Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would black out and wake up sore. My husband just laughed and said I was out of shape. After the fourth trip, I hid a voice recorder in my purse — and that night I heard a phone call that made me realize the blackouts had never been accidents.

It was four words.

Vonda’s already there.

Who is Vonda?
PART 2

I did two things in the next thirty-six hours and I did them in the right order, and I want to put that down because I have been told since by four separate people that most people get it wrong.

I did not confront him.

I did not wake that man up at one in the morning and play him his own voice. I did not pack a bag. I did not throw a telephone at anybody.

I got back into that bed at about half past two and I lay next to him until six, which is the single hardest thing I have ever done.

On the Monday morning I rang the office and said I was unwell, which was true.

And then I drove to a hospital eleven miles outside my own neighbourhood, where I know nobody and nobody knows my husband’s family.