Our marriage was on the verge of ending when my husband took me to a hill station. Smiling cruelly, he said my insurance money would make him free, then pushed my wheelchair downhill. The next morning, his laughter disappeared after a call revealed the entire incident had been caught on camera.

The deafening sound of the automatic rifle shots echoed violently through the main hallway of the house.

Claire shrieked in absolute terror and dove frantically behind a heavy oak bookshelf to avoid the flying bullets.

Marcus dropped the heavy weapon and fell to his knees, clawing frantically at his burning, watering eyes.

I gripped the metal wheels of my chair and pushed forward with every single ounce of strength I had left.

I rolled desperately out the open front door and plunged directly into the freezing, heavy nighttime rain.

My specialized handicap-accessible van was parked at the very edge of the long, gravel driveway near the main road.

I ignored the severe, burning pain in my exhausted arms and pushed myself faster through the thick, wet mud.

I hit the remote unlock button on my keychain, and the mechanical side ramp slowly began to lower to the ground.

I heard Claire screaming my name furiously from the front porch of the dark, imposing house behind me.

She was now awkwardly holding the dropped rifle, aiming it unsteadily into the dark, rainy night.

I scrambled up the wet metal ramp and threw my body aggressively into the driver's seat of the van.

I quickly engaged the specialized, customized hand controls for the gas and the brake pedals on the steering column.

A stray bullet shattered the passenger side window just as I slammed the hand accelerator all the way down.

The heavy van skidded dangerously on the wet gravel before finally catching traction and speeding away into the dark.

I drove recklessly into the pitch-black night, my heart hammering violently against my bruised ribs.

I desperately needed to get to the heavily guarded FBI field office located downtown before they could track my vehicle.

I drove frantically for thirty minutes, constantly checking my cracked rearview mirror for any pursuing headlights.

I finally pulled into the brightly lit, secure parking lot of the federal building and slammed on the brakes.

I laid my heavy head against the steering wheel, crying genuine tears of sheer relief and overwhelming exhaustion.

I opened my car door to call out for the armed security guards standing near the brightly lit front entrance.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

But as I turned my head, a cold, hard metal barrel pressed firmly against the back of my neck.

Daniel was sitting quietly in the backseat of my van, dripping wet and smiling with pure malice.

Chapter 7 - The Desperate Escape