Pt 3: I hoped Maroula wouldn’t turn out the same way, but worried that she would.

The paramedics arrived, and began checking her vitals and asking about allergies… “Chocolate and nuts. I know. Isn’t it terrible!”

Through the window I watched two officers put a bearded man into the backseat of a cruiser.

Bobby Loop did follow his wife. He sat crouched in a bush at the edge of the parking lot, just beyond the lights of the Quickie Mart. Waiting. The boys in blue picked him up beating hard through an empty field behind the convenience store. He still had his gun, and that look of cowardice most men like him wear when confronted by anyone who’s not a woman.

One of the officers told Maroula “It’s all ok, you don’t have to worry anymore” and looked at Jean like she was crazy when she pushed him out of the way and grabbed the girl by her shoulders.

“No! It ain’t OK. When he comes back and tells you he’s sorry and he loves you, and he will…they always do… don’t listen. Don’t listen cause when you do, he’ll kill you. He’ll kill you and he’ll put you in that pond just like he said he would. He’ll do it and you and me both know he’ll do it…You go back to your family. You hear me?”

Maroula nodded that she did. She promised she’d go home to her mother and the officer promised he’d do what he could to help her.

It was after 2am when I left the Quickie Mart. When I said goodbye to Jean and checked the back seat of my car for hidden hillbillies. A mile down the road I drove past the pond and it’s blackness.

I couldn’t help but think of what almost was. What could have been.

And what still, might be.

This is a true story. Only the names have been changed. Maroula was taken to a battered women’s shelter. Bobby Loop was taken to the local. I’ll get an email when he gets out.

Don’t be a victim. If you, or anyone you know, suffer from this type of pervasive abuse, call The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) .