Even now, when I look back on my marriage to Ben Rice I wonder how I could end up a victim of domestic violence. I came from a happy family with parents who loved and respected each other. My father never tried to bully my mother. No one ever shouted obscenities at each other. Maybe that’s one reason it took me so long to admit that I was being abused. I just kept telling myself that domestic violence happens to others – not to people like me. It turns out there is one thing “people like me” have in common. We don’t want to believe that someone we love would hit us. Like an alcoholic who finally faces her problem and takes responsibility for it, victims have to accept the fact the problem exists. We have to stop pretending. We have to stop wondering how we got here and figure out how to get away.