Violence Archive

Thirty Seconds to Live

Posted November 7, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

While on my six day bus trip into the wild, wild west, I met Clara. She was a runner who had spent years under the fist of an abusive husband. A broken jaw and two missing teeth were the final straw and the catalyst that caused her to flee. 



I sat in silence as she recounted year after agonizing year of abuse. She told me of near death encounters with her husband. She suddenly stopped, cocked her head and asked, “What would you do if you knew you only had thirty seconds to live?”


I knew that should have been a pensive moment. I should have paused to reflect on my fifty six years that had come and gone. I should have waxed eloquent with wisdom my silver crown had given. 

But, without hesitation, I blurted out my response. “I’d be right here with you, walking this path with you, even if it were only for the last thirty seconds of my life.

Clara’s eyes welled with tears as she took my hand in hers. “You really mean that. I know you do.”

Can't Life Your Dream Because of Fear? Get my book on Amazon!

Can’t Life Your Dream Because of Fear? Get my book on Amazon!

Curious, I asked her why she’d asked. I also wondered what she would do. Clara told me how she’d been faced with that very half minute before she fled. Her husband held a gun to her temple and told her she had only thirty seconds to continue to be alive on this earth.

“What did you do?” 

She took a deep breath and let it out. “I kicked him where it counts, punched him in the nose and ran like the dickens! The way I figured it, if I was going to die anyway, I might as well go out fighting!”

I high-five’d her right there on the Greyhound bus! 

It took a lot of courage to do what she did. I learned a lot from her story:

  1. A finite amount of time to live brings things in to perspective and gives you a sense of urgency.
  2. If things are going to happen anyway, you might as well follow your gut.
  3. Being faced with a violent end produces courage you might not know you possessed.

I wonder, if you knew you only had thirty seconds to live, how would you spend those last precious moments of time? Would you kick and punch and not go down without a fight? Or would you keep on doing what you’re doing, knowing you’re making a difference? Perhaps you’d use those ticks of the clock to turn back the hands of time, giving you more of it.

For Clara, as she exited the bus in a western town, she knew she had more than thirty seconds. In fact, a whole new life was just beginning for her. 

Clara faced her fear and found her freedom when faced with thirty seconds to live. What about you? Share it here!






Six Days…

Posted November 6, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

I bet you’ve been wondering where I’ve been this last week. Well, I slept for forty-eight straight hours. Why? Because I was up and traveling across the country for six days without any sleep.

Me on a Mission

Me on a Mission

I left Florida, crossed two states and did something I had not done since 1971. I boarded a bus heading west. I had to go to Salt Lake City on very important business and I decided to meet women on the way. So I went Greyhound and left the driving to them. I was not prepared for what I encountered.

During my six days (that’s 144 continuous hours of consciousness), I met 128 women who were on the run from their significant other. One by one I sat next to them, or they sat next to me on a bus. They told their stories of abuse. The were literally running for their lives in the cheapest way they could find.

Wyoming. That White Stuff is Snow

Wyoming. That White Stuff is Snow

One women, Sabrina, had just been discharged from the hospital after a three month stay. Her husband had run her down with the family car, breaking both legs, several vertebrae and leaving her in a coma for weeks. The surgical wounds still had staples in them. She was in tremendous pain and riding a bus was the worst thing she could have done… except staying with her spouse.

She was such a trooper. My heart went out to her, particularly at 3am when the agony was so great, she called out for anyone to help her. I went back and prayed for God to ease her pain. Thankfully, He did.

I Discovered in Wyoming Why People Wear Coats!

I Discovered in Wyoming Why People Wear Coats!

I met Henrietta in St. Louis. She boarded the bus with two children in tow. I couldn’t help but hear them asking mommy why daddy couldn’t come. She had no answer. Not wanting to say anything negative about their father, she opted for a vague answer and quickly changed the subject. 

Two hours later, the bus made a meal stop at a local McDonald’s. Who knew they did that?! Fortunately, a convenience store was right next door. I ran over there and found a coloring book. I grabbed it and ran back to the bus and took out a pack of  colored highlighters from my backpack.

Mountains in Utah

Mountains in Utah


When Henrietta and kids returned to the bus, I gave them to her. She and I talked while the children colored in their book. 

During my six days aboard public transportation, I saw country I’d never seen before as we made our way through Wyoming and finally Utah. I also saw a part of society that is hurting in a way I’d never witnessed.

Sure, I’ve seen people running in airports, at rest stops along the interstate, at hotels and in restaurants. But never before had I been so close to hurting women who did not have the means to flee in style. They didn’t have money for meals, even the value menu under the golden arches. Their eyes mirrored hearts that were empty and without belonging. I ached for them.

Me After Five Days and 120 Women's Stories

Me After Five Days and 120 Women’s Stories


I prayed for them and thanked God that I saw this underworld of women who are more courageous than the brave souls who pushed west to settle the once wild land we rode though on a smelly bus.

If I ever am tempted to complain about sitting in a plush airport waiting for a late airplane that will take me from one end of the country to the other in a matter of hours, I’ll remember my six days on a Greyhound. I’ll remember Atlanta’s bus station that was locked down while all passengers were searched and guns, knives, blades and brass nuckles confiscated.

I’ll remember cries in the night as wounds tried to heal, and children who didn’t understand abuse. They only missed their daddy.

Six days…


13,300,560 Minutes Ago Today

Posted November 5, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

It was a cold November night in Northern Florida twenty-nine years ago today that my life changed forever. I was abducted from a parking lot by a total stranger and beaten, raped and humiliated. 

Northern Florida

Northern Florida

Today, though I still have scars, the pain no longer remains. Today, I reach out to other women who suffered through horrific attack, or to those who endure it on a daily basis.

348 months after that cold, dark night in an abandoned building in the middle of the woods, my spirit soars and my life has never been more full. 

During the 1,508 weeks that have come and gone since then,


  • I’ve traveled over 6,000 miles on the Road to Freedom Tour.
  • I have reached thousands with a message of hope. I’ve pointed them toward help and a way out of their circumstance. 
  • I’ve published 2 books and have been asked for the one I’m writing about the Tour.
  • I’ve served thousands of high risk college students to overcome insurmountable odds to live their dream.
  • I’ve preached the gospel both in my great nation and on foreign soil.
  • I’ve owned 3 businesses.
  • I’ve traveled to 38 states and met people on the back roads that most would never meet.
  • I’ve slept under the stars and seen the sunrise and moon set at the same time from a mountaintop in Appalachia.

In the last 10556 days since that fateful night, I’ve lived life to its fullest, grabbed for the gusto, and gotten all the goodie out of every one of those days. Because of that one day that changed my life forever, I vowed to live each day as if it was my last, because I know all to well it really could be.

At the Top of the World

At the Top of the World

During these last 221,676 hours, I went to the depths of emotional pain like I never knew existed. I wrestled the demon of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and won. I drew closer to God than I ever thought possible and soared to the heights of Heaven to touch the face of Abba Father.

Yes, I was attacked. But I assure you I didn’t spend any of the last 13,300, 560 minutes being a victim. I couldn’t change what happened that night. I did all I could to stop him. He was too strong and I paid the price. 

On the Road to Freedom in Tennessee

On the Road to Freedom in Tennessee

But, just as assuredly as the sun rose over the eastern horizon on November 6th, so did I. I rode on the wings of hope and the prayers of faithful saints.

Today I celebrate. I recently sat over bagels with my dear friend, Jane Young Hill. She worked tirelessly as my therapist after my assault. We basked in the glory of winning the battle over violent assault and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I’m writing about it in my current manuscript. I told her I remember each moment of my attack as if it was last night. But, I do not feel any of the pain.

LCSW Jane Young Hill and Me. What a Joyful Reunion

LCSW Jane Young Hill and Me. What a Joyful Reunion

You see, in these last 13,300,560 minutes I’ve been embracing healing. I’ve been walking away from that moment in time when a drug-crazed lunatic rocked my world. And, once I found my way to freedom, I’ve been busy showing others the way. 

It’s the Road to Freedom. 

The Road to Freedom

The Road to Freedom

Today’s my anniversary of sorts. I celebrate life. I’m grateful for that moment in time so long ago. It helps me remember the important things and treasure each breath I take. 

No matter what you are facing in your life, there is hope. There is life beyond survival and the journey down the Road to Freedom is worth the trip. 

Thank you for following and supporting the Road to Freedom Tour. If you want to take steps forward but are afraid, I urge you to seek help. Get my book: Facing Fear and Finding Freedom

Can't Life Your Dream Because of Fear? Get my book on Amazon!

Can’t Life Your Dream Because of Fear? Get my book on Amazon!

Put one foot in front of the other and one day you’ll be able to look back and say, “13,300,560 minutes ago today…”



“It Happened to Me…”

Posted September 17, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.


I just completed an awesome five days with My Book Therapy (MBT) at the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) Annual Conference in Indianapolis. It was an amazing whirlwind of a time. I’m the Member Care Coach at MBT and spend the entire conference each year at the MBT booth.


My dear friend, award winning author, Lisa Jordan and me.

My dear friend, award winning author, Lisa Jordan and me.

I have the privilege of meeting hundreds of writers at different places on their writing journeys. I encourage, celebrate and pray with writers. I help them find their way. It’s such a rewarding time, I hate to see it come to an end. 

This year was different in two regards. First, I had dozens of women approach me. They would wait until no one else was around and muster the courage to utter these words that I’ll never forget, “It happened to me.” One by one, they told their stories.  They have survived insurmountable odds and were trying to move on with their lives. We shared, cried, hugged, prayed.  I lost count but the last I can remember, over 40 women shared their stories with me. They are heroes, each and every one of them. 

I know that Road to Freedom Tour has only begun. I also believe it must be done on a much larger scale than I ever imagined. My plan was to fly back to Florida where I’m connected and plan my next steps. On Saturday, I was approached by an agent who wanted to know about my bicycle trip. When they heard the adventures of “The Bicycle Lady”, they asked me to send them a proposal for the book I’m writing. On Sunday I was approached by an executive editor for a major publishing company who asked for a proposal as well.

For those of you who are not in or around the publishing industry, please let me assure you this rarely happens. This was confirmation to me that God wants Road to Freedom to have a broader scope so that hurting women all over the country can face their fear and find the freedom to abundantly live the life they have only been existing through since they were assaulted or abused.

I left the hotel and headed to the airport to fly back to Florida. I was wearing an ACFW shirt that a woman in line at Starbucks recognized. She discovered that I was the Bicycle Lady and insisted that I accompany her to her gate to meet her friends. We stood around as I recounted story after story of God’s power to heal wounded women. 


My brand new friends at the airport

My brand new friends at the airport

We laughed and cried together. They prayed for me right there at the gate. I had to rush back to catch my own flight so I took off down the concourse at break neck speed. Suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I turned to find a female police officer stopping me. My first instinct was that I was speeding. Okay, I know there is no speed limit for pedestrians in the airport, but she caught me off guard. Then I wondered if it was illegal to pray in the airport in Indianapolis. 

Then the words came… you know, those four immortal words that I’ve heard over and over on the Road to Freedom. She said, “I overheard your stories back there. I just felt I needed to tell you, ‘it happened to me.'” 

I completely abandoned any attempts to catch my flight. We stepped over to the corner and I listened while she told me about enduring sexual abuse at the hands of a family member while growing up. As an adult she knew she had to become a cop to fight back for those who, like she’d once been, were unable to fight back.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she told me how she fights for others now. Officer “She has a heart” is a champion for all those who the Road to Freedom serves. She is a hero!

In the days, weeks and months to come, Road to Freedom will be expanding to bring this liberating message to a much larger number of women at a time. I’ll be working with partners to bring encouragement, teaching, speaking, books, and other media to the masses. RtF has garnered so much media attention and the momentum is high. 

We must get this message out to hurting women. Would you be willing to partner with me? Here’s how:

1) Help me get the word out about my blog. Invite others to follow it. Whether they are hurting or not (don’t assume they’re not hurting. These women suffer in silence), ask them to follow and to share my blog with others. They can sign up right on my website and have my blog delivered to their email address daily.

2) Consider purchasing my e-book, “Facing Fear and Finding Freedom” available on Amazon for $2.99. All the proceeds go to the advancement of the Road to Freedom Tour. Also, if you read it, I’d be honored if you’d give it a review on Amazon. That helps others who are deciding whether to buy it.

3) Pray about Road to Freedom. I’ll be hitting the road again before long (Although probably not on the bike… maybe in an RV?) to continue the message and helping others heal.

Facing Fear book cover CORRECTED rjh

Click on Picture to purchase

Now that ACFW is in the history books, the blogging adventures will resume on a daily basis again. 

Thank you all for your support, love, prayers and encouragement. As I reach out to others, I am your arms extended!


It’s Not About the Bike

Posted August 28, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.
Heading Out at Sunrise

Setting out at sunrise

Since I began this Road to Freedom Bicycle Tour across America, I’ve said that it’s not about the bike. It’s about getting into the lives and hearts of the women who I come in contact with day after day whose lives are changed.

They have been liberated, healed and have gained courage to face their fear and find the freedom they were meant to enjoy. I’ve met such incredible people on this trip. It’s been amazing and I’m so grateful to God that He chose me to ride my bicycle for women who don’t have a voice.

While the Road to Freedom will not end, it appears the bicycle portion is completing its course. I injured my shoulder on day four of the tour. It’s been up and down but I’ve been nursing it back to health. While pushing my bike last week through ten miles of soft gravel, I apparently completed tearing what was only a partial tear to the rotator cuff. I received a diagnosis of a full thickness tear.

My original  plan was to ride back to Evansville, Indiana Monday, stay for a couple of days and slowly meander northeast to arrive in

Farm Road in Illinois

Farm Road in Illinois

Indianapolis on September 11th for the American Christian Fiction Writer’s conference. That would give it a chance to calm down and begin the healing process. Five more days there would be just what I would need to complete the rest of the tour. 

I set out on Monday morning at sunrise heading back east, careful to avoid the soft gravel road. I’d covered about 55 miles of a 70 mile ride when I tore the medial collateral  ligament in my knee. I was on the side of the road for about an hour sitting and praying. Every time I stood up, I would get dizzy and nauseous, a clear indication it was more than just a tweak. I had a serious injury.

Thankfully, I was close enough to my destination that my two new friends, Clydean and Melody, were able to come pick me up. I rode safe and sound in the comfort of a vehicle for the remainder of my journey.

As word began to spread of my injuries, I have received an incredible outpouring of well wishes, concerns about how disappointed I must be not being able to continue my ride. Although I am so grateful for the outpouring of love and support,  this recent turn of events has done nothing to deter me from my mission. The Road to Freedom is alive and well, and soon to be well traveled.

Though I can’t get on the bike right now, it’s not about the bike. Every mile I’ve ridden has been filled with challenge, ministry, hardship, fulfillment, excitement, fatigue. God has always led me to minister to others. That’s who I am. That’s who He’s called me to be.

My friend Melody said it perfectly, “well, if you can’t go to them, we’ll just have to bring them to you!” We already have ministry scheduled in her home for tonight!


The Ride back east to Indiana and Kentucky

The Ride back east to Indiana and Kentucky

The Lord is showing me that the Road to Freedom began on the bike, and will continue as a foundation to help women who have been the victims of violent assault and sexual abuse. That will be the direction Road to Freedom takes. What began on an bike in the vast wilderness of country roads in America will reach more people than I ever thought possible.

The bike gave birth to something that the country has hooked on to and will be used for years to come to minister to women who have suffered in silence far too long.

I will remain in the Henderson, Kentucky area until September 11th writing, planning and preparing to take Road to Freedom to a greater level. 

I will continue to blog about the experiences, adventures and truth God reveals to me through this amazing journey. I need you more than ever to help me spread the word about Road to Freedom. Though it began on two wheels, it was never about the bike, but rather about the 1 in 3 women in our country who will be violently attacked or suffer sexual abuse in their lifetime.

I will also work on the book that is coming out of this amazing adventure. I now have the time to do it!

Through your help, encouragement and prayer support,  I’ve been able to reach thousands of women, some–like Kayledean–we’ve met and shared the celebration of

Oh, that hurts!

Oh, that hurts!

triumph. Some we’ve wept with as they poured out the stories, finally having someone who would listen and understand. Others we may never meet but they are being touched nonetheless.

We have momentum and it didn’t come from the bike. It came from you helping me get the word out. And the word continues to spread. We have to keep it going. I may be shipping Dakota home but the Road to Freedom will continue to be the path I take. Please continue to take the journey with me. I’d miss you terribly if you didn’t.

Women need us. We need to bind up the broken hearted and set the captives free.


Across the Table

Posted August 23, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

BibleYesterday morning I was invited to a Bible study in the home of a retired female pastor. I eagerly accepted the invitation and before I knew it, I found myself sitting around a long table with other women.

I was asked to share about the Road to Freedom Bicycle Tour and as I did, the lady directly across the table began to tear up. She went on to share a story of pain and ultimate forgiveness.

She’d had been treated inappropriately as a child by her half brother. As they grew into adulthood, they parted ways. Her brother repeated these acts and landed in prison with a twenty year sentence.

I was released from prison and recently this dear lady got word that he had died. She was at a loss as to what to do. She John Audobon Lake 2allowed God to heal her childhood wounds but she’d also build a mighty protective fortress around her emotions and didn’t want to open that gate again.

At God’s prompting, she finally met with her brother’s children and experienced a grand and glorious healing.

The Bible study continued for several moments. Suddenly the lady next to the one who’d shared began to cry and said she was having a very difficult time trying to forgive the drunk driver who struck and killed her son back in May. This mother’s heart bled for her son.

I opened my mouth and love mixed with grace flowed out. There is a difference between grief and forgiveness. A grieving mother must first grieve, then the forgiveness is possible. For a long while I poured out God’s love to her. It  is incomprehensible what this mother was facing. It’s unnatural for a mother to bury their child.

Southern IllinoisIn my finite mind, I planned on sitting in on a neighborhood Bible study while sipping Thursday morning coffee. But, as God would have it, women were there who needed ministry… to share their stories… to receive a word of encouragement from a stranger to their town, albeit one who blew into their community wearing spandex and helmet hair.

As I hugged them goodbye and headed to my temporary home, I was struck by the reality that we never know who’s sitting across the table. They may appear happy, healthy and whole but they could be suffering in silence.

I’ve faced that during this trip more often than I have words to express. Women–and some men–who put on a brave face but in private relive the same nightmare over and over again. 

I urge each of you to take note of the person sitting across the table from you. Whether you know them or not, you really don’t know what they may be experiencing… the pain they endure… the silent suffering that fills their day.

Take a moment to encourage them, to pray with them or to discover how you can help them. If we all do that, the world will be a better place.


It Doesn’t Take a Stage to Have a Platform

Posted August 8, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.

Tennessee State LineAfter a somewhat disappointing delayed departure by one day, Dakota and I took to the roads again yesterday. It felt really good to feel the wheels under my feet again. Though I had constant rolling hills, none were very steep and I was able to clip along at an average of 17mph. Not too bad since I’m carrying fifty pounds of gear.

It took less than an hour to make it to the first town: Selmer, TN. It took two more hours to get out of it. I pulled into the McDonalds just to buy a drink and to get some ice. That’s it. What happened next was astonishing.

I purchased my cup and was filling it when someone said, “Aren’t you the bicycle lady I read about?”  I turned around to find a white-Chief Latiga Campground, AL 4haired lady who was just giddy because she laid eyes on the “famous” bicycle rider from Florida.

She asked me to tell her granddaughter what I was doing. I suddenly noticed others were gathering around. I moved away from the drink machine and into a seating section. One-by-one customers gathered around to hear the story of PTSD and how one out of three women in America will be violently assaulted or sexually abused in their lifetime.

As I spoke, many had questions. Others knew of someone who’d been victimized. I spoke for about an hour until I thought there was nothing more to say. The crowd began to thin out as they continued on with their morning.

2013 Bike tour 003I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye and a little girl hesitantly inched toward me. She looked back to who I found out later was her foster mother for reassurance. When she got to me, she stopped, twisted around and around and looked at the floor. 

I introduced myself to her and asked her who she was. With the cutest drawl I’ve ever heard, she introduced herself as Hayyyyyeeeeeezulllll. That’s southern for Hazel. She was beautiful with a spark in her eye that would light a fire in any heart. 

Hazel leaned in and said in almost a whisper, “My daddy touched me in the wrong places. I don’t live with him anymore.” She pointed at the lady sitting teary eyed in the corner and said she was living with her. 

Hazel and I talked for quite some time. She was astonished to learn it had also happened to me when I was her age. I tried desperately to quell the anger growing inside me. Hazel needed calm. 

I told her she was a brave little girl to which she replied, “Yeah, I know. God made me strong.” She cocked her head up to me and said, “I wanted to hurt my daddy. Do you think God is mad at me?”

I put my arm around her and said, “Hazel, God is really mad at your daddy, too. He did a bad thing. God isn’t mad at you at all. In fact, He’s proud of you for being so brave.”

With that, Hazel, smiled and skipped off to her foster mom and exclaimed, “I talked to the bicycle lady!” 

As I rode off to the north, I could not stop thinking about seven year old Hazel. Perhaps one day she’ll grow up free from the fear, shame, and emotional scars that have been thrust upon her. 

Today, I ride for Hazel. Today, I ride for the fifty people who stopped at McDonalds to hear my story… and to tell theirs. Today, I ride for freedom.

Great to be back on the Road to Freedom Bicycle Tour, where miracles happen around every turn. 

Facing Fear Cover FINAL 6-9-13


Do you or someone you know feel fear? I encourage you to purchase my book: Facing Fear and Finding Freedom . It puts fear in its place and is available for only $2.99 on Amazon.

I so appreciate your prayers, support, emails, voicemails, text messages and comments you leave for me. They give me the desire to keep going. For you… for us… for all the Hazel’s.


Amanda’s Story

Posted August 2, 2013 By Reba J. Hoffman, Ph.D.
The Crossroads at Corinth, MS

The Crossroads at Corinth, MS

As my time in Corinth draws to a close, I really didn’t think I would have any more “divine” appointments. I could not have been more wrong.

But Cheryl and Denise (of the Literacy Coalition of Corinth) lead me through stacks of books, down winding hallways to a work area in the rear of the public library. It was there that I met Rita. Denise introduced me then stepped out of the way so I could tell Rita my story of why I’m riding alone cross country on a bicycle.

Tears formed in Rita’s eyes as she uttered the words I’ve heard so many times on this journey, “That happened to me.”

But Rita’s story was not about herself as much as it was about her daughter, Amanda. She’d been married to a man who treated her well. However, over time, the marriage did not work out. Amanda filed for divorce, after which her husband completely changed. Because she had earned a masters degree in clinical psychology, Amanda recognized signs that her husband was not emotional healthy.

He stalked her and otherwise abused her. She maintained copious notes and took them to a local judge requesting to obtain a



restraining order. The judge set a second hearing for a month later to give the husband the opportunity to “defend himself.” That day would never come.

The estranged husband hid and waited for his ex-wife to return home and, while Rita watched, he pulled out a gun and shot Amanda, killing her. He then turned the gun on himself and fired the shot that took his own life.

Through tears, Rita bravely recounted the story of the one moment in time that changed her life forever. I stood transfixed as she explained that at the moment her daughter died, she had not been afraid. She was at peace. 

I asked Rita how she dealt with such a tragedy. She said, “I just put one foot in front of the other.”

Mistakes had been made in handling the concerns that Amanda presented when she asked for help. It resulted in a tragic loss of the life of that beautiful woman. But even in her death, her life work continues. The attorney general for the state of Mississippi came to Corinth and used her notes to train professionals in early detection and intervention techniques.

2013 Bike Tour 020Through my own tears, I told Rita that even after her death, Amanda continues to do the work she would have done if she were still living. While that offers no consolation to a grieving mother, it is certainly making a huge difference for other women in the state of Mississippi.

As I said goodbye to Rita, I hugged hugged courageous woman who puts out flyers to help women who are or could potentially be the victim of domestic violence. She wiped away the tears and wished me well in my journey… a journey that has caused my life and tears to intertwined with such a brave woman as Rita as she carries the torch of her daughter who lost her battle but, through her death will win the war.

I will never forget the tears of this mother. Nor will I forget the impact she and her daughter have made on the lives of others. Only God will know how many women will be safe as a result her her giving her life.

If you or someone you know is the victim of domestic or other type of violence, please see help by calling the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1−800−799−SAFE(7233)