Trapped in the bathroom

TRAPPED IN THE BATHROOM
    I raced down the hall, trying not to run into anything and slow me down as I clutched my newly bruised eye. I could hear him chasing after me and I hurried into my sanctuary: the bathroom. I slammed the door shut and twisted the lock with seconds to spare; he banged on the door and I jumped, my heart feeling like it was going to jump out of my chest.
    "Open the door!" he bellowed, banging on the door again.
    I cried, shaking as he banged on the door again and again, yelling obscenities through the wood. There was a final bang, and then silence.
    I knew the silence was a trick; it had worked the first time--I had learned a lot in the past year. That night had started out like this, with my making a little mistake he blew up into gigantic proportions. He had chased me to the bathroom, my refuge, and after the house had fallen silent I'd crept to the door, had unlocked it and started to open it when he swung it open, hitting my head against the edge. I don't remember much after that, but I remember the bruises staining my skin and him holding me in his arms as he sobbed his forgiveness, his tears burning my damaged flesh like acid.
    I sat on the toilet and sobbed, flashbacks from my childhood flashing through my mind. I remember nights like this, numerous nights that blurred together until that fateful night with the gunshot ringing in my ears and the flashing police lights.
    I don't know how long I stayed sitting on the toilet seat, replaying one horrific even after another, but when my tears had dried I stood, suddenly with a purpose in mind. I opened the bathroom cabinet and twisted open the jar of face cream; I peeled off the razor blade I'd taped to the cover of the jar and thought, I'm not trapped here anymore.