For several years my abuser was in my life, because I saw no way out. I was financially dependent on him and I was also terrified of him, as he had tried to choke me to death the one time after I took a SHORT unannounced vacation from him.
Anyway, as time went on, and after about 16 tries, I finally escaped from him. I was able to hide from him for a year and a half, but then one day he ran up to me on the sidewalk while I was waiting for a bus and wrapped his arms around me and said, "Baby! Baby!" and I ducked out from his "hug" and said that I could no longer live with him and that I was no longer his "baby." Soon after that, the bus came and thankfully he did not get on it with me.
However, I did not feel safe and from that time on, I planned a more permanent escape. I finally was able to move 625 miles away from there, to another area of the country. I have made a new life for myself here. Life is good.
My childhood abuser, thankfully, is dead, of course. However, there were many years when I was alive and he was too. I remember when he finally was dying and was in the hospital. I called every week and asked if he had died yet. I even told the nurses that took my calls what he had done to me and our family. (He was a wife beater, a child beater and molester). They did not react to my information, just telling me basically about his medical state and that was all. This was before the HIPPA laws, or I bet that they could not have even done that.