and belittle. She felt useless, she felt defeated.

Stephen and Jasmine never knew, they were usually asleep or at school. Their hugs got her through the day and the thought of them held her resolve through the night. She kept with Matt because he was their dad and that's what's supposed to happen.

Mummy and Daddy.

Happy families.

************

The 8th of December 1980 was the start of a new week.

A Monday, the children were off to school and Matt leaving to go to work. Necessary housework was completed, laundry washed, dried, pressed and put away. A meal prepared and ready for when Matt got home.

He didn't come home at six, nor seven that evening.

Samantha bathed the children, put them in their bedclothes and was just finished reading them a bedtime story; they were tired but not asleep. They lingered awake, sleepy eyes and yawns a plenty. They were determined to say good night to their daddy.

The door slammed, so hard it was a miracle it didn't fall clean off. The table was drunkenly careened into. In response he shoved the offending furniture across the room, Matt's fury slamming the table so hard, it crunched into the refrigerator.

Matt was home, and Matt was drunk.

Matt wanted his dinner NOW.

I won't go into the dialogue of the night unfortunately you know what is going to happen but, unlike all those previous nights, tonight, two eyewitnesses to the crime would be present.

Two sets of innocent eyes would see what Samantha never ever wanted them to see.

Two sets of eyes would shed silent tears and shelter in the dark of their room.

Two sets of eyes would never see their daddy in the same light again.

Perhaps in one way it was good, if you can see how good can come out of badness.

Good, that Sam saw, through her children's eyes, what she didn't want them to ever see.

She saw her life being taken, however slowly, from her.

She saw her pain radiating in their eyes.

She saw every mark on her skin, touching and gouging their souls.

She set about getting out, saving herself, but more importantly saving them, her children, from witnessing horrible things that no child should have to endure.