I had just gotten home from the hospital with a shattered femur when my mother-in-law kicked my crutches out from under me. I hi:t the hardwood floor screaming in agony, only for my husband to grab me by the throat and whisper, “Mom wants the master bedroom, so you’re sleeping in the garage.”

“County emergency dispatch,” a woman answered.

“My name is Mara Ellison,” I whispered. “I’m locked in my garage. My husband assaulted me. I have a shattered femur. I need police and medical help.”

The dispatcher’s voice sharpened.

“Are you in immediate danger?”

“Yes,” I said. “But they think I’m trapped.”

“Who are they?”

“My husband and his mother.”