She gave me information about protective orders, counseling and legal support, but she did not put a pen in my hand and demand a decision.

“What if he gets out?” I asked.

“Then we review the conditions of his release, update your safety plan and notify the people who need to know.

You will not have to handle that alone.”

I wanted to believe her.

But I had learned to question even promises made kindly.

By the time I was discharged, the apartment had been prepared.

It was above a row of small shops, with a narrow kitchen, a living room and two bedrooms.