Fractured Tears: A Struggle for Justice: The Expanded Version

By Amy Shannon

Anna Coleman gave her husband one more chance for them to work on fixing what was wrong with their marriage. Ted used that chance to try to kill her. Anna didn’t give up or give in, she fought to survive, and she fought for justice, as it became a personal struggle. All she wanted was for the justice system to properly punish Ted for what he did to her, and it took a lot of strength, perseverance, and support.

Read how Anna struggles to fight for justice, and deal with her personal issues from having been betrayed and abused by her husband of 13 years.

This is a fictionalized version of the real life events of the Author.


Warning: This book contains scenes of domestic violence and may trigger PTSD or not be for some readers.

This is an expanded version and Fourth Edition. (The regular third edition is sold separately).

After releasing the Special Edition, I realized that the stories still need to be shared. So I’ve updated the Special Edition (which was available in November 2021 only) and only three print copies were made. I have added new information about my entire ordeal.

Names have been deleted or changed for privacy reasons.

This is both a fiction book based on real-life events and a nonfiction book that tells my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781387576531

Amy Shannon

Amy Shannon is an author, professional book reviewer and literary consultant. Amy is republishing and publishing some for the first time, her MOD Life Epic Saga, which has over 67 volumes, and 9 bonus books.

Book preview

Warning:

This book contains scenes of domestic violence and may trigger PTSD or not be for some readers.

About Amy Shannon

A storyteller, poet, editor, podcast host, and book reviewer.

Email: [e-mail]

Bio:

Amy Shannon is an American Storyteller, living in upstate New York, where she grew up. She shares the stories in her head by putting them on paper (virtual or real), and most of her stories focus on the strength of women.

Amy Shannon runs the book review website Amy's Bookshelf Reviews, which has become extremely popular for Indie authors and their books. She runs her own writer blog.

In 2004, Amy was a cancer survivor. In 2005, she survived a domestic violence assault, which resulted in her spouse going to prison, and lifelong migraine headaches.

Amy has four sons, who are very supportive of their family, and her passion. Amy went back to school in 2011, and since then has received her bachelor’s in English, master’s in Adult Education, and master’s in business administration.

Amy Shannon is also the co-host of the podcast The After Show with McKensie Stewart & Amy Shannon, which can be heard on Blog Talk Radio, iHeartRadio, amazon music, iTunes, Stitcher, and Tune-In.

Amy Shannon suffers from chronic daily migraines from her domestic violence assault. In the past two years, she had developed neurological movement disorders that include tremors that affect her hands and torso, leg spasms and muscle jerks, which affect her gait, sleep, and ability to be steady on her feet. She was recently diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, which provides her joints with constant pain. She still does work for authors, such as writing reviews, but also editing and other document services.

Amy’s entire portfolio is listed at https://essenceenterpriseus.com/portfolio

Amy’s business is listed as Essence Enterprises.

Introduction

Anna Coleman gave her husband one more chance for them to work on fixing what was wrong with their marriage. Ted used that chance to try to kill her. Anna didn’t give up or give in, she fought to survive, and she fought for justice, as it became a personal struggle. All she wanted was for the justice system to properly punish Ted for what he did to her, and it took a lot of strength, perseverance, and support.

Read how Anna struggles to fight for justice, and deal with her personal issues from having been betrayed and abused by her husband of 13 years.

This is a fictionalized version of the real-life events of the Author.

Warning: This book contains scenes of domestic violence and may trigger PTSD or not be for some readers.

This is an expanded version and Fourth Edition. (The regular third edition is sold separately). 

After releasing the Special Edition, I realized that the stories still need to be shared. So, I’ve updated the Special Edition (which was available in November 2021 only) and only three print copies were made. I have added new information about my entire ordeal.

Names have been deleted or changed for privacy reasons.

This is both a fiction book based on real life events and a nonfiction book that tells my story.

Author’s Note: As this is the expanded version, I share more of my story, in hopes that it will promote awareness and get more people the help and support that they need. I hope this story gets more conversations started, and when those who read it let me know how they feel about it, it does get conversations started, and I hope that if you read it, you share the story so you can also get conversations going.

There will never be a cure for domestic violence, but it doesn’t have to be permitted or hidden anymore. The justice system may never be fixed and doesn’t always serve justice to everyone. Because of my experience, I would never expect someone to just call the cops because of a situation. My first concern is to get to where you would be safe. Somewhere whoever is abusing you, (and it isn’t always physical), isn’t going to go looking for you. You are never alone. Sometimes you just don’t realize it. I didn’t.

No one ever truly knows how strong they are until a tragedy hits them unexpectedly.

This is Anna’s story.

Chapter One

Day 2

Anna stared at her reflection in the window, as the darkened sky streamed only a glimmer of moonlight through the splashing raindrops. She shuddered slightly at the sound of footsteps behind her. Yes, she said to her reflection, her eyes only meeting the woman’s eyes in the window.

I’m Talia. Talia Jeffers. I’m the hospital social worker, the woman explained. Number 16?

I guess, Anna shrugged, knowing as long as she remained in the hospital, she was private patient 16.

May I sit down?

I guess, Anna shrugged again, still not looking at the woman.

I came here to talk with you, Talia said. What are you looking at?

I’m trying to remember, she sighed.

You don’t remember what happened? Anna turned abruptly toward the woman and Talia stepped back, her eyes focused on the woman’s face.

Anna’s swollen face was completely covered in shades of blue, purple, black, and red, with a slight yellowing around her throat. "I remember that! I’m trying to remember what I looked like yesterday morning," she gulped heavily.

I’m sorry, Talia sighed. Are you even supposed to be out of bed?

I slid over to look out the window. Anna scooted herself from the chair over to the bed. She lifted her legs with her hands as she lay them on the bed. Why are you here?

As I said, I’m the social worker. I’m here to talk to you. You are probably feeling ashamed … she began her default social worker speech.

Anna put her hand up, Uh, stop. You don’t know how I’m feeling.

Talia patted Anna’s hand. Have you even cried yet? her tone emitted pity, annoying Anna, as it was a tone she was very well aware of especially in the last 12 hours of doctors, nurses, security officers, and whoever else in and out of her room.

I must say that I’m in a lot of pain, where I can actually feel, but no, I haven’t cried. Why should I? She pulled her hand back, holding it close to her. Please, don’t touch me. It wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t? Talia raised an eyebrow.

You think it was? Anna’s voice quivered slightly.

That’s not what I mean, Talia sighed heavily. I guess I’m doing this all wrong. You’re not the typical victim.

Survivor, Anna said. "You’re right, but you should know that there is no typical anything, especially victim or survivor!"

Why don’t we start over? Can we please start over? I guess I didn’t know what to expect, so I assumed things to be true.

Only if you stop trying to guess as to what I’m feeling or not feeling, and don’t tell me how I’m supposed to feel. I will feel what I want, when I want, and if I want!

I’m sorry. I apologize. I truly am sorry.

I’m sure it’s hard to look at me, especially when my face looks like a warped rubber Halloween mask. Believe me, it’s not. And I apologize for my hair.

Why?

It took me two hours to comb out my hair with this stupid small black flexible comb. I filled the garbage pail with it. Anna pointed to the trash bin, filled with mangled hair. I’ve been trying to use what hair I have left to hide the bald spots.

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t pay attention to your hair. Maybe I should have paid more attention to everything about you.

Don’t pity me, and don’t feel sorry for me, please.

I am sorry for you. But, I know what you mean. I don’t feel sorry for you, I am just sorry you went through all this. I guess I’ve done this all wrong.

Before we start, tell me one thing, Anna said.

What is it?

What expectations did you have when you walked in that door?

Oh, well, we are trained …

No, forget your training. You expected me to be what?

Crying, upset, blaming yourself, thinking about going back to him …, she paused. The majority of victims go back.

"I’m not going back," Anna crossed her arms, trying not to wince from the pain.

You’re not?

Why would I? He tried to kill me. My husband of 13 years tried to kill me! Her voice shook with anger. As for crying, I’m not a crier, and I’m not gonna cry because I’m pissed.

Sixteen, Talia went to put her hand on Anna’s but she stopped herself.

Anna. You can call me Anna.

All right, Anna, she whispered her name. "Let’s start with that. Why are you pissed?" She crossed her legs. The one thing Talia knew, not because of training, but because of knowing people is to use their words so they can connect, and not misunderstand.

Ted tried to kill me, and you want to know why I’m pissed? Well, it’s beyond anger, so yes, I’m definitely pissed. A man who was supposed to love me betrayed me. This is not love. This was hate, and I have no idea why last week he loved me, and yesterday, he–he didn’t.

Tell me about last week.

It was our wedding anniversary. Thirteen years, her voice saddened. And it was also another anniversary. The anniversary of our son’s death.

You have children?

I did, yes, she leaned back in the bed, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket as she tried to pull at the loose thread in the blanket. Adam. He was six when he died. He died four years ago.

Oh, I’m sorry. You want to talk about him?

What’s to talk about? My son died. He caught a cold in school, he was in kindergarten. By the time I took him to the doctor, the next day because of his fever wouldn’t go down and I couldn’t wake him up, he was in a coma. He died four days later. They never told us that he had a weak immune system and he died from a cold. A friggin’ cold. That’s that. Ted and I have been mourning for four years. Last week, though, something was different.

Different how?

We had tried to keep our marriage together, but losing a child, losing Adam, took its toll on us. When a person loses a spouse, they’re called a widow, or widower, but when a person loses a child, there is no name for that. Well, after he died, we fought, a lot, about everything. It was only yelling and arguing, nothing ever got physical. Ted quit his job, and I worked all the time. She sighed. The past month, everything got quiet. Eerily quiet. And then, last week something changed.

What happened last week?

Anna ran her hands over her face, It’s so numb, I don’t even feel like I have a face anymore, she whispered. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Chapter Two

Last Week

Anna unlocked the door to her ranch-style home and set her tote bag on the chair by the door. Ted, I’m home, she called, in a way hoping that he wouldn’t answer.

In the dining room, he called back. His tone is different. It was a normal tone, not snotty, not angry, but normal.

Anna thought it was also strange that he was in the dining room, since it was a room that was completely furnished but never used. She took off her jacket and hung it in the closet, then wearily walked down the hall toward the dining room. Ted? What’s this? she stared at the small table set for two, as golden candles were already lit and flickering.

He set the bottle of wine on the table and walked over to her and kissed her cheek. It’s our anniversary, he smiled, a smile that she almost forgot he could provide her.

You cooked? she smiled, hoping this was the start of something better than the past four years had provided both of them.

Yes, steak and potatoes and salad. I also bought that wine you love so much, he smiled. We’re celebrating, Anna. We have to celebrate. He was dressed in his usual polo shirt and jeans, but the jeans looked brand new. His dark hair was combed back, which was also unusual since he liked the messy look.

What do you need me to do?

Just put in the CD, and I’ll do the rest. I just have to grab the food, he