The comfort of having my former husband behind bars, brought about my long wait for justice. But it also brought out a trait in me that I didn't know I possessed.
And even though I understood what I did was stupid - I enjoyed the emotion of retribution for more than a millisecond.
Three days after he was jailed, I drove to the mall on a chilly December morning, and saw red.
A few seconds earlier, there was no one in my rear view mirror. Then I saw a big pickup truck.
He was so close to my rear bumper that he might as well have been sitting in my back seat. I could see the whites of his eyes and his smug, toothy grin.
His dirty, scraggly blonde hair poked through the sides of his baseball hat - contrasting sharply against his bright blue football shirt. His thick neck muscles bulged with impatience.
He weaved in and out, trying to get by me. He tried to undertake me twice but the slippery grass verge on the inside prevented him doing so. His loud music filled the cool winter air.I was getting sick watching his pickup truck weave in and out. Then came a small gap in the traffic flow. He didn't hesitate. He passed over a double white line with minimal clearance gliding by my car. There was probably only inches between our vehicles.
That's where I made a mistake.
I jumped on my horn. I shouted "Asshole!" as he passed. I know he heard me.
The car in the opposite direction flashed his hi-beams as he barely scraped by. He stuck two fingers out his window in salute.
Two minutes later, as I turned into the mall parking lot, my hands shook. I kept reciting his numberplate out loud. I tried to remove my keys from the ignition, missing once.
His car appeared abruptly in front of me. Less than twenty feet away. He pointed at me with his fingers. In the shape of a gun. And then mock fired.
Revving his engine loudly, he sped away with white smoke billowing from his tyres.
He had definitely caught my registration plate. My car colour, make and model. Every part of me shivered.
Once I stepped inside the mall I rang the local Police station. I recalled the details ten minutes later to a young female Police officer. She said that they would follow it up straight away.
Returning to the car, I pulled flyers off my windscreen - I couldn't think of shopping. I threw them on the passenger seat. As I opened my home front door I picked the mail off the floor. Throwing all of the paraphernalia on the kitchen table, there wedged between two bills and a free newspaper, was a piece of blank white A4 paper.
Opening it up, I collapsed to my knees. The feeling of helplessness was returning after a brief sojurn.
"WATCH YOURSELF YOU COCKY BITCH! NEXT TIME I'LL PUT YOU IN HOSPITAL!"
I didn't sleep for two nights. My mind raced. My skin itched. I second guessed myself doing mundane everyday things. I lived alone. The lack of a home alarm in my new house didn't help with my new found insecurity. I became a curtain twitcher. Watching my back, checking my shadow.
A week passed and I had heard nothing from the Police. I even dropped into the station to see if the Police officer had anything new on my case - she didn't even remember me.The fact that she didn't seem bothered, re-lit a dampened fire in me. I had fought back once, on my own, and won. Despite the incompetence of others, I had persevered.
It was simple. Considering his supped up vehicle, most likely he hadn't bought it new. So I looked up his make and model on used car websites.
Playing the "I want to buy a big noisy pickup" line - I got the address of the current owner without breaking sweat. A sultry voice can work wonders.
With headway being made and vengeance in my veins, I parked my car out of sight and surveyed the suburban address. Within one hour, I spotted the same red Ford F-150 truck pull into its drive.
And there he was. The same jerk who had near shunted me with the same smug grin. With a few seconds of chauvinism and idiocy I almost went back into my shell. He clambered out of the driver's seat clutching a cardboard box of cheap domestic beer. He was nothing to be afraid of - if anything, he was to be pitied.
I waited for three hours before all the lights went out. The street went eerily quiet. A light breeze blew wisps of errant rubbish from over-filled bins. Wearing dark clothes, I crept low toward his house. Constantly checking around, I only heard the faint noise of a whining dog.Using the local foliage for cover and latex gloves for my own protection, I pulled a sharp blade from the pocket of my hoodie. I started slicing, cutting all four tyres beyond immediate repair. Air hissed slowly, like a release on both the rubber and my inner self.
I keyed the word "ASSHOLE" into the bonnet.
My final act was to write on the back of his note. I put it back through his letterbox, before I scurried back to my own car. I added my own veil of intent.
"LEARN TO DRIVE PROPERLY ASSHOLE. AND REMEMBER - I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE NOW."
