Collin did go back to counseling, and it seemed to be working. I think maybe that first year he just had too many transitions going on at one time. I wondered if he was bipolar. I also wondered if he was doing drugs now, since he was definitely starting to act like a cokehead. I didn't ask him about either one, though. I never saw any medication around that would indicate that he was bipolar, but then again he could have easily just have not been on any meds. And as far as I could see since we moved in together, Collin had gone totally legit. He didn't have the usual arsenal at his house, only a few personal guns, and I never saw any drugs around...which was good because Collin was really starting to stress me out again.

Especially when it came to things like handling the baby. He would do crazy stuff like pretend he was going to drop her, or throw her way up in the air and catch her. The baby loved it and would laugh like she was having the time of her life. Crazy just like her daddy. He would laugh, too, but it was a different kind of laugh. He would laugh at the horrified look on my face every time I saw my baby's life flash before my eyes. He would just look dead into my eyes, with my baby in his arms and laugh like "Yeah bitch. Don't cross me."

Eventually, somewhere around the baby's first birthday, Collin stopped coming home some nights. And not sporadically, either. It was like every Tuesday and Saturday he just wouldn't show up until the next morning. I didn't say anything about that, either. Let that bitch have her days with him. We had too much going on over here anyway, so by the time it started happening, it felt more like a nice break than a betrayal.

I even started planning little outings for my daughter and I to do on those days. Like it was our special time together. One of those nights, I was just walking through the front door, trying to juggle the baby, my keys, the stroller and the diaper bag all at the same time. I didn't even notice Collin sitting on the couch glaring at me until I turned my back to lock the door and turned on the light.

"Took my baby to see Kenney?"

My blood ran cold and I actually prayed. But the prayer was irrational, and as soon as I heard myself whisper "Please God, don't let that be Collin sitting there," I knew that I had finally lost my marbles, too. Poor kid. Two bat crazy parents. She didn't have a chance.

I turned around slowly, and I guess I was either hoping that he would have evaporated by the time I turned all the way around, or that it was just a ghost sitting there – which at that point would have been a far better thing to deal with than Collin right then – because I was shocked as shit when I finally looked over at the couch and saw Collin...chillin'.

I was so startled, I kid you not, I almost dropped the baby.

"Holy shit Collin! What are you doing here?"

I said it before I even thought about it and knew immediately that it was the exact wrong thing to a. not answer his question right away, and b. to act like I only went out because I knew he wouldn't be home. Collin jumped off of the couch before the whole question could come out of my mouth and charged me. For some reason I put the baby, who was just learning how to stand up, down and whispered, "Run."

Collin kind of missed a step and almost laughed at what I had just done, but it was like right after that he forgot that he was laughing and took me down to the ground by my waist. Then he opened my legs with his knees and got in between them, wrapping his hands around my throat.

"Is that what you were doing, you trifling bitch? Taking my daughter to see her real father? You fucking whore!" He just kept shouting that and tightened his grip on my throat. The baby started screaming and I saw her trying to crawl over to us. I shook my head at her like she would understand me, signaling for her to stay away. "Look at me, not that fucking baby, bitch. I knew she wasn't mine! I knew it! Trifling," he slammed his knee up in between my legs like he was trying to break my vagina to keep me from having any more babies, "whore!"

"No, Kenney!" I felt all of the blood drain out of my face when I realized that I had just called Collin the wrong name. The for real, for real wrong name. "Collin, I mean Collin! I'm so sorry. I meant C..." He squeezed off my air to keep me from saying anything else stupid, and then rammed his knee up into me again. I clawed at his hands and then realized that the keys were laying on the floor next to me where I had dropped them right before the takedown.

I picked the keys up and dragged them across his face. He grabbed at his jaw in shock, and when he shifted his weight I kneed him in the crotch because he was the one with the balls. Then he fell over off of me and grabbed himself.

"I'm going to kill you," he growled and struggled to get up.

I grabbed the baby and instead of running out the backdoor like anyone with half a brain would have done, I ran into the bedroom and locked the door.

I could hear him charge it not even thirty seconds after I locked it, and try to break it down. He charged it again, and then started kicking it. He was relentless with it and wouldn't back off. It was like he had lost his mind.

The baby started crying again and I picked up the phone, without even thinking twice, and dialed 9-1-1.

"Help me! Help!" I know they could hear the baby screaming. I screamed our address and then dropped the phone and ran into the bathroom and locked that door behind us, too. Thank God Collin used to be extra paranoid back in his gun running days. Every single door in the house had reinforced locks. Even the closets. My apartment had them, too.

"Natasha, I'm going to kill you!" was all Collin kept barking and I totally lost it. I sat down on the floor and started screaming myself, which made the baby scream even louder. It sounded like Collin had rabies and had lost his damn mind.

It didn't take long for the police to get there, and I was so terrified that I wouldn't open the bathroom door when they banged on it. I just kept screaming like I had lost it right along with Collin, and didn't stop until they broke the door in.

One officer took the baby out of my arms, and the other helped me up off the floor. When they led us out into the bedroom and I saw Collin on his knees in handcuffs, face bleeding like a tiger had clawed him, I calmed down immediately and thought Holy shit, what have I done?

I didn't know what Collin had stashed in that house, I didn't know if I would be the one to go to jail since he was the one who was bleeding. I felt an all too familiar loss of breath and fell to my knees in front of him.

"Collin, I'm so sorry." I knew better than to call the police on him. I knew better.

He looked up and kind of bared his teeth at me, and then spat blood into my face. The officer that was holding him by his handcuffs yanked him roughly up off of the ground and jerked the cuffs back to make his arms bend at an impossible angel.

"Ma'am, do you want to press charges?"

I shook my head silently.

"Sir, do you want to press charges?" Collin just started at me like I was dead meat and spat more blood onto the carpet.

"No."

The cop who was holding my baby looked at me for a really long time, and then exchanged a glance with his partner before handing her back to me. Then the police walked Collin outside and I watched from the doorway as they patted him down and shoved him into the back of the police car.

After coming back over to me and asking what happened – I said that we had just had a small argument and that I made a mistake calling them – they walked back over to Collin. I saw him stare at them, eyes on fire, and spit more blood onto the ground at their feet. But he never spoke to them. Then he faced back toward the front and glared out of the windshield, waiting for them to drive him away. The police told me that they weren't taking him to jail, that they were taking him somewhere to cool off for a few days, and that if he came back before then, to call them immediately.

They knew that I wouldn't call them again, though, and I hoped Collin also knew that I wouldn't. I said a silent prayer that the police wouldn't hurt him as they drove him away.